They just managed to get into Hall before the head took her place in the centre of the platform and started to read over the form order. During the applause and general excitement, Peter realized that she had not yet opened the other letter. She had pushed them both into the front of her tunic and she felt now for their reassuring crackle. They seemed to have slipped in her haste, and she was fumbling in a panicky way for them when Margaret nudged her violently and hissed... "It's you, you silly ass... Peter! She's calling you... Go up and get it!"

Peter started guiltily. Everyone was looking at her and one or two girls were clapping.

The head's voice seemed to come from a great distance as she repeated:

"Upper School Essay Prize... Petronella Sterling."

Not until she was back in her seat again did she realize that her prize was that most precious of all books - Bevis, by Richard Jeffries. She had not thought about the essay for weeks, and only now did she remember that one of the subjects had been "Winter on the Hills," and that she had written many pages without difficulty. For a little she forgot her troubles in justifiable pride as Margaret and others near her reached curiously for the book.

At last there were cheers for the staff, cheers for the head, and cheers for the "leavers", and the Easter term was over, but it was not until after lunch that she was able to find time to read her other letter.

The envelope contained two documents. The first was folded several times until it was a small square upon which was inscribed a pine cone, the same sign as appeared on the back of the envelope.

The message inside was terse. It was headed "LONE PINE CLUB" and then read "Take notice. First meeting of the Club at Lone Pine Camp at two o'clock on Friday. All Members must be present. Come separately. Tell nobody. Urgent. Confidential. Destroy this.

"Signed,

"David Morton (Captain)."

Peter sighed. This was just what she had hoped would happen, and now she would be the only absent member.

The other note was written on a page from David's note-book.

"Dear Peter," she read.