the door of the examination-room, and dropped their cards. In picking
them up, they must have effected an exchange. She remembered that she
had been too agitated to notice her number until after the accident had
happened. She now related the circumstance as best she could. Miss
Bishop listened aghast.

"What number did you say you took in the examination-room? Ten? That is
entered in my book as Marjorie Kaye. I have the rest of the candidates'
papers in this bundle. Let me see--yes, here is No. 10. Is this your
handwriting? Then I'm afraid there has been a terrible blunder, and the
scholarship has been awarded to the wrong girl."

The Principal's consternation was equalled by Winona's. To the latter
the ground seemed slipping from under her feet. She tried to speak, but
failed. A great lump rose in her throat. For a moment the room whirled
round.

"This set of papers, No. 10, was marked so low as to be out of the
running," continued Miss Bishop. "It is a most unfortunate mistake, and
places the school in an extremely awkward position. I must consult with
the Governors at once. Pending their decision, it will be better not to
mention the matter to anybody. You may go now."

Winona managed somehow to get herself out of the study, to put on her
hat and coat, and to walk home to Abbey Close. Her aunt was still
absent, for which she was intensely thankful, and ignoring the tea that
was waiting on the dining-room table, she rushed upstairs to her
bedroom. Her one imperative need was to be alone. She must face the
situation squarely. Her world had suddenly turned topsy-turvy; instead
of being the winner of the County Scholarship, she was among the