The fresh year flew on wings. The snowdrops—fair maids of February—faded in the school garden, and their pale, ethereal, green-tipped blossoms were replaced by golden daffodils that seemed to reflect the stronger sunshine. Mezereon and other fragrant¹ shrubs² put out sweet-scented flowers, and the great white arum lilies were throwing up their sheaths. Violets and early primroses³ might be searched for under sheltered hedgerows, and the Japanese cherry-trees were bursting into bud. Mother Nature seemed to be shaking her garments, and getting ready for the great carnival⁴ of Spring.  
With the longer days, Lorraine was often up at Windy Howe. It was the sort of household where you could arrive at any time without presenting an apology for your intrusion.
 
"You must take us just as you find us," said Claudia. "You know I'm glad to see you, Lorraine, but I shan't treat you as a visitor, and have you shown into the drawing-room. You don't mind?"
 
Claudia was sitting in the nursery, rocking the [169]latest addition to the Castleton family, a tiny white bundle, with golden down on its pink head. She nursed it dutifully, patting its back with the experience gained with seven other younger brothers and sisters.
 
"Yes, it's rather sweet," she agreed, in answer to a comment from Lorraine. "I'd like them all right if they didn't cry so much; it's such a nuisance when they're perpetually squalling. The fact is I'm fed up with children. I never seem able to get away from them here. I've the greatest difficulty in doing my home lessons. Violet's always asking me to take the baby or Perugia, and Lilith and Constable⁶ are generally tearing about somewhere, to say nothing of Beata and Romola and Madox. Lorraine, I've quite made up my mind. I'm seventeen now, and I'm leaving school this summer. I'm not going to stay at home and just help with the children! It isn't good enough!"
 
"What would you like to do?" asked Lorraine, watching with sympathy while her friend made another effort to soothe⁷ the obstreperous⁸ new little brother to sleep.
 
"I don't know!" said Claudia forlornly. "I don't seem good for anything except to do odd jobs. Perhaps I'll go on the land. It would be a change to make hay and hoe turnips⁹. I should be away from Violet, anyhow. We've been squabbling again dreadfully of late. I can't stand it much longer. If Morland's called up, I'm going off too. I don't care where!"
 
She spoke¹⁰ resentfully, almost desperately¹¹; Lorraine [170]had not seen her in such a mood before. She had sometimes guessed that her friend was not altogether happy at home, though until to-day she had never received such a big slice of Claudia's confidence.
 
"Couldn't you go to college—or to study something?" she suggested vaguely¹².
 
The baby was crying so lustily that conversation was difficult. Claudia's remarks were punctuated¹³ by the regular tap-tap of the rockers on her chair.
 
"I've asked Father, but it's no use; he won't send me. He says it's Beata's and Romola's turn now, and they must go to school. Life's horrid—I just hate it all!"
 
The baby, lifting up a despairing wail¹⁴, also protested against the evils of existence.
 
"Poor little man! He doesn't like life either!" soothed¹⁵ Claudia. "There! There! Are his toes cold? Sissie'll warm them for him. It's no use; I shall have to take him to Violet, and she's trying to write letters!"
 
This little peep behind the scenes at Windy Howe made Lorraine feel worried about Claudia. The next time she went to the studio by the harbour, she talked the matter over. Margaret Lindsay knew the Castleton family so well that she might be counted upon for advice.
 
"Claudia's simply fed up!" explained Lorraine. "It's partly the children, but principally Violet. I don't think I should like to live with Violet myself."
 
"Perhaps not, yet she has her good points. [171]On the whole I think she's very decent to all those step-children. With her own little tribe as well, it must be difficult to manage the household. But I sympathize with Claudia. When she leaves school I'm sure it will be far the best plan for her to go away from home for a while."
 
"But her father won't let her!"
 
"Suppose she could win a scholarship? I fancy that would smooth the way."
 
"Oh, do you think she could?"
 
"Suppose you ask Miss Kingsley if she can suggest any career for Claudia? She's sure to be interested in her pupils' plans for the future. I certainly think it's a shame for the girl to be kept at home acting¹⁶ nursemaid to the younger ones. I'd willingly tackle Mr. Castleton some day and have a little talk with him about Claudia, if there's any plan to propose. I knew her own mother, so that gives me a pull. I'd speak to Violet, too. I dare say she'd be quite nice about it."
 
"Oh, Carina, I wish you would! I think Claudia has a wretched time. Do you know, the children got hold of the album I gave her for her birthday, and they scribbled¹⁷ all over it? And Violet didn't even scold them. Wasn't it trying? She lets them scramble¹⁸ about everywhere and do what they like. Claudia's so worried, she says her hair's beginning to fall out."
 
"I didn't know her hair was falling out. She'd better cut it short, in that case. She mustn't on any account let that lovely hair be neglected."
 
[172]Miss Kingsley, on being appealed to, was deeply interested. She talked things over with Miss Janet, and they came at once to a conclusion. There was nothing for it but a good kindergarten training. There were several open scholarships for a kindergarten college whose principal was an intimate friend of theirs. They would write about it at once, and Claudia must go in for the examination. They would make a point of coaching her specially¹⁹. In their minds the whole matter was already decided²⁰. It would be a splendid chance for the girl, so they said. That wise old Greek slave Æsop, who knew human nature so well that his fables²¹ are as true to life now as they were two thousand years ago, tells the story of a king who wished to fortify²² his castle. He asked advice, and the mason recommended bricks, the carpenter wood, and the tanner leather. Each thought his own trade supreme²³. The Misses Kingsley were perfectly²⁴ sure that Claudia, who was experienced with children, would succeed admirably in kindergarten work. They even saw visions of her being established some day at The Gables in the capacity of a mistress.
 
Claudia, on being introduced to her future prospects²⁵, gasped²⁶ a little. She acquiesced²⁷, but did not look quite as grateful as her friends had anticipated.
 
"I'd get away from home, at any rate! And that would be something!" was all she would say to Lorraine.
 
"It would be a career!" said Lorraine, fresh from a brainy, bracing²⁸ talk with Miss Janet. "Once [173]you've got your training, you'll be independent and able to earn your own living."
 
"Um—yes——" Claudia spoke without enthusiasm. "I wonder what the college would be like? Jolly hard work, I expect!"
 
"Miss Janet says it's adorable!"
 
"Oh! There are several scholarships. I wish you'd go in for one and come too; then we should be together."
 
It was Lorraine's turn to look blank. It is one thing to recommend a vocation²⁹ to a friend, and quite another to take it up yourself. Viewed from her own standpoint, the joys of a kindergarten training did not seem so attractive. She began to wonder whether Miss Janet had overstated them and the delights of independence.
 
"I—I don't know yet whether I want to leave home, and if I do, I'm going to study art!" she stammered³⁰ lamely³¹.
 
"I wish I could study music, but there's not the faintest little atom of a chance of doing that," returned Claudia bitterly.
 
Nevertheless, at Miss Kingsley's insistence³², she set to work diligently³³ to read up for the open scholarship examination. Miss Janet kindly³⁴ coached her, and gave up many hours of leisure on her behalf. Claudia was quite clever at lessons when she chose to apply herself. The progress she made under this private tuition delighted Miss Janet. Miss Kingsley wrote fully⁵ to her friend the principal of the college, and received a most encouraging reply.
 
[174]"The girl you mention seems just the kind of student we wish to procure³⁵ at present," wrote Miss Halden. "I am allowed a certain liberty of selection, and, so long as a candidate's marks do not fall below a given standard, I may make my own choice. I am not necessarily obliged to award the scholarships to those who send in the best papers, but to those who, after a personal interv............