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 C# PROGRAMMING:
FROM PROBLEM ANALYSIS TO PROGRAM DESIGN

FIFTH EDITION

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 C# PROGRAMMING:
FROM PROBLEM ANALYSIS TO PROGRAM DESIGN

FIFTH EDITION

BARBARA DOYLE

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 C# Programming: From Problem Analysis to © 2016, 2014 Cengage Learning
Program Design, Fifth Edition WCN: 02-200-203
Barbara Doyle
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 BRIEF CONTENTS

© zeljkodan/Shutterstock.com

PREFACE xxiii

1. Introduction to Computing and Application Development 1

2. Data Types and Expressions 71

3. Methods and Behaviors 137

4. Creating Your Own Classes 197

5. Making Decisions 257

6. Repeating Instructions 325

7. Arrays 399

8. Advanced Collections 459

9. Introduction to Windows Programming 513

10. Programming Based on Events 593

11. Advanced Object-Oriented Programming Features 699

12. Debugging and Handling Exceptions 785

13. Working with Files 849

14. Working with Databases 907

15. Web-Based Applications 993

APPENDIX A Visual Studio Configuration 1089

APPENDIX B Code Editor Tools 1107

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 vi | C# Programming: From Problem Analysis to Program Design, Fifth Edition

APPENDIX C Character Sets 1123

APPENDIX D Operator Precedence 1125

APPENDIX E C# Keywords 1127

GLOSSARY 1129

INDEX 1143

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 TABLE OF CONTENTS

© zeljkodan/Shutterstock.com

Preface xxiii

INTRODUCTION TO COMPUTING
1 AND APPLICATION DEVELOPMENT 1
History of Computers 2
System and Application Software 4
System Software 5
Application Software 7
Software Development Process 7
Steps in the Program Development Process 8
Programming Methodologies 15
Structured Procedural Programming 15
Object-Oriented Programming 18
Evolution of C# and .NET 21
Programming Languages 21
.NET 23
Why C#? 25
Types of Applications Developed with C# 26
Web Applications 27
Windows Applications 28
Console Applications 28
Exploring the First C# Program 29
Elements of a C# Program 30
Comments 30
Inline Comments 31
Multiline Comments 31

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 viii | C# Programming: From Problem Analysis to Program Design, Fifth Edition

XML Documentation Comments 32

Using Directive 32
Namespace 35
Class Definition 36
Main( ) Method 36
Method Body Statements 38
Compiling, Building, and Running an Application 42
Typing Your Program Statements 42
Compilation and Execution Process 42
Compiling the Source Code Using Visual Studio IDE 43
Debugging an Application 50
Syntax Errors 50
Run-time Errors 51
Creating an Application 52
Coding Standards 57
Pseudocode 57
Resources 58
Quick Review 59
Exercises 61
Programming Exercises 66

DATA TYPES AND EXPRESSIONS 71

2 Data Representation 72
Bits 72
Bytes 72
Binary Numbering System 72
Character Sets 75
Kilobyte, Megabyte, Gigabyte, Terabyte, Petabyte. . . 76
Memory Locations for Data 76
Identifiers 77
Variables 81
Literal Values 81

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 Table of Contents | ix

Types, Classes, and Objects 82

Types 82
Classes 83
Objects 84
Predefined Data Types 85
Value Types 86
Integral Data Types 87
Floating-Point Types 90
Decimal Types 91
Boolean Variables 92
Declaring Strings 93
Making Data Constant 94
Assignment Statements 94
Basic Arithmetic Operations 98
Increment and Decrement Operations 100
Compound Operations 104
Order of Operations 106
Mixed Expressions 108
Casts 109
Formatting Output 110
Width Specifier 115
Coding Standards 125
Naming Conventions 125
Spacing Conventions 126
Declaration Conventions 127
Resources 127
Quick Review 127
Exercises 128
Programming Exercises 134

METHODS AND BEHAVIORS 137

3 Anatomy of a Method 138
Modifiers 140
Static Modifier 141
Return Type 142

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 x | C# Programming: From Problem Analysis to Program Design, Fifth Edition

Method Name 144

Parameters 144
Method Body 145
Calling Class Methods 146
Predefined Methods 148
Write( ) Method 149
WriteLine( ) Method 150
Read( ) Method 151
ReadLine( ) Method 153
ReadKey( ) Method 154
Parse( ) Method 154
Methods in the Math Class 157
Writing Your Own Class Methods 163
Void Methods 163
Value-Returning Method 165
Types of Parameters 170
Named and Optional Parameters 175
Default Values with Optional Parameters 176
Named Parameters 177
Coding Standards 186
Naming Conventions 186
Spacing Conventions 186
Declaration Conventions 186
Commenting Conventions 187
Resources 187
Quick Review 187
Exercises 188
Programming Exercises 195

CREATING YOUR OWN CLASSES 197

4 The Object Concept 198
Private Member Data 200
Constructor 204

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 Table of Contents | xi

Writing Your Own Instance Methods 207

Accessor 208
Mutators 208
Other Instance Methods 209
Property 210
Auto Implemented Properties 212
ToString( ) Method 213
Calling Instance Methods 215
Calling the Constructor 215
Calling Accessor and Mutator Methods 217
Calling Other Instance Methods 218
Testing Your New Class 219
Coding Standards 244
Naming Conventions 244
Classes 244
Properties 244
Methods 245
Constructor Guidelines 245
Spacing Conventions 245
Resources 245
Quick Review 246
Exercises 247
Programming Exercises 253

MAKING DECISIONS 257

5 Boolean Expressions 258
Boolean Results 258
Conditional Expressions 259
Equality, Relational, and Logical Tests 260
Short-Circuit Evaluation 268
Boolean Data Type 270
if. . .else Selection Statements 271
One-Way if Statement 271

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 xii | C# Programming: From Problem Analysis to Program Design, Fifth Edition

Two-Way if Statement 276

TryParse( ) Method 278
Nested if. . .else Statement 283
Switch Selection Statements 289
Ternary Conditional Operator ? : 294
Order of Operations 295
Coding Standards 309
Guidelines for Placement of Curly Braces 309
Guidelines for Placement of else with Nested if Statements 310
Guidelines for Use of White Space with a Switch Statement 310
Spacing Conventions 311
Advanced Selection Statement Suggestions 311
Resources 311
Quick Review 312
Exercises 314
Programming Exercises 322

REPEATING INSTRUCTIONS 325

6 Why Use a Loop? 326
Using the While Statement 326
Counter-Controlled Loop 328
Sentinel-Controlled Loop 334
State-Controlled Loops 345
Using the for Statement Loop 348
Using the Foreach Statement 356
Using the Do. . .while Structure 357
Nested Loops 360
Recursive Calls 365
Unconditional Transfer of Control 368
Continue Statement 369
Deciding Which Loop to Use 370
Coding Standards 384
Guidelines for Placement of Curly Braces 385
Spacing Conventions 385
Advanced Loop Statement Suggestions 385

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 Table of Contents | xiii

Resources 386
Quick Review 386
Exercises 388
Programming Exercises 394

ARRAYS 399
7 Array Basics 400
Array Declaration 401
Array Initializers 404
Array Access 406
Sentinel-Controlled Access 411
Using Foreach with Arrays 412
Array Class 413
Arrays as Method Parameters 419
Pass by Reference 420
Array Assignment 423
Params Parameters 425
Arrays in Classes 426
Array of User-Defined Objects 428
Arrays as Return Types 429
Coding Standards 447
Guidelines for Naming Arrays 447
Advanced Array Suggestions 447
Resources 447
Quick Review 447
Exercises 448
Programming Exercises 455

ADVANCED COLLECTIONS 459

8 Two-Dimensional Arrays 460
Rectangular Array 460
Jagged Array 470
Multidimensional Arrays 470
ArrayList Class 475
String Class 479

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Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
 “I think Dorothy is right,” chimed in Hazel crisply. “Miss Lamb
made a principle out of her duty, real or supposed, to her uncle: she
gave up her chance of married happiness because her sense of what
was right would have been outraged if she had not.”
“Then she was a martyr!” exclaimed Jessie Wayne. “I shall see
her as a picture in my mind next time we sing ‘The martyr first
whose eagle eye.’ ”
“I dare say you will, goosey”—Dora Selwyn leaned forward past
Dorothy to speak to Jessie, who sat at the end of the table
—“meanwhile, you will please get on your feet, for the Head is
rising.”
Jessie scrambled up in a great hurry, punting into Daisy Goatby,
who sat on the other side of her. Daisy, heavy in all her movements,
lurched against a plate standing too near the edge of the table, and
brought it to the ground with a crash. But the crash was not heard,
for Hazel, who saw it falling, and the gentlemen rising to leave the
room at the same moment, swung up her hand for a rousing cheer,
and in the burst of acclamation the noise of smashing was entirely
lost.
“What a morning it has been!” murmured Dorothy, as she strolled
down to the tennis court with Margaret for a little practice at the
nets before the serious work of the tournament should begin.
“Yes.” Margaret spoke emphatically. She paused, and then said
rather shyly, “I should not have been very happy about it all, though,
if it had not been for the talk I had with you last night. Oh! I was
worried about that rumour of your depending on helps that are not
right for your work. I think I should have fainted, when you made
your affirmation, if I had known that there was anything not right
about it.”
“I do not expect you would have swooned, however badly you
might have felt.” Dorothy’s tone was rather grim as she spoke, for
she was thinking of Rhoda. “It is astonishing what we can bear
when hard things really come upon us.”
 “Perhaps so. Anyhow, I am very glad it was all right,” Margaret
sighed happily, and slid her arm in Dorothy’s. “I even had a big
struggle with myself when Rhoda Fleming stood up to affirm, and I
forgave her again from the bottom of my heart for every snub she
has ever handed out to me, for it seemed as if it would make her
record sweeter if I did that.”
“I wish I were as good as you.” Dorothy’s tone was a little
conscience stricken. There had been no desire in her heart to have
Rhoda clean enough to affirm; she had been merely conscious of a
great amazement at the girl’s audacity and callousness.
“Oh, rot, I am not good!” jerked out Margaret brusquely; and
then, Sixth Form girl though she was, she challenged Dorothy to
race to the nets.
It was a neck-and-neck struggle, and the victor was nearly
squashed at the goal by the vanquished falling on to her, and they
helped each other up, laughing at the figures they must have cut,
and the loss of hard-won dignity involved.
It was Dorothy who won, but that was only because she had a
longer stride. She knew this right well, and Margaret knew it too.
 CHAPTER VIII
THE TORN BOOK
The studies at the Compton Girls’ School were at the top of the
house, and consisted of three small rooms set apart for the use of
the Sixth, and one fair-sized chamber that was used as prep room by
the Upper Fifth. The private sitting-room of the Form-mistresses was
also on this floor, the rooms all opening on to one long passage,
which had a staircase at either end.
There were twelve girls in the Sixth, which gave four to a study.
Hazel and Margaret had with them Dorothy, and also Jessie Wayne,
who was a very quiet and studious girl, keeping to her own corner,
and having very little to do with the others. The head girl, Dora
Selwyn, had the middle study with three others, and the remaining
four, of whom Rhoda Fleming was one, had the third room, which
was next to the prep room of the Upper Fifth.
All the rooms on this floor were fitted with gas fires, and were
very comfortable. To Dorothy there was a wonderfully homey feeling
in coming up to this quiet retreat after the stress and strain of Form
work. She shared the centre table with Hazel, while Margaret had a
corner opposite to the one where Jessie worked.
One Friday evening at the end of October they were all in the
study, and, for a wonder, they were all talking. The week’s marks
had been posted on the board in the lecture hall an hour before, and
they had read the result as they came out from prayers.
It was Dorothy’s class position which had led to the talking; for
the first time since she had come to the school she was fourth from
the top. Dora Selwyn, Hazel, and Margaret were above her, and
Rhoda Fleming was fifth.
“Rhoda has been fourth so far this term,” said Jessie Wayne.
“She will not take it kindly that you have climbed above her, Dorothy.
How did you manage to do it?”
“I can’t think how I got above her,” answered Dorothy, who was
flushed and happy, strangely disinclined for work, too, and disposed
to lean back in her chair and discuss her victory. “Rhoda is a long
way ahead of me in most things, and she is so wonderfully good at
maths, too, while I am a duffer at figures in any shape or form.”
“You are pulling up though. I noticed you had fifty more marks
for maths than you had last week,” said Hazel, who had been deep
in a new book on chemistry, which she was annotating for next
week’s class paper.
“Yes, I know I am fifty up.” Dorothy laughed happily. “To tell the
truth, I have been swotting to that end. Indeed, I have let other
things slide a bit in order to get level with the rest of you at maths. I
have to work harder at that than anything.”
“Well, you jumped in Latin too; you were before me there,” said
Margaret. “I should not be surprised if you have me down next week
or the week after. You will have your work cut out to do it, though,
for I mean to keep in front of you as long as I can.”
“I can’t see myself getting in front of you,” said Dorothy. “You
seem to know all there is to be known about most things.”
“In short, she is the beginning and end of wisdom,” laughed
Hazel. “But we must get to work, or by this time next week we shall
find ourselves at the bottom of the Form.”
“What a row there is in the next study,” said Dorothy. “Don’t you
wonder that Dora puts up with such a riot, and she the head girl?”
“The noise is not in the next study,” said Jessie, who had opened
the door and gone out into the passage to see where the noise
came from. “It is Rhoda and her lot who are carrying on. They do it
most nights, only they do not usually make as much noise as this. I
suppose they are taking advantage of the mistresses having gone to
Ilkestone for that lecture on Anthropology; Dora has gone too, so
there is no one up here to keep them in order to-night.”
 “Well, shut the door, kid, and drag the curtain across it to deaden
the noise. We have to get our work done somehow.” There was a
sound of irritation in Hazel’s voice; she had badly wanted to go to
the lecture herself, but she knew that she dared not take the time. If
she had been free like Dora she would have gone, and not troubled
about the fear of dropping in her Form; but in view of her position
as an aspirant for the Mutton Bone, she dared not run the risk.
There was silence in the study for the next hour. Sometimes a
girl would get up to reach a book, or would rustle papers, or scrape
her chair on the floor; but there was no talking, until presently Jessie
pushed her chair back, and rising to her feet, declared that she was
going to bed, simply because she could not keep awake any longer.
“I am coming too,” said Hazel. “I am doing no good at all, just
because I keep dropping asleep; I suppose it is because it has been
so windy to-day. Are you others coming now?”
Margaret said that she would go—and indeed she was so pale
and heavy-eyed that she did not look fit to stay up any longer; but
Dorothy said that she wanted to finish the Latin she was doing for
next day, and would stay until she had done it.
When the others had gone she rose and turned out the gas fire,
fearful lest she might forget it when she went to bed, and there was
a considerable penalty waiting for the girl who left a gas fire burning
when she left the room.
The upper floor had grown strangely still. The Upper Fifth had
gone downstairs to bed some time ago. There were no mistresses in
their private room, which to-night was not even lighted. The noise in
the third study had died away, and there was a deep hush over the
place.
Dorothy worked on steadily for a time, then suddenly she felt
herself growing nervous; there was a sensation upon her that some
one was coming, was creeping along the passage, and pausing
outside the door.
 She stopped work, she held herself rigid, and stared fixedly at
the door. The handle moved gently—some one was coming in. The
horror of this creeping, silent thing was on her; she wanted to
scream, but she had no power—she could only pant.
The door creaked open for perhaps half an inch. Dorothy sprang
up, and in her haste knocked over a pile of books, which fell with a
clattering bang on the floor. For a moment she paused, appalled by
the noise she had made in that quiet place; and then, wrenching
open the door, she faced the passage, which stretched, lighted and
empty, to her gaze.
With a jerk she clicked off the electric light of the study, and with
a series of bounds reached the top of the stairs, fleeing down and
along the corridor to the dormitory. All the girls were in bed except
Hazel, who looked out from her cubicle to know what was wrong.
“Nerves, I expect. Yah, I turned into a horrible coward, and when
the door creaked gently open I just got up and fled,” said Dorothy,
who was hanging on to the side of her cubicle, looking thoroughly
scared and done up from her experience upstairs.
“I guess you have been doing too much; you would have been
wiser to have come down when we did,” said Hazel calmly; and
then, as her own toilet was all but complete, she came and helped
Dorothy to get to bed.
It was good to be helped. Dorothy was shaking in every limb,
and she was feeling so thoroughly demoralized that it was all she
could do to keep from bursting into noisy crying. She thanked Hazel
with lips that trembled, and creeping into her bed, hid her head
beneath the clothes because her teeth chattered so badly.
Sleep came to her after a time, for she was healthily tired with
the long day of work and play. But with sleep came dreams, and
these were for the most part weird and frightening. Some evil was
always coming upon her from behind, and yet she could never get
her head round to see what it was that was menacing her. Oh, it was
fearful! She struggled to wake, but was not able; and presently she
slid into deeper slumber, getting more restful as the hours went by.
Then the old trouble broke out again: something was certainly
coming upon her, the curtains of her cubicle were shaking, her bed
was shaking, and next minute she herself would be shaken out of
bed. Making a great effort she opened her eyes, and saw Margaret
standing over her.
“What is the matter?” gasped Dorothy, wondering why her head
was feeling so queer and her mouth so parched and dry.
“That is what I have come to ask you,” said Margaret with a
laugh. “You have nearly waked us all up by crying out and groaning
in a really tragic fashion. Are you feeling ill?”
“Why, no, I am all right,” said Dorothy, who began to feel herself
all over to see if she was really awake and undamaged. “I have been
having ghastly dreams, and I thought something was coming after
me, only I was not able to get awake to see what it was.”
“Ah! a fit of nightmare, I suppose.” Margaret’s tone was
sympathetic, but she yawned with sleepiness, and shivered from the
cold. “I found you lying across the bed with your head hanging
down, as if you were going to pitch out on to the floor, so I guess
you were feeling bad.”
“What is the time?” Dorothy had struggled to a sitting posture,
and was wondering if she dared ask Margaret to creep into bed with
her, for there was a sense of panic on her still, and she feared—
actually feared—to be left alone.
“Oh, the wee sma’ hours are getting bigger. It is just five o’clock
—plenty of time for a good sleep yet before the rising bell. Lie down,
and I will tuck you in snugly, then you will feel better.”
Dorothy sank back on her pillow, submitting to be vigorously
tucked in by Margaret. She was suddenly ashamed of being afraid to
stay alone. Now that she was wider awake the creeping horror was
further behind her, while the fact that it was already five o’clock
seemed to bring the daylight so much nearer.
 She was soon asleep again, and she did not wake until roused by
the bell. So heavy had been her sleep that her movements were
slower than usual, and she was the last girl to leave the dormitory.
To her immense surprise both Hazel and Margaret gave her the
cold shoulder at breakfast. They only spoke to her when she spoke
to them. They both sat with gloom on their faces, as if the fog in
which the outside world was wrapped that morning had somehow
got into them.
Dorothy was at first disposed to be resentful. She supposed their
grumpiness must be the result of her having disturbed the dormitory
with her nightmare. It seemed a trifle rotten that they should treat
her in such a fashion for what she could not help. She relapsed into
silence herself for the remainder of breakfast, concentrating her
thoughts and energies on the day’s work, and trying to get all the
satisfaction she could out of the fact that she had pulled up one
again this week in her school position.
“Dorothy, the Head wishes to see you in her study as soon as
breakfast is over.” There was a constraint in Miss Groome’s voice
which Dorothy was quick to feel, and she looked from her to the
averted faces of Hazel and Margaret, wondering what could be the
matter with them all.
“Yes, Miss Groome, I will go,” she said cheerfully; and she held
her head up, feeling all the comfort of a quiet conscience, although
privately she told herself that they were all being very horrid to her,
seeing that she was so absolutely unconscious of having given
offence in any way.
The Head’s study was a small room on the first floor, having a
window which gave a delightful view over the Sowerbrook valley,
with a distant glimpse of the blue waters of the English Channel.
There was no view to be had this morning, however—nothing but a
grey wall of fog, dense and smothering.
Miss Arden was sitting at her writing table, and lying before her
was a torn book—this was very shabby, as if from much use. There
was something so sinister about the disreputable volume lying there
that Dorothy felt her eyes turn to it, as if drawn by a magnet.
“Good morning, Dorothy; come and sit down.” The tone of the
Head was so kind that all at once Dorothy sensed disaster, and the
colour rushed in a flood over her face and right up to her hair, then
receded, leaving her pale and cold, while a sensation seized upon
her of being caught in a trap.
She sat down on the chair pointed out by the Head, trying to
gather up her forces to meet what was in front of her, yet feeling
absolutely bewildered.
There followed a little pause of silence. It was almost as if the
Head was not feeling quite sure about how to tackle the situation in
front of her; then she said in a crisp, businesslike manner, pointing
to the torn book in front of her, “This book, is it yours?”
“No,” said Dorothy with decision. “I am sure it is not. I have no
book so ragged and worn.”
“Perhaps you have borrowed it, then?” persisted the Head, fixing
her with a keen glance which seemed to look right through her.
“I beg your pardon?” murmured Dorothy, looking blank.
“I asked, have you borrowed it?” repeated Miss Arden patiently.
It was never her way to harry or confuse a girl.
“I have never seen it before that I can remember. What book is
it?” Dorothy fairly hurled her question at the Head, and rose from
her seat as if to take it.
The Head waved her back. “Sit still, and think a minute. This
book was found with yours on the table of your study this morning. I
have learned that you were the last girl to leave the study last night;
your books were left in a confused heap on the table, and this one
was open at the place where you had been working before you went
to bed.”
 “I was doing Latin before I went to bed,” said Dorothy, her
senses still in a whirling confusion.
“Just so. This book is a key, a translation of the book we are
doing in the Sixth this time,” said the Head slowly, “Now, do you
understand the significance of it being found among your books?”
“Do you mean that you think I was using a key last night in
preparing my Form Latin?” asked Dorothy, her eyes wide with
amazement.
“No; I only mean that appearances point to this, and I have sent
for you so that you may be able to explain—to clear yourself, if that
is possible; if not, to own up as to how far you have been depending
on this kind of thing to help you in your work and advance your
position in your form.”
Dorothy sat quite silent. Her face was white and pinched, and
there was a feeling of despair in her heart that she had never known
before. It was her bare word against this clear evidence of that torn,
disreputable old book, and how could she expect that any one was
going to believe her?
“Come, I want to hear what you have to say about it all.” The
voice of the Head had a ring of calm authority, and Dorothy found
her tongue with an effort.
“I have never used a key to help me with my Latin, or with any
of my work, and I have never seen that book before,” she said in a
low tone.
“It was found among the books you had been using before you
went to bed.” There was so much suggestion in the voice of the
Head that Dorothy gave a start of painful recollection.
“Oh! I left my books lying anyhow, and I shall have to take a
bad-conduct mark. I am so sorry, but I was frightened, and ran
away. I ought to have gone to bed when Hazel and Margaret went
down, but I wanted to finish my Latin; it takes me longer than they
to do it.”
 “What frightened you?” demanded the Head.
“While I was sitting at work, and the place was very still, I had
suddenly the sensation of some one, or something, creeping along
outside the door; I saw the handle turn, and the door creaked open
for half an inch; I cried out, but there was no answer, and I just got
up and bolted.”
“There was not much to frighten you in the fact of some one
coming along the passage and softly opening the door?”
The voice of the Head was questioning, and under the compelling
quality of her gaze Dorothy had to own up to the real cause of her
fear.
“The girls have said that the rooms up there are haunted—that a
certain something comes along at night opening the doors, sighing
heavily, and moaning as if in pain.”
“Did you hear sighs and moans?” asked the Head, her lips giving
an involuntary twitch.
“I did not stay to listen; I bolted as fast as I could go,” admitted
Dorothy. “That was why my books were not put away, or any of my
things cleared up.”
“Do you know why the girls say the rooms are haunted?” asked
the Head, and this time she smiled so kindly that Dorothy found the
courage to reply.
“I was told that a girl, Amelia Herschstein, was killed on that
landing.” Her voice was very low, and her gaze dropped to the
carpet. Standing there in the daylight it seemed so perfectly absurd
to admit that she had been nearly scared out of her senses on the
previous evening by her remembrance of a ghost story.
“You don’t seem to have got the details quite right,” said the
Head in a matter-of-fact tone. “About twenty years ago, I have been
told, the landing where the studies are was given up to the Sixth for
bedrooms; girls were not supposed to need studies then—at least
they did not have them here. There was no second staircase then;
the place where the stairs go down by the prep room of the Upper
Fifth was a small box-room which had a window with a balcony.
Amelia Herschstein was leaning over this balcony one night to talk to
a soldier from Beckworth Camp who had contrived to scrape an
acquaintance with her, when she fell, and was so injured that she
died a week later. I suppose that the idea of the haunting comes
from the fact of the Governors making such drastic alterations in
that part of the house immediately afterwards. I am sorry you were
frightened by the story, and I can understand how you would rush
away, forgetting all about your books. But your fright is a small
matter compared with this business of the torn book.” As she spoke
the Head pointed in distaste at the ragged, dirty book in front of her,
and paused, looking at Dorothy as if expecting her to speak.
Dorothy had nothing to say. Having told the Head that she had
never seen the book before, it seemed useless to repeat her
assertion.
After a little pause Miss Arden went on: “Your Form-mistress says
that she has always found you truthful and straightforward in your
work. It is possible that you have an enemy who put the book
among your things. For the present I suspend judgment. As the
matter is something of a mystery, and others of the Form may be
involved, I must also suspend the Latin marks of the entire Form to-
day. Will you please tell Miss Groome that I will come to her room,
and talk about this question of the day’s Latin, at eleven o’clock. You
may go now.”
Dorothy bowed and went out, with her head held very high and
her heart feeling very heavy.
 CHAPTER IX
UNDER A CLOUD
Dorothy understood now the reason why Hazel and Margaret had
treated her to so much cold shoulder that morning. There was a
keen sense of fairness in her make-up, and while she resented the
unfriendly treatment, in her heart she did not blame them for the
stand they had taken. If they really believed she did her work by
means of such helps as that torn book represented, then they were
quite within their rights in not wanting to have anything to do with
her. The thing which hurt her most was that they should have
passed judgment on her without giving her a chance to say a word
in her own defence. Yet even that was forgivable, seeing how strong
was the circumstantial evidence against her.
She walked into her Form-room, apologizing to Miss Groome for
being late, and she took her place as if nothing had been wrong.
The only girl who gave her a kind look, or spoke a friendly word,
was Rhoda Fleming, and Dorothy was ungrateful enough to wish she
had kept quiet.
Work went on as usual. Dorothy had given the message of the
Head to Miss Groome, who looked rather mystified, and was coldly
polite in her manner to Dorothy.
Never had a morning dragged as that one did; it took all
Dorothy’s powers of concentration to keep her mind fixed on her
work. She was thinking, ruefully enough, that she would not have
much chance of keeping her Form position if this sort of thing went
on for long. She blundered in her answers over things she knew very
well, and for the first time that term work was something of a
hardship.
Eleven o’clock at last! The hour had not done striking, and the
girls were, some of them, moving about preparing for the next work,
when the door opened, and the Head came in. She looked graver
than usual; that much the girls noticed as those who were seated
rose at her entrance, and those who were moving to and fro lined
up hastily to bow as she came in.
Motioning with her hand for them to sit down again, the Head
took the chair vacated for her by Miss Groome, and sitting down
began to talk to them, not as if they were schoolgirls merely, but as
woman to woman, telling them of her difficulty, and appealing to
their sense of honour to help her out of her present perplexity.
“I am very concerned for the honour of the school,” she said, and
there was a thrill of feeling in her voice which found an echo in the
hearts of the listeners. “This morning the prefect on duty for the
study floor found a pile of books lying partly on the table and partly
on the floor in No. 1 study. Lying open on the table, partly under the
other books, was a torn and dirty Latin key. The books were the
property of Dorothy Sedgewick, who had been the last to leave the
study overnight. The matter was reported to Miss Groome, who
brought the book to me; and I, as you know, sent for Dorothy to
come to me directly after breakfast. Dorothy says she has never
used a key, and that she had never seen that ragged old book. She
declares that it was not among her books overnight. When being
frightened by some one stealthily trying to enter her room, she rose
from her seat, and staying only to turn off the electric light, bolted
for the dorm, and went to bed. Miss Groome says she has always
found Dorothy straight in her work and truthful in her speech. This
being so, we are bound to believe her statement when she says she
has never seen that book, and that she has never used a key. But as
books do not walk about on their own feet, we have to discover who
put that book among Dorothy’s things. Can any of you give me any
information on the mystery, or tell me anything which might lead to
it being cleared up?”
There was dead silence among the girls. In fact, the hush was so
deep that they could hear a violin wailing in the distant music-room,
a chamber supposed to be sound-proof.
 When the pause had lasted quite a long time, Hazel asked if she
might speak.
“I am waiting for some of you to begin,” replied the Head, smiling
at Hazel, though in truth her heart beat a little faster. Hazel had
always been a pupil to be proud of, and it was unthinkable that she
should be mixed up in a thing of this sort.
“There was no book ragged and dirty among Dorothy’s things
when we went to bed. There could not have been a book of that
sort in the room during the evening, for we had all been turning our
books out and tidying them in readiness to start the fresh week of
work. It was not more than twenty minutes after we had come down
to bed that Dorothy came rushing down to the dorm, looking white
and frightened. She was shaking so badly that she could hardly
stand. I helped her to bed; but I don’t think she slept well, as she
had nightmare, and woke most of us with her groaning and crying—
she had plainly had a very bad scare. I have had a lot to do with her
since the term began, and I have never known her say anything that
was not true; she does not even exaggerate, as some girls do.”
The brow of the Head cleared, her heart registered only normal
beats, and she said with a smile, “I am very glad for what you have
said, Hazel. Schoolgirls have a way of sticking together in a passive
way, keeping silent when they know that one is in the wrong, and
that sort of thing; but it is wholly refreshing, and a trifle unusual in
my experience, for them to bear testimony to each other’s
uprightness as you have done.”
Dorothy’s head drooped now. It was one thing to hold it high in
conscious innocence, when she was the suspected of all, but it broke
down her self-control to hear Hazel testifying to her truthfulness.
Margaret, who was sitting at the next desk, turned suddenly and
gripped Dorothy’s hand across the narrow dividing space, and
Dorothy suddenly felt it was worth while to be in trouble, to find that
she had the friendship of these two girls.
 “Has any other girl anything to say?” asked the Head sweetly,
and she looked from one to the other, as if she would read the very
thoughts that were passing through their heads.
“Perhaps they would come to you quietly?” suggested Miss
Groome.
“I shall be pleased to see them if they prefer that way.” The Head
was smiling and serene, but there was a hint of steel under the
velvet of her manner; and then in a few quiet words she delivered
her ultimatum. “Pending the making plain of this mystery of how the
torn book came to be among Dorothy Sedgewick’s things, the whole
Form must be somewhat under a cloud. That is like life, you know;
we all have to suffer for the wrong-doing of each other. If in the past
Dorothy had been proved untruthful in speech and not straight in
her dealings, then we might have well let the punishment fall upon
her alone. As it is, you will all do your Latin for the week without any
marks. You will do your very best, too, for the girl producing poor
work in this direction will immediately put herself into the position of
a suspected person. If the statement of Dorothy, supported by the
testimony of Hazel, is to be believed, that the book was not in the
study overnight, then it must have been put there out of malice, and
it is up to you to find out who has done this thing.”
The Head rose as she finished speaking, and the girls rose too,
remaining on their feet until she had passed out of the room.
Great was the grumbling at the disaster which had fallen upon
the Form. Individual cases of cheating at work had occurred from
time to time, but nothing of this kind had cropped up within the
memory of the oldest inhabitant—not in the Sixth Form, that is to
say. It was supposed that by the time a girl had reached the Sixth
she had sown all her wild oats, and had become both outwardly and
in very truth a reliable member of society.
In this case there was malice as well as cheating. The girl who
owned the key had not merely used it to get a better place in her
form, but she had tried to bring an innocent person into trouble.
 There was an agitated, explosive feeling in the atmosphere of the
Form-room that morning. But, thanks to the hint from the Head
concerning the character of work that would be expected of them,
Miss Groome had no cause for complaint against any of them.
As Jessie Wayne sagely remarked, the real test concerning who
was the owner of the torn book would come during the week, when
the girl had to do her work without the help of her key; most likely
the task for to-day had all been prepared before the book was slid in
among Dorothy’s things.
There was a good half of the girls who believed that Dorothy had
been using the key when she was scared by the ghost who haunted
that upper floor. They did not dare put their belief into words, but
they let it show in their actions, and Dorothy had to suffer.
Her great consolation was the way in which Hazel and Margaret
championed her. They had certainly given her the cold shoulder that
first morning, but since she had asserted her innocence so strongly,
they had not swerved in their loyalty. Jessie Wayne also declared she
was positive Dorothy had never used the key, because of the trouble
she took over her Latin.
The talk of the upper floor being haunted reached the ears of
Miss Groome, making her very angry; but she went very pale too,
for, with all her learning and her qualifications, she was very
primitive at the bottom, and she had confessed to being thoroughly
scared when the Head had a talk with her that day after Form work
was over.
The Head had asked if Miss Groome suspected any of her girls in
the matter of cribbing.
“I do not,” replied the Form-mistress. “Dorothy Sedgewick has, of
course, the hardest work to keep up with her Form, but she is doing
it by means of steady plodding. She is not brilliant, but she is not to
be beaten at steady work, and it is that which counts for most in the
long run.”
 The Head nodded thoughtfully, then she asked in a rather
strange tone, “Did you wonder why I did not bring that tattered
book into the Form-room when I came to talk about it?”
“Yes, I did,” replied Miss Groome.
“I did not dare bring it because of the commotion which might
have sprung up.” The Head laughed softly as she spoke, and
unlocking an inner drawer of her desk, she produced the torn old
book which had made so much discomfort among the Sixth. “Look at
this.” As she spoke she put the dirty old thing into the hands of Miss
Groome, pointing to a name written in faded ink on the inside of the
cover.
The name was Amelia Herschstein, and when she had read it
Miss Groome asked with a little gasp, “Why! what does it mean?”
“That is just what I want to find out,” replied the Head crisply. “It
looks as if we are up against a full-sized mystery.”
 CHAPTER X
FAIR FIGHTING
The weeks flew by. There had been no clue to the mystery of
that torn book which had Amelia Herschstein’s name written inside
the cover, and in the rush of other things the matter had been nearly
forgotten by most of the girls. The Head and Miss Groome did not
forget; but whereas Miss Groome frankly admitted herself scared
stiff by the uncanny character of the find, and refused to be left
alone in the sitting-room on the upper floor when the others had
gone to bed, the Head got into the habit of walking quietly up the
stairs most nights, going along the passage, opening the doors of
the different rooms, and coming down the other stairs.
She meant to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow, but so
far she had not found much reward for her searching. When the
governors had arrived on their monthly visit to the schools, and had
come to lunch with the girls, she had invited the unsuspecting
gentlemen into her private room, and had led the talk to the days of
the past, and then had put a few searching questions about the
tragedy of Amelia Herschstein, asking who she was, and how it
came about that such an accident occurred. To her surprise she
found they resented her questioning, and her attempts to get
information drew a blank every time.
Then she took her courage in her hands, and faced the three
gentlemen squarely. “The fact is,” she said, speaking in a low tone,
“I am up against a situation which fairly baffles me. If you had been
willing to talk to me about this affair of the tragic fate of the poor
girl, I might not have troubled you with my worries, or at least not
until I had settled them. I have found that Amelia is said to walk in
the upper passage where the studies are. This has the one good
effect of making the Sixth Form girls very ready to go to bed at
night. But I find that the mistresses do not take so much pleasure as
formerly in their private sitting-room, which is, as you know, also on
that passage. Then a week or two ago a girl, alone in a study up
there, was frightened by the sensation of something coming; she
saw the handle of the door turn, and the door come gently open for
a little way. I am sorry to say she did not stay to see what would
happen next, but bolted downstairs to the dorm as fast as she could
go. The strange part of the affair was that there was found among
that girl’s books next morning a torn old book, a key to the Latin just
then being studied by the Form, and the name inside the book,
written in faded ink across the inside of the cover, was Amelia
Herschstein.”
“Whew!” The exclamation came from the most formal looking of
the governors, and taking out his handkerchief he hurriedly mopped
his face as if he was very warm indeed.
“You understand now why I am anxious to know all there is to be
known about the tragedy.” The Head looked from one to the other of
the three gentlemen as she spoke, and she noted that they seemed
very much upset.
“It was a case which landed the school in heavy trouble,” said the
formal man, after a glance at the other two as if asking their consent
to speak. “It was proved pretty clearly from things which came out
at the inquest, and what the soldier afterwards admitted, that it was
not because she had fallen in love with him that Amelia arranged
meetings and talks with this soldier. She was trying to get from him
details of a government invention on which he had been working
before he came to Beckworth Camp. Now, a love affair of that sort
was bad enough for the reputation of the school, but can you not
see how infinitely worse a thing of this kind will prove?”
“Indeed I can.” The Head was frankly sympathetic now, and she
was taking back some of the hard thoughts she had cherished
against the unoffending governors.
“It was proved, too, that the father of Amelia had been in the
German Secret Service,” went on the formal man. “Consideration for
the feelings of the bereaved parents stopped the authorities from
taking further proceedings. The soldier, a promising young fellow,
and badly smitten by the young lady who was trying to make a tool
of him, was sent to India at his own request, and was killed in a
border skirmish a few months later. You understand now how it is
we do not care even among ourselves to talk of the affair.”
“I do understand,” the Head replied. “But what you have told me
does not throw any light on the mystery of how that book came to
be with Dorothy Sedgewick’s things in the No. 1 study.”
“It only points to the probability of some of Amelia’s kin being in
the school, and if that is found to be the case they will have to go,
and at once.” The formal man shut his mouth with a snap as if it
were a rat trap, and the Head nodded in complete understanding.
“Yes, they would certainly have to go,” she said, and then she
deftly turned the talk into other channels; and being a wise, as well
as a very clever woman, she saw to it that the cloud was chased
from their faces before they went away.
Now she knew where she stood, and it was with a feeling of
acute relief that she set herself to the business of finding out the
source from which that torn book came. The first thing to do was to
have a talk with Miss Groome. Her lip curled scornfully as she
recalled the terror displayed by the Form-mistress. Of what good
was higher education for women if it left them a prey to
superstitious fears such as might have oppressed poor women who
had no education at all?

A big hockey match was engrossing the attention of every one

during the last week in November. It was big in the sense of being
very important, for they were to play against the girls of the
Ilkestone High School, and the prestige of the school with regard to
hockey would hang on the issue of the game.
It was the only game Dorothy played at all well; she was good at
centring, and she was not to be beaten for speed. The games-
mistress wanted her for outside right, and Dora Selwyn, who was
captain, agreed to this. But she exacted such an amount of practice
from poor Dorothy in the days that came before the one that was
fixed for the match that other work had to suffer, and she had to
face the prospect of her school position going down still lower.
Never once since that affair of finding the torn book among her
things had Dorothy been able to reach the fourth place in her Form.
The next week she had been fifth again, with Rhoda once more
above her, and the week after that she had suffered most fearfully at
finding Joan Fletcher also above her. All this was so unaccountable
to her because she knew that she was working just as hard as
before.
Sometimes she was inclined to think she was being downed by
circumstances. She was like a person being sucked down in a
quagmire—the more she struggled the lower down she went.
Of course this was silly, and she told herself that despair never
led anywhere but to failure.
Her keenest trouble was that she knew herself to be, by some
people, a suspected person—that is to say, there were some who
said that she must have used cribs in the past, which accounted for
her failures now that she might be afraid to use them. There was
this good in the trouble, that it made her set her teeth and strive
just so that she might show them how false their suppositions were.
The reason her position had dropped was largely due to the fact
that the other girls had worked so much harder. The words of the
Head concerning the position of slackers had fallen on fruitful
ground. No girl wanted to be looked upon as having used cribs to
help her along. The others, all of them, had the advantage of being
used to the work and routine of the Compton School. Dorothy, as
new girl, was bound to feel the disadvantages of her position.
Rhoda Fleming had a vast capacity for work, and she had also a
heavy streak of laziness in her make-up. Just now she was working
for all she was worth, and the week before the hockey match she
rose above Margaret, who seemed to shrink several sizes smaller in
consequence. She had to bear a lot of snubbing, too, for so elated
with victory was Rhoda, that she seemed quite unable to resist the
temptation of sitting on Margaret whenever opportunity occurred.
It pleased Rhoda to be quite kind, even friendly, to Dorothy, who
did not approve the change, and was not disposed to profit by it.
Two days before the hockey match Rhoda, encountering Dorothy
who was lacing her hockey boots, offered to help with her work.
“I can’t bear to see you slipping back week by week,” she said
with patronizing kindness. “Of course you are new to things. There is
that paper on chemistry that we have to do for to-morrow’s lab work
—can I help you with that?”
Dorothy stared at her in surprise, but was prompt in reply. “No,
thank you; I would rather do my work myself.”
“Yet you use cribs,” said Rhoda with an ugly smile.
Dorothy felt as if a cold hand had gripped her. “I do not!” she
said quietly, forcing herself to keep calm.
Rhoda laughed, and there was a very unpleasant sound in her
mirth. “Well, you don’t seem able to prove that you don’t, so what is
the good of your virtuous pose? If your position drops again this
week, don’t say I did not try to help you.”
The incident caused Dorothy to think furiously. She was sure that
Rhoda had, somehow, a hand in her position dropping. Was it
possible that she was boosting Joan Fletcher along in order to lower
Dorothy, and so make it appear that there could not be smoke
without a fire in the matter of that old book?
She broke into a sudden chuckle of laughter as she sat on the
low form in the boot-room lacing up her second boot. Rhoda had
departed, and she believed herself alone. Then along came
Margaret, wanting to know what the joke was; and leaning back
with her head against the wall and her boot laces in her hand,
Dorothy told her of Rhoda’s kind offer, and the threat which
followed.
“Bah! it is a fight, is it?” cried Margaret. “Well, let them rise
above us week by week if they want to. But, mind you, Dorothy, we
have got to keep our end up somehow. Hazel and I have been going
through the marks—dissecting them, you know—and we find that
both you and I have made our steady average week by week; we
have not fallen back—it is the others who have pulled up. Hazel says
she is pretty sure that Rhoda will pull above her next week. There is
one comfort—it is awfully good for Miss Groome; and I am sure the
poor thing looks as if she needs a little something to cheer her up,
for she does seem so uncommonly miserable this term—all the fun is
clean knocked out of her.”
“I wish we could work harder,” grumbled Dorothy. “Oh, this
hockey match is a nuisance! Just think what a lot of time it wastes.”
“Don’t you believe it, old thing,” said Margaret. “It is hockey, and
the gym, and things of that sort that make it possible for us to swot
at other things. It makes me mad to hear the piffle folks talk about
the time at school that is wasted on games. If the people who talk
such rot had ever worked at books as we have to work they would
very soon change their tune.”
“Oh! I know all that.” Dorothy’s tone was more than a trifle
impatient, for she was feeling quite fed-up with things. “My
complaint is that hockey makes me so tired; I am not fit for anything
but to go to sleep afterwards.”
“Just so. And isn’t that good for you?” Margaret wagged her head
with an air of great understanding. “Before I came here—when I
was working for the scholarship—I should as soon have thought of
standing on my head in the street as wasting my precious time on
games. The result was that I was always having bad headaches, and
breaking down over my work; and I used to feel so wretched, too,
that life seemed hardly worth living. Indeed, I wonder that I ever
pulled through to win the scholarship.”
 “All the same, this match is an awful nuisance,” grumbled
Dorothy; and then she was suddenly ashamed of her ill-temper and
her general tendency to grouch.
 CHAPTER XI
DOROTHY SCORES
Dora Selwyn was a downright good captain. What she lacked in
brilliance she made up in painstaking. She was always after
individual members of her team when they were playing for practice,
and she lectured them with the judgment and authority of an expert.
A lot of her spare time was taken up in studying hockey as played by
the great ones of the game. She had even gone so far as to write
letters of respectful admiration to the players of most note; and
these invariably replied, giving her the hints for which she had asked
with such disarming tact.
The match with the first team of the Ilkestone High School meant
a lot to her. That team had an uncommonly good opinion of
themselves, and, doubtless, they would not have stooped to
challenge the senior team of the Compton Girls’ School but for the
fact that they had just been rather badly beaten by a team of Old
Girls, and were anxious to give some team a good drubbing by way
of restoring their self-confidence.
The day of the match came, bringing with it very good weather
conditions. If Dora felt jumpy as to results, she had the sense to
keep her nervousness to herself, and fussed round her team with as
much clucking anxiety as a hen that is let out with a brood of
irresponsible chickens.
The match was to be played at Ilkestone. She would have been
much happier if the fight had been on their own ground; but the
arrangement had been made, and it had to stand.
Dorothy was nervous too, but she would not show it. This was
the first time she had played in an outside match with the team, and
she was very anxious to give a good account of herself.
 Her position had been changed at the last minute—that is to say,
at yesterday’s practice. Rhoda had persuaded Dora to give her the
outside right, which left Dorothy the position of outside left, which,
as every one knows, is the most difficult position of the hockey field.
Naturally, too, she smarted at being thrust into the harder task when
she had made such efforts to train for her place.
Still, there is no appeal against the command of the captain, and
Dorothy climbed into the motor charabanc that was taking them to
Ilkestone, seating herself next to Jessie Wayne, and smiling as if she
had not a care in the world.
“My word, you do look brisk, Dorothy, and as happy as if you
were going to your own wedding,” said Daisy Goatby in a grudging
tone, as the charabanc with its load of girls and several mistresses
slid out of the school gates and, mounting the steep hill past the
church, sped swiftly towards Ilkestone.
“Why shouldn’t I look happy?” asked Dorothy. “Time enough to
sit and wail when we have been beaten.”
“Don’t even mention the word, Dorothy,” said the captain
sharply; and she looked so nervy and uncomfortable that Dorothy
felt sorry enough for her to forgive her for the changed position. She
was even meek when Dora went on in a voice that jerked more than
ever: “I do hope you will do your best, Dorothy. I am horribly upset
at having to change your position, but Rhoda declared she would not
even try if I left her as outside left. So what was I to do?”
“Is she going to try now?” asked Dorothy rather grimly. She was
wondering what would have happened if she had done such a thing.
“Oh, she says she will, and one can only hope for the best; but I
shall be downright glad when it is all over, and we are on our way
back.” Dora shivered, looking so anxious that Dorothy had to do her
level best at cheering her, saying briskly,—
“I expect we shall all go back shouting ourselves hoarse, and we
shall have to hold you down by sheer force to keep you from making
a spectacle of yourself. Oh, we are going to win, don’t you worry!”
 “I wish I did not care so much,” sighed Dora. Then she turned to
give a word of counsel to another of the team, and did not lean over
to Dorothy again.
The Ilkestone team were on the ground waiting, while the rest of
the High School were drawn up in close ranks to be ready to cheer
their comrades on to victory. Dorothy’s heart sank a little at that
sight. She knew full well the help that shouting gives.
Then Hazel rushed up to her. “Dorothy, your brother Tom has just
come; he says the boys of the Fifth and Sixth are on their way here
to shout for us. Oh! here they come. What a lark it is, for sure!”
And a lark it was. The boys came streaming across the stile that
led into the playing-field from the Canterbury road; and although
they were pretty well winded from sprinting across the fields to
reach the ground in time, they let out a preliminary cheer as an
earnest of what they were going to do later on, when play had
begun.
The High School girls, not to be beaten, set up a ringing cheer
for their side. Their voices were so shrill that the sound must have
carried for a long way.
Play was pretty equal for the first quarter, then the High School
team got a bit involved by the fault of the forwards falling back
when the other side passed.
Time and again, when the backs cleared with long hits to the
wings, their skill was wasted, for the wingers were not there.
Suddenly Dorothy’s spirits went up like a rocket. She knew very
well that once falling back of the forwards had begun it was certain
to go on. For herself, she was doing her bit, and a very difficult bit it
was, and there seemed no glory in it; but wherever she was wanted,
there she was, and it was the outburst of shouting which came from
the boys that told her the side was keeping their end up.
The play was fast and furious while it lasted, and the shouting on
both sides was so continuous that it seemed to be one long yell.
 Then suddenly, for Dorothy at least, the end came. She was in
her place, when the ball came spinning to her from a slam hard
shot. She swung her stick, and caught it just right, when there was a
crashing blow on her head which fairly knocked her out. She
tumbled in a heap on the grass, and that was the last she
remembered of the struggle.
When she came to her senses again she was lying on the table in
the pavilion, and a doctor was bending over her, while the anxious
faces of Miss Groome and the games-mistress showed in the
background.
“Why, whatever has happened?” she asked, staring about her in
a bewildered fashion. “Did I come a cropper on the field?”
“Yes, I suppose that is about what you did do,” replied the doctor,
speaking with slow deliberation.
“It is funny!” Dorothy wrinkled her forehead in an effort to
remember. “I thought I hit my head against something—a most
fearful crack it seemed.”
“Ah!” The doctor gently lifted her head as he made the
exclamation; he slid off her hat, and passed his fingers gently
through her hair.
“Oh! it hurts!” she cried out sharply.
Then he saw that the back of her hat was cut through, and there
was a wound on her head. He called for various things, and those
standing round flew to fetch them. He and Dorothy were
momentarily alone, and he jerked out a sudden question: “Who was
it that fetched you that blow?”
Dorothy looked her surprise. “I am sure I don’t know,” she said
doubtfully; “there was no one quite close to me. I remember
swinging my stick up and catching the ball just right, and then I felt
the blow.”
“Some one fouled you, I suppose—a stupid thing to do,
especially as yours was such a good shot.” He was very busy with
her head as he spoke, but she twisted it out of his hands so that she
could look into his face.
“Was it a good shot?” she asked excitedly. “Did we win the
game?”
“Without doubt you would have won if it had been fought to a
finish,” he said kindly. “Now, just keep still while I attend to this dent
in your head, or you will be having a fearful headache later on.”
Dorothy did have a headache later on. In fact, it was so bad that
she was taken back to Sowergate in the doctor’s motor, instead of
riding in the charabanc with the others. She felt so confused and
stupid that it seemed ever so good to her to lie back in the car and
to have nothing to think about.
She protested vigorously, though, when the school was reached
and she was taken off to the san, to be made an invalid of for the
rest of the day.
“I really can’t afford the time,” she said, looking at the doctor in
an imploring fashion. “My Form position has been going down week
by week of late, and this will make things still worse.”
“Not a bit of it,” he said with a laugh. “You will work all the better
for the little rest. Just forget all about lessons and everything else
that is a worry. Read a story book if you like—or, better still, do
nothing at all. If you are all right to-morrow you can go to work
again; but it will depend upon the way in which you rest to-day
whether you are fit to go to work to-morrow, so take care.”
Dorothy had to submit with the best grace she could, and the
doctor handed her over to the care of the matron, with instructions
that she was to be coddled until the next day.
“I had been watching the game—that was why I happened to be
on the spot,” he said to the matron as he turned away. “I don’t think
I ever heard so much yelling at a hockey match before. I’m afraid I
did some of it myself, for the play was really very good. I did not see
how the accident happened, though; but I suppose one of the
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