Well, we couldn't have much worse weather than this for the last week of school, could we? Margaret Paget said in discouragement. She stood at one of the school windows, her hands thrust deep in her coat pockets for warmth, her eyes following the whirling course of the storm that howled outside. The day had commenced with snow, but now, at twelve o'clock the rain was falling in sheets, and the barren schoolhouse yard, and the playshed roof, ran muddy streams of water.