k. Mayfair. That means a taxi both ways. Can't arrive at
a house like that in a mackintosh, with your shoes in a bag. Much wiser
to refuse. It will only unsettle you, and make you unfit for work.
She's done the polite thing for once, because she was asked, but she'll
never do it again. I've been through it myself, and I know the ropes.
A woman like that has hundreds of friends; why should she bother about
you? You'll never be asked again."

But at that Claire laughed, and beat her hand on the table.

"But I say I shall! I say I'll be asked _often_! I don't care if
you've had a hundred experiences, mine shall be different. She has
asked me once; now, as the Yankees say, `it's up to me' to do the rest.
I'll make up my mind to make her _want_ to ask me!"

CHAPTER SEVEN.

TRANSFORMATION OF CECIL.

In the days to come when Claire looked back and reviewed the course of
events which followed, she realised that Mrs Willoughby's invitation
had been a starting-point from which to date happenings to others as
well as herself. It was, for instance, on the morning after its arrival
that Cecil's chronic discontent reached an acute stage. She appeared at
breakfast with a clouded face, grumbled incessantly throughout the meal,
and snapped at everything Claire said, until the latter was provoked
into snapping in return. In the old days of idleness Claire had been
noted for the sunny sweetness of her disposition, but she was already
discovering that teaching lays a severe strain on the nerves, and at the
end of a week's work endurance seemed at its lowest ebb. So, when her
soft answers met rebuff after rebuff, she began to grumble in her turn,
and to give back as good as she got.

"Really, Cecil, I am exceedingly sorry that your form is so stupid, and
your work so hard, but I am neither a pupil nor a chief, so I fail to
see where my responsibility comes in. Wouldn't it be better if you
interviewed Miss Farnborough instead of me?"

It was the first time that Claire had answered sharply, and for the
moment surprise held Cecil dumb. Then the colour flamed into her
cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with anger. Though forbearance had failed
to soothe her, opposition evidently added fuel to the fire.

"Miss Farnborough!" she repeated jeeringly. "What does Miss Farnborough
care for the welfare of her mistresses, so long as they grind through
their daily tasks? It is the pupils she thinks about, not us. The
pupils wh