on the luncheon table; but when questioned
she had always a smile and an easy excuse.

"What can you expect in this weather? No one but a fish could help
aching in these floods. I'm perfectly all right!"

But one morning this week, meeting her on an upper landing, Claire
discovered Sophie apparently dragging herself along with her hands, and
punctuating each step with a gasp of pain. She stood still and stared,
whereupon Sophie instantly straightened herself, and ascended the
remaining steps in a normal manner.

"Sophie," cried Claire sternly, "don't pretend! I heard you; I saw you!
My dear girl, is the rheumatism so bad?"

Sophie twisted her head this way and that, her lips pursed in warning.

"S-sh! Be careful! You never know who is about. I _am_ rather stiff
to-day. This raw fog has been the last straw. I shall be all right
when we get through this month. I hate March! It finds out all the
weak spots. Please, Claire, don't take any notice. A Gym. mistress has
no business to have rheumatism. It's really very good for me to be
obliged to keep going. It is always worse at the beginning of the day."

Claire went away with a pain in her heart, and the pain grew steadily as
she watched Sophie throughout the week. The pretty face was often drawn
with pain, she rose and sat down with an obvious effort; and still the
rain poured, and the dark fog enveloped the city, and Sophie struggled
to and from her work in a thin blue serge suit which had already seen
three winters' wear.

One day the subject came up for discussion in the staff-room, and Claire
was shocked and surprised at the attitude of the other teachers. They
were sorry for Sophie, they sympathised, to a certain extent they were
even anxious on her account, but the prevailing sentiment seemed to be
that the kindest thing was to take no notice of her sufferings. No use
pitying her; that would only make her more sorry for herself. No use
suggesting cures; cures take time, not to speak of money. The Easter
holidays would soon be here; perhaps she might try something then. In
the meantime--_tant pis_! she must get along as best she could. There
was simply no time to be ill.

"I've a churchyard cough myself," declared the Arts mistress. "I stayed
in bed all Saturday and Sunday, and it was really a little better, but
it was as bad as ever after a day in this big draughty hole."

"And I am racked with neuralgia," chimed in Miss Bates. The su