hem once
more. There was the usual clattering of inkwells and requests for new
pens, and then Miss Marlowe went to her desk, and according to custom
one by one the class brought up their books to receive her suggestions
and criticisms.

Judith wrote her corrections mechanically and slowly, but her mind was
working swiftly. That's what she had been doing, judging Nancy, saying,
'_I_ wouldn't have done it'; criticizing, not trying to understand, and
she had judged herself, condemned herself to do without Nancy and the
precious possession of Nancy's friendship. Darling Nancy! She might have
been loving her all this time for the good in her, her sweetness, her
unfailing kindness, her absolute squareness, her dearness.

Judith's eyes were shining as she carried up her book to Miss Marlowe,
and the fervency with which she said, "Thank you," when Miss Marlowe had
finished her criticism, brought a happy smile to Miss Marlowe's own
eyes.

"That child's got the idea," she said to herself; "Well, if _one_ seed
falls into good ground it's worth while--splendidly worth while."

The recess bell rang and Five A lost no time filing out to the corridor
and thence to tuck shop and gymnasium, but Judith was delayed by her
duties as monitress and Nancy was not to be seen when she reached the
corridor. Down to the tuck shop sped Judith.

"Seen Nancy?" she asked Jane who was rapidly consuming two large buns
and an ice-cream cone.

"Gone up to her room, I think," said Jane.

Upstairs fled Judith without waiting for permission and found Nancy
just leaving the "Jolly Susan."

"Oh, Nancy, I have been hunting for you everywhere."

"Oh, Judy, I was just looking for you. After what Miss Marlowe
said--about our friends--I didn't want to wait another minute feeling
that you were still angry with me. Do tell me what I did and let me tell
you how sorry I am."

"And I was looking for you, Nancy, dear--to tell you how horrid I'd
been. It was just a little thing not worth mentioning now, but I didn't
wait to try to understand. Oh, Nancy, I've missed you so!"

And they kissed and were friends.

"I wouldn't teach English composition for all the world," said Miss
Hilton, eyeing the big pile of sixth-form books which Miss Marlowe was
attacking late that evening.

"And _I_ wouldn't take all the world _not_ to teach English
composition," retorted Miss Marlowe proudly. "Besides," she added with
true Irish lucidity, "it isn't English composition