us of my poor work, of course,
but I can feel a something--a wall or barrier--that she raises up
between us whenever my work is spoken of. I felt it when we talked
about the subject of the prize designs, and I felt it today more
clearly than ever. We can't be friends any more as we were, I'm
afraid. Something has come between us. 'The little rift within the
lute,'" she quoted sorrowfully.

"'That by and by will make the music mute,'" ended Patricia dismally.
"Oh, I hope not, Norn. I hope it'll all turn out well and we can go on
pleasantly and peaceably for the rest of the term. I hate rows and
suspicions. I'd like to live 'in charity and love to all men,' but I'm
always getting into scrapes. I no sooner learn to like a person than
they turn out to be fakes."

"I haven't gone that far," Elinor gently reminded her. "I didn't mean
to say that Doris Leighton was a fake. I only meant that my feelings
toward her had changed. You don't have to give up your admiration for
her, Pat dear."

Patricia shook her head slowly from side to side. "'Whither thou goest
I will go,'" she quoted. "I won't have her for a friend if she gives
you the creeps, Norn, and you know it. I've been mistaken in people
before, but you've always been the same old true blue. You and Miss
Jinny know better than I do, and I give in. I won't be an enemy--you
wouldn't want that--but I won't be a real friend like I have been,
doing errands and helping her stretch canvases and all that. You and I
will stand together always, old lady, and if the Roberts prize has done
nothing but show us how very nice we each think the other is, it will
have had its uses as far as we are concerned."

They sat in comfortable silence till they heard the front door slam and
Judith's feet on the stair.

"I wonder what that young monkey is up to?" laughed Patricia as they
heard Judith moving about in her room, preparing for dinner with the
alacrity of hungry virtue. "She won't let on for the world, but I know
she's feeling mighty important about something. I can tell by the way
she whisks about that she's enjoying herself immensely."

CHAPTER XII

JUDITH'S DISCOVERY

"I'll never again say that the literary instinct is a burden and a
reproach, Ju," said Patricia, with her eyes dancing and her head high.
"Your thirst for 'plots' has proved too serviceable for me ever to
point the finger of scorn in its direction."

It was a brisk, sunny day, and they