her more than once.
She refers to little Miss Rawle as 'my crush,' but her tone is
unpleasantly sarcastic. Miss Rawle honestly admires Miss West and seems
to have a great deal of faith in her ability to write. Sometimes
Kathleen is the soul of hospitality. At other times she barely responds
to Miss Rawle's timid remarks. When she behaves in that fashion I feel
tempted to give her a good shaking. More than once I have seen Miss
Rawle say good night when she looked ready to cry."

"I wish I knew how to get hold of Kathleen," said Grace, looking
troubled. "It is simply a case of good material going to waste, isn't
it?"

Patience shrugged her square shoulders. "I had a glimmer of hope that,
once she and I became accustomed to each other, we might at least dwell
together in peace. So far peace has been maintained by great effort on
my part. How much longer it will endure is a question."

At the door of Wayne Hall Grace paused irresolutely. "Oh, dear!" she
exclaimed, "I forgot to stop at the stationer's, and I need a lot of
little things, too. I must go back and get them. Will you come with me,
Patience?"

Patience shook her head. "I want to read for a few minutes before
dinner. It is almost the only time I have to read for pleasure. You
won't care if I go on upstairs, will you, Grace?"

"Of course not. I wish I didn't have to go. I'll see you at dinner."

Grace hurried down the walk on her errand, while Patience went on into
the house and to her room.

CHAPTER V

A DECLARATION OF WAR

The October twilight had fallen before the two girls finished their
walk. When Patience opened her door she did not at first glance see the
huddled figure crouched close to the window. A sound, half sob, half
sigh, caused her to cross the room in an instant.

"Who are you, and what is the trouble?" were her blunt questions.

The girl burrowed her face in her arm and made no answer.

"Get up!" commanded Patience, an imperative note in her voice that
caused the girl to half struggle to her feet, then sink sobbing to her
old position.

"This won't do at all," remonstrated Patience. "You mustn't sit here.
Stop crying instantly." She purposely made her voice coldly
unsympathetic with a view toward summoning the weeper's pride to her
aid.

It had the desired effect. The girl rose from the floor and stumbled
toward the door, her head still hidden on her arm.

With a cry of, "Why, it is Miss Rawle!" Patience sprang forward a