r
her pains. I don't know about enjoying what she hates, but she
certainly loves trying to help other people, and I admire her for it. I
wish to goodness I were like her!"

At this she smiled more provokingly than ever.

"Yes. I've noticed the imitation. It's amusing. All the more so that
it is so poor a success. Your temper is not of the quality to be kept
persistently in the background, my dear."

It isn't. But I _had_ tried hard to keep patient and gentle the last
few weeks, even when Vere aggravated me most. I had been so achingly
sorry for her that I would have cut off my right hand to help her, so it
hurt when she gibed at me like that.

"I'm sorry I was impatient! I wanted so badly to help you, dear. You
must forgive me if I was cross."

"Babs, _don't_!" she gasped, and her face was convulsed with emotion.
For one breathless moment, as we clutched hands and drew close together,
I thought the breakdown had come at last, but she fought down her sobs,
crying in tones of piteous entreaty--

"Don't let me cry! Stop me! Oh, Babs, don't let me do it. If I once
begin I can never stop!"

"But wouldn't it be a relief to you, darling? Everyone has been
terrified lest you were putting too great a strain on yourself. If you
gave way once to me--it doesn't matter for me--it might do you good.
Cry, darling, if you want, and I'll cry with you!"

But she protested more vigorously than ever. "No, no, I daren't! I
can't face it! Be cross with me--be neglectful--leave me to myself, but
for pity's sake don't be so patient, Babs! It makes me silly, and I
must keep up, whatever happens. Say something now to make me stop--
quickly!"

"I expect the men will be here any moment. You'll look hideous with red
eyes," I said gruffly. It was the only thing I could think of, and
perhaps it did as well as anything else, for she calmed down by degrees,
and there was no more sign of a breakdown that night.

After that day we seemed to understand each other better, and when I saw
danger signals I was snappy on purpose, and felt like a martyr when Will
and Mr Carstairs glared at me, and thought what a wretch I was. We
wanted Vere to be resigned and natural about her illness, but we dreaded
and feared a hysterical breakdown, which must leave her weaker than
ever, and she had said herself that if she once began to cry she could
never leave off.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.