omasina alone. We will not have our Head Girl insulted, if we know
it. If you say another word we will turn you out into the passage."

"Thank you, Beatrice; no need to get excited; I can fight my own battles
without your help. This little difference is between Rhoda and me, and
we must settle it together. I think we could talk matters over more
comfortably in my study, without interrupting your rest hour. May I
trouble you, Miss Chester? Three doors along the passage. I won't take
you far out of your way!"

Thomasina rose from her seat, and waved her hand towards the door. She
was all smiles and blandness, but a gasp of dismay sounded through the
room, as if a private interview in the Head Girl's study was no light
thing to contemplate.

Rhoda's heart beat fast with apprehension. What was going to happen.
What would take place next? It was like the invitation of the spider to
the fly--full of subtle terror. Nevertheless, her pride would not allow
her to object, and, throwing back her head, she marched promptly, and
without hesitation, along the corridor.

CHAPTER NINE.

HAVING IT OUT.

Thomasina led the way into her study, and shut the door behind her. It
was a bare little room, singularly free from those photographs and nick-
nacks with which most girls love to adorn a private sanctum. It looked
what it was--a workroom pure and simple, with a pile of writing
materials on the table, and the walls ornamented with maps and sheets of
paper, containing jottings of the hours of classes and games. On the
mantelpiece reposed a ball of string, a dogskin glove, a matchbox, and a
photograph of an elderly gentleman, whose pike-like aspect sufficiently
proclaimed his relationship. There were three straight-back chairs,
supplied by the school, and two easier ones of Thomasina's own
providing, both in the last stages of invalidism.

The mistress of this luxurious domain turned towards her visitor with a
hospitable smile.

"Sit down," she cried, "make yourself comfortable. Not that chair--the
spokes have given way, and it might land you on the floor. Try the
blue, and keep your skirts to the front, so that it won't catch on the
nails. I can't think how it is that my chairs go wrong. I'm always
tinkering at them. Nice little study, isn't it? So cosy!"

"Ye-es!" assented Rhoda, who privately thought it the most forlorn-
looking apartment she had ever seen, but was in no mood to discuss
either its mer