nded strange in her own
ears.

"Harold, I--have--failed! I am plucked. I have not passed at all--not
even a common pass."

"No? I'm uncommonly sorry, but--"

"But do you realise it; do you understand what it means? I _think_ I
do, but I don't. If I did, I should not be here talking quietly to you.
I should go mad! I should want to kill myself. I should be
desperate!"

"Don't be silly now, Ro. It's a big disappointment, and I'm sorry for
you, but it's not a bit of use working yourself into hysterics. Face
the thing quietly, and see--"

"All that it means--. It means a good deal, Harold; more than you can
understand. I think I'd rather be alone, please. You are very kind,
but I can't stand consolation just yet. I'll sit in the arbour."

"Just as you please. I don't want to force myself, but I'd like to help
you, old girl. Is there nothing else I can do?"

"Yes; keep mother away! Don't let her come near me until lunch. I am
best left alone, and she doesn't understand--no one understands except
those who have been at school, and know how--how hard--"

The girl's voice trembled, and broke off suddenly, and she walked away
in the direction of the summer-house, while Harold thrust his hands into
his pockets and kicked the pebbles on the gravel path. He was very fond
of his impetuous young sister, and the quivering sob which had strangled
her last word echoed painfully in his ears. He realised as neither
father nor mother could do what such a failure meant to a proud,
ambitious girl, and how far-reaching would be its consequences. It was
not to-day nor to-morrow that would exhaust this trouble; the bitterest
part was yet to come when she returned to school, and received the
condolences of her more successful companions; when she sat apart and
saw them receive their reward. Harold longed to be able to help, but
there was nothing to do but persuade his parents to leave the girl
alone, and to return at intervals to satisfy himself that she was still
in her retreat, and not attempting to drown her sorrows in the lake.
Three times over he paced the path, and saw the white-robed figure
sitting immovable, with elbows planted on the table, and falling locks
hiding the face from view. So still she sat that he retired silently,
hoping that she had fallen asleep, but on the fourth visit he was no
longer alone, but accompanied by a graceful, girlish figure, and they
did not halt until they stood on the very