ed, so
life-like and speaking in its well-known attitude, that the more
sentimental of the girls shed tears of joy at beholding it. Closely
following it came other contributions to the gallery, which the new-
comers examined with keenest interest, feeling more able to understand
the enthusiasm of their seniors, now that the well-known names were
attached to definite personalities.

About this time, too, arrived a full report of the examination, and, as
had been expected, Rhoda was found to have failed in arithmetic. In
other subjects she had done well, gaining the longed-for distinction in
German and French, so that if only-- Oh! that little "If!" How much it
meant! That terrible mountainous "If," which made all the difference
between failure and success! _If_ it had been a dark morning and she
had slept on! _If_ she had given way to temptation, and dozed off in
the middle of her work! _If_ she had listened to Evie's words of
warning!--If but one of those possible Ifs had been accomplished, she
would have been among the happy crowd to-day, and not standing miserably
apart, the only girl in the house who had failed to pass. The wild
grief of the first few days swept back like a wave and threatened to
overwhelm her, but she clung to the remembrance of Tom's words, and told
herself passionately that she would _not_ "whine"! She would not pose
as a martyr! Even on that great occasion when the certificates were
presented in Great Hall, and the school burst into ecstatic repetitions
of "See the Conquering Hero Comes!" as each fresh girl walked up to the
platform, even through that dread ordeal did Rhoda retain her self-
possession, attempting--poor child--to add a trembling note to the
chorus.

She never knew, nor guessed, that the girls honoured her more in that
moment than if she had won a dozen distinctions. She did not see the
kindly glances bent upon her by the teachers, for they were careful to
turn aside when she looked in their direction; and if she had seen, she
would never have believed it was admiration, and not pity, which those
looks expressed. In her estimation the occasion was one of pure,
unalloyed humiliation, and when she reached the shelter of her cubicle
she seized the hand-glass and examined her ruddy head anxiously beneath
the electric globe.

"It isn't true!" she exclaimed. "The ghost stories tell lies. I don't
believe now that anyone's head ever turned white in a night. I can't
see a