poked forward, she
looked so awkward and ungainly that Ruth's tried nerves suffered afresh
at the sight.

"For pity's sake, sit up, Trix!" she cried sharply. "You look a perfect
object, bent double like that! You might be deformed, to look at your
back! If you go on like this, you will grow so round-shouldered that
you won't be able to get straight again, and how will you like that?"

Trix deliberately finished her scale, then faced her sister, and
retorted pertly--

"Very much indeed, thank you--if you will only realise that I _can't_
help it, and leave me alone! I'd rather be a humpback at once, than be
worried morning, noon, and night about deportment, as I am now. My
back's my own; I can use it as I like!"

"It's wicked to talk like that, Trix, and very impertinent as well! Who
is to tell you of your faults if we don't at home? Other people look
on, and say, `What a fright that girl looks! How shockingly she carries
herself!' But they don't trouble to tell you about it, and it is not
very pleasant for us when you take it like this. If we did not love you
and care for your interests--"

"Oh dear me," sighed naughty Trix, "then I wish you'd love me a little
less! I could bear it quite well if you lost your interest, and left me
in peace. You and Mollie can do the beauty show for the family; I am
content to represent `intellect and common-sense.' If you want
something to do, you might help me with a French exercise instead of
nagging. It's simply awful to-day; and if I lose any more marks, it's
all up with my chance of getting a prize. Now, then--will you, or won't
you?"

Trix's method of asking favours was hardly as ingratiating as might be
desired, and for a moment the chances seemed all in favour of a refusal.
The colour flamed in Ruth's cheeks, and her black brows drew ominously
near together. She was fighting a hard battle against pride and
resentment; but, as was usually the case, the better self won. She
nodded back at Trix, and said--

"I will! ... Run and bring your books. We won't venture into the
dining-room, for the boys make such a noise that one can't hear one's
own voice."

There was something very sweet in the absolute surrender of self-will,
and Trix, who was the most warm-hearted of mortals, promptly bounded up
from her stool and flung her arms round her sister's neck.

"You duck--you angel! You shall nag at me as much as ever you like, and
I'll never be cheeky again.