ng but break into a short hysterical laugh and
exclaim--aimlessly and as if without any meaning, "Oh, Sara, is that
you?"

"Yes," answered Sara, and suddenly a strange thought passed through her
mind and made her face flush. She held the pile of garments in her
arms, and her chin rested upon the top of it to keep it steady.
Something in the look of her straight-gazing eyes made Ermengarde lose
her wits still more. She felt as if Sara had changed into a new kind
of girl, and she had never known her before. Perhaps it was because she
had suddenly grown poor and had to mend things and work like Becky.

"Oh," she stammered. "How--how are you?"

"I don't know," Sara replied. "How are you?"

"I'm--I'm quite well," said Ermengarde, overwhelmed with shyness. Then
spasmodically she thought of something to say which seemed more
intimate. "Are you--are you very unhappy?" she said in a rush.

Then Sara was guilty of an injustice. Just at that moment her torn
heart swelled within her, and she felt that if anyone was as stupid as
that, one had better get away from her.

"What do you think?" she said. "Do you think I am very happy?" And she
marched past her without another word.

In course of time she realized that if her wretchedness had not made
her forget things, she would have known that poor, dull Ermengarde was
not to be blamed for her unready, awkward ways. She was always
awkward, and the more she felt, the more stupid she was given to being.

But the sudden thought which had flashed upon her had made her
over-sensitive.

"She is like the others," she had thought. "She does not really want
to talk to me. She knows no one does."

So for several weeks a barrier stood between them. When they met by
chance Sara looked the other way, and Ermengarde felt too stiff and
embarrassed to speak. Sometimes they nodded to each other in passing,
but there were times when they did not even exchange a greeting.

"If she would rather not talk to me," Sara thought, "I will keep out of
her way. Miss Minchin makes that easy enough."

Miss Minchin made it so easy that at last they scarcely saw each other
at all. At that time it was noticed that Ermengarde was more stupid
than ever, and that she looked listless and unhappy. She used to sit
in the window-seat, huddled in a heap, and stare out of the window
without speaking. Once Jessie, who was passing, stopped to look at her
curiously.

"What are you crying for, Ermeng