You might
tell me. How'm I ever to get to know if you won't?"

Rona's clear blue eyes, unconsciously wistful, looked straight into
Ulyth's. The latter sprang to her feet without a word. The force of her
own motto seemed suddenly to be revealed to her. She rushed away into
the shadow of the trees to think it over for herself.

"That light which has been given to me I desire to pass undimmed to
others."

Those were the words she had repeated so earnestly less than an hour
ago. And she was already about to make them a mockery! Yes, that was
what Mrs. Arnold had meant. She had known it all the time, but she would
not acknowledge it even to her innermost heart. Was this what was
required from a Torch-bearer--to pass on her own refinement and culture
to a girl whose crudities offended every particle of her fastidious
taste? Ulyth sat down on a stone and wept hot, bitter, rebellious tears.
She understood only too well why she had been so miserable for the last
three days. She had disliked Miss Bowes for hinting that she was not
keeping her word, and had told herself that she was a much-tried and
ill-used person.

"I must do it, I must, or fail at the very beginning!" she sobbed. "I
know what Mother would say. It's got to be; if for nothing else, for the
sake of the school. A Torch-bearer mustn't shirk and break her pledge.
Oh, how I shall loathe it, hate it! Ulyth Stanton, do you realize what
you're undertaking? Your whole term's going to be spoilt."

The big bell in the tower was clanging its summons to return, with
short, impatient strokes. Everybody joined hands in a circle round the
ashes of the camp-fire, to sing in a low chant the good-night song of
the League and "God Save the Queen". Mr. Arnold, who had come to fetch
his wife, was sounding his hooter as a signal on the drive. The
evening's fun was over. Regretfully the girls collected cups, spoons,
and kettle, and made their way back to the house.

On Sunday morning Ulyth, with a very red face, marched into the study,
and announced:

"Miss Bowes, I've been having a tussle. One-half of me said: 'Don't
have Rona in your room at any price!' and the other half said: 'Let her
stop!' I've decided to keep her."

"I knew you would, when you'd thought it over," beamed Miss Bowes.

"Are all New Zealanders the same?" asked Ulyth. "I've not met one
before."

"Certainly not. Most of them are quite as cultured and up-to-date as
ourselves. There are splendid s