ounds awfully affected to talk like a book all the
time."

Thus meditating, Peggy let her napkin slip down to the floor. Her
neighbour saw it, and both stooped at the same time to pick it up. Their
heads came together with a violent crack. "Ow!" cried Peggy, and rubbed
her flaxen poll vigorously. Miss Parkins was too frightened to know
whether she was hurt or not. "Never mind!" said Peggy. "It was my fault
just as much as yours. Did you get an awful crack? Oh! I mean, did you
hurt yourself?"

The poor girl murmured something, but it was more like a sob than a
speech; and Peggy could only press the limp hand again, and resolve that
when she knew the girl a little better she would try to put some spirit
into her. Her own spirit was rising. She felt that ten pairs of eyes
were watching her furtively; that her companions were taking notes, and
that every spoonful she ate was counted and criticised; but still her
courage was good, and she was even able to notice that the biscuits were
light and the peach preserves delicious.

I said ten pairs of eyes, for the eleventh had never been lifted above
the level of the table-cloth, save for that one grateful glance over the
spilt pepper. Certainly Miss Parkins was a queer-looking little person.
Very small and slight, with a certain wizened look that did not belong
to so young a face; a long, thin nose, and two small reddish-brown eyes
that looked as if they had always been given to crying. The child--she
did not look more than a child--had no beauty of any kind; yet a certain
gentleness of look redeemed the poor little face from absolute ugliness.
She was queerly dressed, too. Her gown was of good, even rich material,
but in questionable taste, and cut in a fashion that might have suited
her grandmother. Peggy's own ideas of dress were primitive, and she was
not very observant, but she did feel that blue poplin stamped with large
red roses was not a suitable dress for a schoolgirl, even if she were
not small and plain and wizened, and even if it were not cut in a bygone
fashion.

Peggy saw, or fancied she saw, glances of amused contempt thrown at her
poor little neighbour.

"All the more reason," she thought, "why I should make friends with
her."

"Do you--did you come yesterday, or the day before?" she asked, as
cheerfully as she could.

"Oh! yes, I think so!" was the reply, in a gasping whisper. This was not
very encouraging, but Peggy proceeded.

"Did you have far to