tomach as if locating the seat of her misery. She
asked merrily:

"Is it there we keep our consciences? I never knew before and am glad
to find out."

But Gwendolyn didn't laugh. She was an odd sort of girl, and always
desperately earnest in whatever she undertook. She had made up her
mind she must confess to the "Commoner" the things she had done
against her; she was sincerely sorry for them now, but she couldn't
make that confession gracefully. She caught her breath as if before a
plunge into cold water and then blurted out:

"I told 'our set' that you were Dawkins's niece! I said you were a
disgrace to the school and one of us would have to leave it. But Mamma
wouldn't take _me_ and I couldn't make _you_ go. I got mad and
jealous. Everybody liked you, except the girls I'd influenced. The
Bishop petted you--he never notices me. Miss Tross-Kingdon treats you
almost as lovingly as she does Millikins-Pillikins. All the servants
smile on you and nobody is afraid of you as everybody is of me.
Dawkins, and sometimes even Mamma, accuses me of a 'sharp tongue'
that makes enemies. But, somehow, I can't help it. And the worst
is--one can't get back the things one has said and done, no matter how
she tries. Then you went and saved my life!"

At this, the strange girl covered her face and began to cry, while
Dorothy stared at her, too surprised to speak. Until the tears changed
to sobs and Gwendolyn shook with the stress of her emotion. Then,
fearing serious results, Dorothy forgot everything except that here
was someone in distress which she must soothe. Down on her knees she
went, flung her arms around the shaking shoulders, and pleaded:

"Well, you poor dear, can't you be glad of that? Even if you can never
like me isn't it good to be alive? Aren't you grateful that somebody
who could swim, even poor I, was at the pool to help you out of it
that day? Forget it, do forget it, and get well and happy right away.
I'll keep away from you as far as I can and you must forgive me for
coming here again just now."

"Forgive you? Forgive you! Oh! Dorothy Calvert, can you, will you ever
forgive me? After all my meanness to you, could you make yourself like
me just a little?"

Gwendolyn's own arms had now closed in eager entreaty about the girl
she had injured. Her pride was humbled at last and completely. But
there was no need of further speech between them. They clung together
in their suddenly awakened affection, at peace and s