iny. She'll
be in London to-night. Oh, did you ever hear of anything quite so
scrumptious? But what's the matter, dear?"

"Kathleen, I wish you wouldn't wear that really good dress going to
school."

"Is it my old lavender, and my old satin blouse?" said Kathleen, looking
down at herself with a momentary glance. "Ah, then, my dear tired one,
it isn't dresses I'll be thinking of when Aunt Katie is in London.
She'll get me more than I can wear. She'll fig you all out, every one of
you, if you like--you and Alice and David and Ben and cook and Maria.
Maria is keeping company, she tells me, and would like a few fine
clothes--naturally, the creature! Well, Mrs. Tennant, it's herself that
is crossing, as I said; even now she is in the big steamer, coming
nearer and nearer to England. Shan't we have fun when she arrives?"

"You haven't told me who it is yet, dear."

"Oh, darling, you haven't been listening. It is the dear woman who sent
me the box full of new clothes--Aunt Katie O'Flynn, at your service. But
there! I must be off. I'll think of it all day, and it will make me so
happy."

Kathleen dashed away to her own room, put on her outdoor things, and a
moment or two later was running as fast as she could in the direction of
the White Cross Corner. There she saw a silent, grave-looking girl, very
quietly dressed, standing waiting for her.

"Here I am," said Kathleen; "and here you stand, Ruth. And now, what
have you got to say for yourself?"

"I am sorry," said Ruth. "I thought when you sent Susy to me with your
message that I might as well come here this morning; but I haven't
changed my mind--not a bit of it."

Kathleen's eyes, always extraordinarily dark for blue eyes, now grew
almost black. A flash of real anger shot through them.

"Don't you think it is rather mean," she said, "to give me up when you
promised to belong to me--to give me up altogether and to go with those
dreadful, proud paying girls?"

"It isn't that," said Ruth, "and you know it. It is just this: I can't
belong to two sides. Cassandra Weldon offers me an advantage which I
dare not throw away. It is most essential to me to win the sixty-pounds
scholarship. If I win it I shall be properly educated. When I leave
school I'll be able to take the position my dear father, had he lived,
would have wished for me. I shall be able to support granny and
grandfather. You see for yourself, Kathleen, that I can't refuse it. It
isn't a question of choice