can then allow three weeks for composition and a week for
typing, and still have the magazine ready a week before the holidays. I
have quite decided that everything must be typed: the effect, as a
whole, will be far better. Faults in style and composition stand out
before us in print as they never do in our own familiar handwriting.
Moreover, I have other schemes working in my head." She paused, smiling
mysteriously. "I won't explain now, but later on, perhaps ... Do your
best, girls! Some of you have real talent. Who knows, this little
venture may be the beginning of some great career. How proud I should
be in time to come if I could say of a celebrated author: `She was my
pupil. She wrote her first story or essay or poem for our school
magazine!'"

She paused, looking round the class. Once more her gaze lingered on
Susan's downcast face, but there was no response in its immovable lines.
The other girls vouchsafed strained, uneasy smiles. Only from Dreda's
ecstatic eyes there flashed back a joyful comprehension. How beautiful
the girl looked! Her vivid colouring, all pink, and white, and gold,
made an almost startling contrast to the duller tints of the other
girls.

It was impossible to resist the fascination of so fair a sight, yet
there was a touch of wistfulness in the teacher's smile.

The class dismissed, it was time to go upstairs to dress for supper, and
Dreda found herself alone in the bedroom with her two companions. Nancy
peeled off her blouse, threw it upon the bed, and brushed out her heavy
locks in determined silence. Susan approached Dreda with a tremulous
smile.

"Oh, Dreda--I'm glad! I hope the magazine will be a success. If I can
help you in any way do let me try."

But Dreda glared at her with sparkling eyes.

"You are _not_ glad! You tried your very best to be editor yourself,
though you _knew_ how disappointed I should be. I thought you were my
friend. You are not. You are an enemy, and not even an honest enemy at
that! You need not trouble yourself about me any more, for lessons or
anything else. I can get on quite well alone!"

Susan shrank, as if from a blow.

"Dreda, you are angry. You don't understand. It's no trouble. I love
to help you."

"Much obliged. I don't care for such help. Please don't talk to me any
more. I _am_ angry. I have a right to be angry!"

Dreda pulled her screen with a jerk, cutting herself off from the corner
where Susan performe