t, Nancy?"

Nancy stroked her chin with a meditative air.

"I _did_ see a stylo somewhere! I remember noticing it--a very nice
one. Quite new."

"Yes--yes; that's it. Where was it? Do think, Nancy! Cudgel your
brains."

"I am cudgelling them--I'm cudgelling _hard_." Nancy nipped her chin
between her finger and thumb, and knitted her brows till her eyebrows
appeared to meet. "I saw it this morning. It was lying on a shelf,
near a window. I can see it before me now." She waved her hand in the
air. "Like a picture. Distinctly!"

"Yes--yes--yes! But where? _Think_! In the big classroom?"

"No-o; I think not. No; certainly not the big classroom?"

"Miss Drake's room, then? The study? Number 5? Our bedroom? If you
can see it distinctly, you _must_ know."

Nancy frowned on, apparently plunged in thought, then slowly a flash
seemed to irradiate her features.

"I have it!" she cried triumphantly. "It was in the window of the
chemist's shop! I saw it as we passed by in walk.--A beautiful black
brand-new stylo!"

The audience sniggered with enjoyment, for though not quite so heartless
as their brothers, it cannot be denied that most school-girls take a
mischievous delight in teasing their companions. Dreda Saxon was,
moreover, from this point of view an amusing victim, for when a joke was
directed against herself her sense of humour was temporarily eclipsed,
and she took refuge in what was laughingly dubbed "heroics." Now, as
usual, her eyes flashed, her chin tilted itself in air, and her voice
swelled in deep-toned reproof.

"That is not funny, Nancy--it is _unkind_! To laugh at people who are
in trouble is a sign of a mean, unprincipled mind. I am surprised that
you condescend to such depths."

A shriek of laughter followed this reproof, and as she marched
majestically from the room Dreda caught a glimpse of Nancy beaming and
unrepentant, pretending to wring tears out of a dry pocket-handkerchief.
In that moment she mentally added three "heads" to the essay on life,
and headed them with large capital letters: Misunderstanding. Mockery.
Faithless Friends.

During the next week Dreda spent every moment that could be spared from
ordinary school-work in working at her essay, alternating between wild
elation and depths of despair as her thoughts flowed or flagged. Her
home letter was full of the all-absorbing topic, but Rowena's reply was
a great surprise--for behold, pessimistic repinings