pping. I had to struggle hard to be honest, and all the time you
were watching me--and waiting! I didn't know that, but it shows how
stupid it is to think that one can do wrong and not be found out.
Well!"--she drew a long, fluttering breath--"you succeeded, Norah. It
was a great success. Susan got the prize, and I was humiliated before
everybody, and heartbroken with disappointment. I thought I should
really have to commit suicide that night, I felt so bad. It's the
biggest trial I have ever known, so you may be quite satisfied. It was
a great success."

Norah looked up sharply; but no, there was no sneer on Dreda's lips.
The big, sad eyes stared into hers with childlike candour and
simplicity. Norah bit her lip, and swallowed nervously.

"I--I'm _not_ satisfied!"

"Oh, but why? You have gained all you wanted. It seems a pity that no
one should be pleased. Susan wasn't a bit; she was miserable because
_I_ was miserable, and all the girls were sorry for me, and were nicer
than ever before. There's only you to _be_ glad, Norah. It was your
plan, and you succeeded. You needn't mind me. I've tasted the dregs.
Nothing can ever be so bitter to me again."

Norah made no reply. Her lips were pursed so tightly together that
there was nothing to be seen but a thin red line. She glanced furtively
from one corner of the room to another; to the floor, to the ceiling, to
anywhere but just the spot where Dreda sat, looking at her with those
big, mournful eyes. In her many imaginings of the scene she had never
pictured such a _denouement_ as this. She had schooled herself to hear
furious denunciations, but the pitiful calm of Dreda's grief was ten
times more difficult to bear.

Both girls were still weak and unfitted to bear long mental strain. The
shaking of the bed testified to the nervous tremblings of Norah's body.
Dreda lay back against her cushions, and the weak tears rolled down her
cheeks. The scones and cakes lay neglected upon the table, and the tea
grew cold in the cups. Each minute seemed like an hour, crowded as it
was with thoughts of such intensity as come rarely to careless, happy
youth. Norah looked back on her finished schooldays, and acknowledged
to her own heart that her want of popularity was the result, not of the
prejudice of others but of her own jealous, ungenerous nature. Dreda,
looking forward to the future, resolved to be less egotistical, less
confident, to consider more tender