ouch of her fingers was very soothing.

'Why--why won't you let me go away?' sobbed Babs, and the tears rained
down her cheeks again.

'Why?' echoed Miss Finlayson, producing a handkerchief that had not been
used, like Barbara's, to mop up ink blots. 'Because I want you myself,
to be sure.'

She dried the child's eyes as she spoke; and the small tear-stained face
looked up at her wistfully. 'Do you want me?' asked Barbara. 'Does anybody
want me--_truthfully_?'

Miss Finlayson nodded, and a look slowly deepened in her face that gave
the child confidence. 'Yes, Babs, truthfully,' she answered. Then she
repeated for the last time, 'Are you coming to prayers?' And keeping the
hot little hand within hers, she led her upstairs to the chapel.

At Wootton Beeches the girls always walked in and out of chapel in
the order of their classes, beginning at the top of the school. But,
this evening, the youngest child in the school walked out in front of
everybody, for Miss Finlayson held her by the hand and would not let
her go. They stood together, a curiously assorted couple, at the end of
the passage that led to the other wing of the house; and one after another
the girls passed them on their way to their rooms. There was not a
sound for some moments, except the tapping of footsteps on the polished
boards; then, walking last of all, came Jean Murray. Babs broke from her
companion and flung herself impetuously forward.

'I say, I'm awfully sorry I thumped you on the head just now,' she began,
and held out her hand invitingly to the enemy. 'I wasn't a bit sorry at
first, and I wanted to do it again, _frightfully_; but I am sorry now,
and I don't.'

The girls who were still in the passage lingered, and looked back.
Evidently, there was no end to the sensations that Barbara Berkeley
meant to produce in her first term at school.

'Hush!' whispered Jean, glancing round timorously at the head-mistress.

Babs looked amazed. 'Won't you shake hands?' she asked. 'I know I thumped
you awfully hard, but still----'

'Sh-sh!' repeated Jean, trying to push past her. 'Don't you know we're not
allowed----'

'I think--I _do_ think you might make it up,' continued Babs, in a
disappointed tone. 'Even if I did hurt you rather, you must own you were
very mean.'

Jean Murray, feeling the eyes of authority fixed upon her, made another
attempt to escape. 'Can't you wait till to-morrow?' she asked in an
agitated whisper.

'I should have wait