omposure,
on the jeopardy in which she had placed herself one little turn of the
wheel in the wrong direction, and the end of her schooldays would have
been shame and disgrace.--And just as her discovery of God's stratagem
had damped her religious ardour, so her antipathy to the means she had
been obliged to employ had left a feeling of enmity in her, towards the
school and everything connected with it: she had counted the hours till
she could turn her back on it altogether. None the less, now that the
time had come there was a kind of ache in her at having to say
good-bye; for it was in her nature to let go unwillingly of things,
places and people once known. Besides, glad as she felt to have done
with learning, she was unclear what was to come next. The idea of life
at home attracted her as little as ever--Mother had even begun to hint
as well that she would now be expected to instruct her young brothers.
Hence, her parting was effected with very mixed feelings; she did not
know in the least where she really belonged, or under what conditions
she would be happy; she was conscious only of a mild sorrow at having
to take leave of the shelter of years.

Her two companions had no such doubts and regrets; for them the past
was already dead and gone; their talk was all of the future, so soon to
become the present. They forecast this, mapping it out for themselves
with the iron belief in their power to do so, which is the hall-mark of
youth.

Laura, walking at their side, listened to their words with the deepest
interest, and with the reverence she had learned to extend to all
opinions save her own.

M. P. proposed to return to Melbourne at the end of the vacation; for
she was going on to Trinity, where she intended to take one degree
after another. She hesitated only whether it was to be in medicine or
arts.

"Oogh! ... to cut off people's legs!" ejaculated Laura. "M. P., how
awful."

"Oh, one soon gets used to that, child.--But I think, on the whole, I
should prefer to take up teaching. Then I shall probably be able to
have a school of my own some day."

"I shouldn't wonder if you got Sandy's place here," said Laura, who was
assured that M. P.'s massy intellect would open all doors.

"Who knows?" answered Mary, and set her lips in a determined fashion of
her own. "Stranger things have happened."

Cupid, less enamoured of continual discipline, intended to be a writer.
"My cousin says I've got the stuff in me. And