ignorance, and sees another poor dear running her head against the wall,
one is sorry, that's all, and one longs to point out the danger signals.
Find out, dear, what your motive is, and be satisfied that it's a good
one. Meantime, I'm going to take away these papers. Do you see?
Every--single--one!" She walked round the room, confiscating the lists,
and putting them in her pocket with an air of good-natured
determination. "Let that tired head rest, and believe me, my dear, that
your elders understand almost as much about girls as you do yourself.
We are never blamed for under-working at Hurst, and you may take for
granted that the hours for work are as long as you can stand. The short
time spent in your cubicle is not intended for work, but for rest--of
all kinds!"

Rhoda blushed guiltily. During the first days at school the morning
hymn had been both a delight and stimulus. She had listened to the
words with a beating heart, and whispered them to herself in devout
echo; they had seemed to strike a keynote for the day, and send her to
work full of courage; but, alas! for weeks past the strains had fallen
on deaf ears, and the lips had been too busy conning Latin substantives
to have leisure for other repetition. Her sense of guilt made her meek
under the confiscation of her lists, and pathetically grateful for the
kiss of farewell.

"Thank you for coming. I know you are busy, but I wanted you so! It's
nice to see you; you look so sweet and pretty!"

"Oh, you flatterer! I'm surprised at you. As if it matters what a
staid old teacher looked like; I'm above such silly vanities, my dear."

She looked, however, extremely pleased, quite brisked up in fact, and so
delightfully like a girl that Rhoda took heart of grace, and enquired:--

"I wish you would tell me _your_ object! That wouldn't be preaching,
and you are so young to be working so hard! I have often wondered--"

"Ah!" cried Miss Everett, and a curious look passed over her face--half
glad, half sad, wholly proud. "I'll tell you my object, Rhoda--it's my
brother, Lionel! I have an only brother, and he is a genius. You
remember his name, and when you are an old lady in a cap and mittens you
can amuse other old ladies by telling how you once knew his sister, and
she prophesied his greatness. At school he carried all before him, and
he is as good as he is clever, and as merry as he is good. He won a
scholarship at Oxford, but that was not enough.