rd supply with undiminished
appetite. She had been playing with her usual frantic energy, and was
tired and aching. Her shoulders bent forward as she sat on her chair;
she shut her eyes with a little contraction of the brows; the dimple no
longer showed in her cheek; and when Bertha upset the tray upon the
floor, she started with painful violence. Her nerves were beginning to
give way beneath the strain put upon them; but, instead of being warned,
and easing off in time, she repeated obstinately to herself:--"Three
months more--two and a half--only two!--I can surely keep up for eight
weeks, and then there will be all the holidays for rest!"

It seemed, indeed, looking forward, as if the world were bounded by the
coming examination, and that nothing existed beyond. If she succeeded--
very well, it was finished! Her mind could take in no further thought.
If she failed--clouds and darkness! chaos and destruction! The world
would have come to an end so far as she was concerned.

It filled her with surprise to hear the girls discuss future doings in
their calm, unemotional fashion; but though she could not participate,
the subject never failed to interest. The discussion began again now,
for it was impossible to keep away from the all-engrossing subject, and
the supposition, "If I pass," led naturally to what would come
afterwards.

"If I do well I shall go up to Newnham, and try for the Gilchrist
Scholarship--fifty pounds a year for three years. It's vacant next
year, and I don't see why I shouldn't have it as well as anyone else,"
said Bertha, modestly, and Tom pounded the table with her heels.

"Go in, my beauty, go in and win! I only wish you could wait a few
years until I am there to look after you. I am going to be Principal of
Newnham one of these fine days, and run it on my own lines. No work,
and every comfort--breakfast in bed, and tea in the grounds--nothing to
do but wait upon me and pander to my wishes!"

"I daresay! So like you, Tom! You would be a terror, and work the
girls to death. You are never tired yourself, so you would keep them
going till they dropped. I pity the poor creatures who came under your
rule, but most likely you will never be tried. You may be first
mistress, or second, or third, but it's not likely you'll ever be a
Principal!"

"It's not likely at all, it's positive sure," retorted Tom calmly.
"Principals, like poets, are born not made, and the cause can't afford
to