our daily round at Aunt Agatha's.

I got on well with my school-fellows, and I think I was a favourite with
most of my class. I am sure, too, I honestly tried to share in that
"give and take" which is the essence of school-girl conduct.

The one flaw in my happiness was Ernestine Salt. Since the day of my
arrival she had taken a dislike to me, which she seemed to lose no
opportunity of showing. There are many ways in which a girl can make
herself unpleasant without giving any actual cause of complaint, and I
found that I was subjected to a number of petty annoyances, too small
for comment, but which stung all the same. When we met in the
ladies'-chain at dancing, she would squeeze my unfortunate hand till I
almost cried out with the pain; was it her turn to distribute the clubs
at calisthenics, she would take care that I received the one with the
split handle. She would try to leave me out in the games, and scoffed at
my efforts at croquet, rejoicing openly when my opponents won and making
light of my best strokes. If I were unlucky enough to sit next her at
tea-time, she would nudge my elbow as if by accident at the very moment
when I was raising my cup to my lips, and would profess the deepest
concern for the spill which followed. She nicknamed me "Tow-head" in
allusion to my light hair, and had always some clever remark to make at
my expense. I kept out of her way as much as possible, for I was of a
peaceable disposition and disliked quarrelling; but every now and then
some little occasion would arise when I was obliged to stand up for
myself, and a battle would follow, in which, with her sharp tongue and
ruthless witticisms, she generally managed to get the best of it.

As a compensation for this trouble, I had the great delight of my
growing friendship with Catherine Winstanley. She had taken me into her
bedroom on the day after our arrival, and had shown me her various
treasures--the water-colour picture of her home which hung over the
chimney-piece ("painted by my mother", she explained), the photographs
of her family, and snap-shots of various horses, dogs, and other pets
"taken by the boys".

"That's George on Lady. Edward snapped them just as they were leaping
the fence. That's Dick bowling; he looks as if he were scowling
horribly, but it's only the sun in his eyes. That's Edward asleep under
the apple-tree. I took that myself, and he was so indignant when he
found it out he wanted to tear up the photo, bu