if you might have her
for a room-mate!"

"Yes, I did; but I hadn't seen her then. I thought she'd be so
different."

"Isn't it a little too soon to judge? You haven't known her twenty-four
hours yet."

"I know as much of her as I ever want to. Oh, Miss Bowes, she's
dreadful! I'll never like her. I can't have her in my room--I simply
can't!"

There was a shake, suggestive of tears, in Ulyth's voice. Her eyes
looked heavy, as if she had not slept. Miss Bowes sighed again.

"Rona mayn't be exactly what you imagined, but you must remember in
what different circumstances she has been brought up. I think she has
many good qualities, and that she'll soon improve. Now let us look at
the matter from her point of view. You have been writing to her
constantly for two years. She has come here specially to be near you.
You are her only friend in a new and strange country where she is many
thousand miles away from her own home. You gave her a cordial invitation
to England, and now, because she does not happen to realize your quite
unfounded expectations, you want to back out of all your obligations to
her. I thought you were a girl, Ulyth, who kept her promises."

Ulyth fingered the corner of the tablecloth nervously for a moment, then
she burst out:

"I can't, Miss Bowes, I simply can't. If you knew how she grates upon
me! Oh, it's too much! I'd rather have a bear cub or a monkey for a
room-mate! Please, please don't make us stop together! If you won't move
her, move me! I'd sleep in an attic if I could have it to myself."

"You must stay where you are until the end of the week. You owe that to
Rona, at any rate. Afterwards I shall not force you, but leave it to
your own good feeling. I want you to think over what I have been saying.
You can come on Sunday morning and tell me your decision."

"I know what the answer will be," murmured Ulyth, as she went from the
room.

She was very angry with Miss Bowes, with Rona, and with herself for her
own folly.

"It's ridiculous to expect me to take up this savage," she argued. "And
too bad of Miss Bowes to make out that I'm breaking my word. Oh dear!
what am I to write home to Mother? How can I tell her? I believe I'll
just send her a picture post card, and only say Rona has come, and no
more. Miss Bowes has no right to coerce me. I'll make my own friends.
No, I've quite made up my mind she shan't cram Rona down my throat. To
have that awful girl eternally in my bedroom--I sho