think of Kathleen as well as the school,
and she's gone to a fearful lot of expense. You could not by any
possibility forsake her, could you?"

"No, of course not," said Ruth very slowly.

She bade Susy good-bye and walked on; her attitude was that of one who
was thinking hard.

"Ruth is very pretty," said Susy to herself, "but I don't know that I
quite admire her. She is the sort of girl that everybody loves, and I am
not one to admire a universal favorite. She is frightfully, tiresomely
good, and she's just _too_ pretty; and she's not a bit vain, and she's
not a bit puffed up. Oh, she is just right in every way, and yet I feel
that I hate her. She has got the sort of conscience that will worry our
queen to distraction. Still, once she joins she'll have to obey our
rules, and I expect our queen will make them somewhat stringent."

A clock from a neighboring church struck the half-hour. Susy looked up,
uttered an exclamation, put wings to her feet, and ran the rest of the
way home. Susy's home was in the High Street of the little town of
Merrifield. Her mother kept a fairly flourishing stationer's shop, in
one part of which was a post-office. Some ladies were buying stamps as
Susy dashed through the shop on her way to the family rooms at the back.
Mrs. Hopkins was selling stationery to a couple of boys; she looked up
as her daughter entered. Susy went into the parlor, where tea was laid
on the table. It consisted of a stale loaf, some indifferent butter, and
a little jam. The tea, in a pewter teapot, was weak; the milk was
sky-blue, and the jug that held it was cracked.

Susy poured out a cup of tea, drank it off at a gulp, snatched a piece
of bread-and-butter from the plate, and sat down to prepare her lessons
at another table. She had two hours' hard work before her, and it was
already nearly six o'clock. The quarry was a little distance away, and
she must tidy herself and do all sorts of things. Just then her mother
came in.

"Oh, Susy," she said, "I am so glad you have come! I want you to attend
to the shop for the next hour. I am sent for in a hurry to my sister's;
she has a bad cold, and wants me to call in. I think little Peter is not
well; your aunt is afraid he is catching measles. Run into the shop the
moment you have finished your tea, like a good child. You can take one
of your lesson-books with you if you like. There won't be many customers
at this hour."

"Oh, mother, I did really want to work har