o have no idea to discuss. She was fifty times more at home
with cut-and-dried figures about the correctness of which there could be
no two opinions, whereas Etheldreda the Ready was invariably in the
front rank for compositions. The two girls were indeed made "on
different lines," and at that moment Mary was not unnaturally provoked
to be confronted by a task in which Dreda was undoubtedly her superior.

Dreda was laboriously amiable to her opponent for some days after this
"heart to heart" talk, but the endeavour to pour coals of fire was so
obvious as to be more irritating than soothing, and Mary had no wish to
reopen the discussion. "I've warned her--she must go her own way now.
_My_ conscience is clear," she told herself stoically, and Dreda went
her own way--danced gaily along it, so to speak, and had no thought of
danger. She had become accustomed to school routine by this time, and,
like most girls, found interest and enjoyment in the full busy life and
in the companionship of her kind. She was a favourite with both
teachers and scholars, and Susan's quiet devotion could always be
counted upon in those moments of need which seemed to be inevitable
occurrences in her life. Dreda forgot, and Susan reminded; Dreda
procrastinated, and Susan hastened to the rescue; Dreda grew discouraged
and Susan cheered; Dreda failed, and Susan succoured; yet with such
diffidence were these services performed that self-love felt never a
wound, and Dreda was left with the agreeable sense of having conferred,
rather than accepted, favours.

"You turn yourself into a nigger slave for Dreda Saxon," grumbled Norah
of the spectacles one day when she and Susan walked together in the
"crocodile" along a dull country lane. "A regular black, cringing
slave--and what thanks do you get for it, I'd like to know? None! Not
one little scrap. She's such a bat of self-conceit that she doesn't
even know that she _is_ helped. If you did a hundredth part as much for
other people they'd go off their heads for joy!"

The spectacled eyes rolled wistfully Susan-wards as the last words were
spoken, for Norah cherished a schoolgirl's sentimental devotion for her
companion, and could not overcome her chagrin at being so completely
eclipsed by a new girl--a girl, moreover, who had given to her the
undignified nickname of "Gig-lamps," which had been instantly adopted by
the whole school. She gazed at Susan as humbly as a dog begging a
favour from