,
and it is _your_ fault! Norah is dead, and it is you who have killed
her!"

She crawled forward on hands and knees, and peered fearfully at the
still face. The spectacles had fallen off Norah's nose. The freckles
looked browner than ever against the pallor of the skin. Her face
looked pinched and wan, but she was not dead: the breath came faintly
from between the parted lips, the cheeks were warm to the touch. Dreda
gave a great sigh of relief, and seating herself in the middle of the
road, lifted Norah's head with her strong young arms until it lay
pillowed on her knee. She searched for her handkerchief, wiped the dust
from the unconscious face, and stroked back the heavy hair, crooning
over her the while in tones of fondest affection.

"Norah! Norah dear! Norah, wake up! I'm here. Dreda's with you,
dear!"

Hitherto Dreda had felt no affection for Norah West; there had been
little sympathy between them, and the rivalry for Susan's favour had
been a constant cause of friction; but at this moment it seemed the most
important thing in life that Norah should open her eyes and speak once
more.

In the silent tension of those waiting moments Dreda had a flash of rare
insight into the feelings of another. Poor old Norah! She had been
snappy at times, but what wonder! It must have been hateful to have a
new girl come to school and become the chosen chum of the girl you
wanted for yourself; to see her take the lead, while you remained in
your insignificant corner. Norah was neither pretty, clever, nor
amusing; she was not popular in the school; but, indeed, she had never
striven after popularity. The one thing she had desired above all
others was Susan's friendship, and that she had failed to gain. Dreda
had been accustomed to jeer at the limitations of others; but now, for
the first time in her life, she felt a pang of whole-hearted sympathy
towards the girl who was so much less fortunate than herself. "It's no
credit to me that I'm pretty, but I should have hated to be plain. It
would have warped my disposition to look in the glass every day and see
nothing but freckles and glittering gold specs. Perhaps it warped
Norah's. I ought to have been sorry, instead of proud and superior.
And I'm not clever, either--I thought I was--and it was dreadful finding
out. I expect she hated it, too. Norah! Oh, Norah, I have behaved
like a blind, self-satisfied bat. If you go and die now I shall be
miserable a