ll read over the syllabus for this
term's study, and draw out a timetable. As we come to each fresh
subject I will show you our books, Etheldreda, and we will see if they
are the same as those which you have been using, and how far you have
progressed. I expect we shall be able to work along together, even if
there is a little space to be gulfed on either side."

"Please!" cried the new pupil earnestly, "don't call me Etheldreda.
Nobody ever does except when I'm in disgrace, and it's so long and
proper. I'm always Dreda at home."

"Dreda, then! It _is_ more get-at-able. Well, now, Dreda, take a pen
and write down our syllabus in this book. I like my pupils to have a
clear idea of the work ahead."

Dreda settled herself complacently to the task, but as she wrote her
face grew ever longer and longer. What subjects were there which she
was supposed to study? Political economy--she had not the vaguest idea
of what it meant! Physiology--that was something horrid about one's
body, which ought properly to be left to nurses and doctors! Zoology--
animals! She knew everything that she wanted to know about animals
already; how to feed and tend them, and make them tame and friendly.
She could not love them half so much if she were obliged to worry
herself learning stupid names half a yard long, which no ordinary human
creature understood! Latin--Algebra--Astronomy. She glanced round the
table and beheld Mary and Agnes and Susan scribbling away with unruffled
composure. No sign of alarm could be traced on their calm, bun-like
countenances, the longest words flowed from their pens as if such a
thing as difficulty in spelling did not exist. Dreda looked for a
moment over Mary's shoulder, and beheld her writing a diphthong without
so much as turning a hair.

A chilly feeling crept up her spine; her heart seemed to stop beating,
then at the next moment thudded violently against her side. She was not
going to be at the top of the class; she was to be at the bottom!
Instead of leading the van, and victoriously trailing the Currant Buns
in her wake, the Currant Buns would have to trail her; and a heavy,
unenlightened load she would be! A stormy prospect lay ahead; straits
of difficulty; seas of depression; oceans of humiliation. Pride, and
pride alone, prevented Dreda from laying down her head on the dingy
brown tablecloth and bursting into tears. Alas, alas! for the happy,
easy days of History, Geography, and Arith