er, the girls were left alone in the
library with their beloved "one thousand and seventy-four" books. From
over the edge of "Vanity Fair" Robin watched anxiously the preoccupation
and shadow on Beryl's face.

(Oh, why _had_ she changed that inside-out stocking!)

"Beryl, what is the matter?"

"Nothing."

"There _is_. You won't read or talk or--anything."

"Well, I don't feel like it."

"What _do_ you feel like--inside?" persisted Robin.

"Like--nothing. _Just_ like it."

"Beryl, are you discouraged about--your music?"

Robin put her finger so accurately upon the sore spot that Beryl winced.
Robin added: "You ought not to be--you're wonderful!"

"I'm _not_. You think so 'cause you don't know! I can't get something I
used to have. I had it when I played on Christmas night and oh, I felt
as though I'd always have it--it just tingled in my fingers and made my
heart almost burst and then--it went away. I can't rouse it now. I don't
even know--what made it come--inside me. But I do know that I'm as far
away from--what I want, really working and getting ahead--as I ever was.
_Further_, way off here. At least when I was in New York I had dear old
Jacques Henri to help me!"

Robin's book tumbled to the floor. She had an odd feeling as though
Beryl--the first girl friend she had ever had--might be slipping away
from her. "You want to go back to New York?" she asked stupidly.

"Of course, silly. There isn't anything, here."

"Then you ought to go. Beryl, you _must_ go. I'm going to give you the
rest of the money--what I saved from the Queen's Christmas gift
and--and--my allowance. Oh, please, Beryl, _don't_ look like that!"

"Thanks!" Beryl's voice rang cold. "But I'm not reduced to charity, yet.
Of course I've been kidding myself that I earn all the money you pay me
for living here--with a few clothes thrown in. Don't think I don't know
what those horrid creatures at the Mills say about me being proud and
too stuck-up to work like Dale and the others. They even taunt Dale. I
hate myself when I think of it. And all I'm earning wouldn't keep me
very long--if I ever did go to study. Oh, I just hate--_hate_--_hate_
being poor!" Her voice broke in a great sob.

Robin wanted to throw her arms about her and comfort her but she was
afraid for Beryl looked like a different being. And, while she
hesitated, Beryl flung herself out of the room.

Robin stared into the fire, little lines of worry and perplexity
wrinkling h