after the others, who had already started.

The rain was driving furiously, and the road was full of little
running rivers of yellow mud. The strong wind made Gwen's eyes smart
and water, and she was obliged to hurry to make up for lost time; so
when she arrived at North Ditton she was a breathless, rather pitiful
object, and most decidedly cross. The omnibus was so full that she was
compelled to take Lesbia on her knee and to sit wedged between a very
fat wheezy old farmer and a market gardener, who nursed a parcel of
plants.

"It's rather fun, isn't it?" laughed Lesbia, graciously accepting the
rose that her neighbour offered her. (Somehow people always gave
things to Lesbia.)

"More fun for you than for me!" growled Gwen. "I wish you knew how
heavy you are!"

A bad start does not make a good preparation for the rest of the day,
and Gwen marched into the Fifth Form room that morning in no
conciliatory frame of mind. She was quite prepared to be ill received,
so she thought she would meet possible coldness by showing a defiant
attitude. It was an extremely foolish move, for it brought about the
very state of affairs she anticipated. Several of the nicer girls in
the Form had half repented their wrath of yesterday, and were ready
not only to treat her kindly, but to influence the others in her
favour. When they saw her enter, however, with a "don't care" scowling
air and walk to her desk, without even looking in their direction,
they decided that she was an ill-conditioned, disagreeable girl, and
that they would not trouble their heads about her. Instead, therefore,
of going and speaking to her as they had intended, they let her
severely alone. As a rule, if we go through life expecting slights and
dislike, we get what we look for: the self-made martyr can find stake
and faggots waiting round every corner. Gwen raged inwardly at the
neglect of her classmates, but she did not realize in the least that
it was partly her own fault. She sat all the morning with a
thundercloud on her face, hurrying out of the room at the interval and
eating her lunch alone in a corner of the gymnasium.

"How are you getting on in the Fifth?" whispered Lesbia, who ran up
for a moment to sympathize.

"Badly," groaned Gwen. "They're boycotting me. Of course the Fourth
won't have anything to do with me now; so I'm like Mahomet's coffin,
swung between heaven and earth! It's not pleasant, I assure you."

"I should think not. I wish I coul