A Pair of Schoolgirls: A Story of School Days

on's

caused Aunt Barbara to sigh. Full of high ideals, she would dream over stories of courage and fortitude till she could believe herself ready to accomplish the most superhuman tasks and overcome innumerable difficulties. She always hoped that when she was grown up she might have a chance of emulating some of her boo

saw only too clearly that the girl

rusque and pert and uncompromising. I suppose they are struggling after their own individualities and independence, but it makes them ruthless to others. At present Dorothy is rather incl

and sisters, she often believed they did so purposely to make her feel her lack of relations. If two friends whispered together, she would think they were speaking of her; and any small discourtesy, however unintentional, she put down as an indication that the others considered her inferior to themselves. She contrived to make herself thoroughly miserable with these ideas, and the

with jealous eyes, unwilling to share her with anybody else. Alison had been away from school on the day that the truants went to the wedding, and it was nearly a week before she returned. Each morning Do

. It's so dull staying in the house with nothing to do except read, and one gets sick to death of chicken broth

atter of news, and the two chatter

rsals," said Alison. "Can't we all come up t

nce; we mayn't do anything but read. Oh, it's disgusting!

ed Alison; "not if I can

ey were returning in the train that aft

nity Fair is very short. Hope says it won't take as much time as the play you had last year, so I suggested that we sh

bleaux at the Coll. for ages. But we must m

"I can lend them all. We'll get up something worth looking at. Tell me

s on what

al dress that would do fo

en hair, and

ce with the crimson cloak and huge hat and feather. Or there's a Norwegian peasant's-I think the skirt would be long enough-and a Robin Hood jerkin and tall leath

see them," said

gone to Bardsley this afternoon and won't be home till seven, so I shall be quite

s expected to come straight home from school every day, and not to accept any in

asoned. "One must have a little fun sometimes, and I'm getting too old to have to ask leave ab

ouse on the hill which she had so often admired from the carriage windo

be sensible, Dorothy! Here we are. Leave your books and

beautiful drawing-room, and beyond was a conservatory full of flowers. On the landing, which surrounded the hall like a gallery, were marble statues, pictures, and inlaid cabinets; and the floo

s lucky. She's no foundling. I wish I had half her thing

on. She was so accustomed to her surroundings that it never struck her how

is is the Norwegian peasant's-I knew it was on the top. Let me try the skirt by yours. Oh, it is too short aft

ume with appreciation, bu

my waist?" she enquired. "It looks abou

n those days. Try the Cavalier's. Oh, I don't believe you can wear that either! You'r

I'm several sizes too large.

costumes together. Take off your coat and hat and I'll show you. Now, if you have the mediaeval dress on first, we can tuck the bodice inside, and drape the Cavalier's cloak like a pannier to c

asked Dorothy, looking down

fter the picture in the drawing-room. Oh, it is li

pict

Dorothy, you're just the living image of it! Come d

along the landing, the latter much encumbered by her long skirt a

pannier, and the hat's nearly bobbing off. If yo

This way-I have to steer you like a ship. Here's the drawing-room. Now,

, and the big hat suited her admirably; the excitement and fun had brought unwonted roses to her cheeks, and her eyes were as bright a

ight from yourself to the

he graceful turn of the neck; the slender hands held a lute, and the lips looked as if they had just closed after finishing the last refrain of a song. Whether it was the effect of the costume or not, there certainly

om you. Bruce!" (to a servant who was crossing the hall) "Bruce, come here! I want yo

ively from the painted

uppose it's the dress, and the way her hair's done. Miss Aliso

Yes, you must! You don't know how I hate being alone, and Mother won't

all miss

guide please. Oh, thanks! Now then, Coleminster to Hurford-where are we? Latchworth-yes,

t Barbara would be getting rather anxious, but her mind would soon be set at rest af

at the Sèvres clock that stood on a bracket. "I

your costume and come to the library. Oh, never mind foldi

rothy, with its bookcases, filled with beautifully-bound volumes; its big lacq

?" she asked, gazing round with inte

Uncle David is at Delhi still, only perhaps he's coming

in the

t they weren't the least scrap alike-Aunt Madeleine was dark, and Mother is so very fair. Wasn't it

agreed

a listener. "I've all sorts of little scented boxes and things carved in ivory. I simply must show some of the

of cake, filigree ornaments, bla

like you to have tasted it; it came from Kashmir. Look here, I want to give you one of these boxes; yes, you must take it! I've

have bestowed far more of her treasures if she had thought there was a likelihood of their being accepted. She had enough delicacy and t

I'm going to ask Mother to ask you. We'd have such a jubilee! Can you play poker patience? Oh, I love it too! And I've the sweetest wee packs of ca

ed Dorothy. "Look at the time! Why, I

running, because Mother says I mustn't-it makes me cough. Where are your hat and c

it's been so jolly to come and see you, Alison! I have enjoyed it. Just hold my coat-thanks. I'm putting on my hat wrong

e dearly loved young companions, and the beautiful house and its many treasures seemed dull without a congenial soul of her own age with whom

on those costumes. She put on the mediaeval one, and the Cavalier's cloak and hat, and the Nor

mes made quite a good copy of the Ve

ver saw anything so funny, Mother! She was the absolute image of

ter your fat

she does either. She's never seen her father or mother. She

is

when she was a baby-there was a dreadful railway accident at a place called Greenfield, and that's why she's called Dorothy Greenfield-but it isn't her proper name, because they don't know that-they never found out who she was-and Miss Sherbourne adopted her, and Dorothy always calls her A

s amazing story, Birdie

er face, because she gets into such tantrums. I think it makes her so interesting. She may be the daughter of a nobleman, for what anyone knows.

, with a distinct tone of annoyance in her voice. "You mu

I knew what dresses would fit Dorothy. I simply had to get her to come and try them on. And it was such fun having her to tea. May

think of such a thing," rep

nice girl she looked that first day we saw her in the train, a

ite a differ

y that I meant to ask you to invite her, and if you don't I shall fee

rs. Clarke, who looked more displeased than her daughter remembered ever having see

her if she came

uaintance. No, Birdie, it is impossible. I absolutely

to Alison's, and the spoilt child could hardly realize that she was not to

You don't know what chums we are at school. If you on

rongly discourage this acquaintance, and you must not be more friendly with Do

possibly give? It would seem so pecul

than you can help. It is very annoying that she goes by the same train. In such a large school as

Alison, beginning to cry. "If you'd

r all, that I will not have this girl at the house. No, I shall not explain; it

ave any reasonable request refused-and she considered this one to be most reasonable. In matters of health she was accustomed to obey, to submit to be wrapped up in shawls, to put on galoshes, to be kept in bed and dosed and dieted; but where her health was not concerned

son. "Oh, dear! What am I to do? Dorot