"Well, of course, it may be exaggerated," replied Hester Temple; "and I, for my part, have no opinion at all of that mean little Matilda Matthews; still my feeling is, that there is never smoke without fire, and—— Why, what is the matter, Kate?"

"Don't say another word!" answered Kate. "I am in a temper, and you are making it much worse. I took such an awful fancy to Molly; but if she is that sort,—if she really pretends to be your friend, and abuses you behind your back,—why, I shall have nothing more to do with her."

"You won't require to have much more to do with her," replied Hester. "You know, don't you, that her great friend, Miss Ross, is coming this afternoon? I saw Molly with a wild gleam of excitement in her eyes this morning, and when I asked her if she were threatened with softening of the brain, she replied: 'She's coming; she's really coming to-night!' and then went off, singing to herself in quite an idiotic style. You will have to give up your snug little corner in her room, chÉrie. I wonder where you'll go now."

"As if that mattered!" replied Kate. "Do you think that sort of thing troubles me?"

"Why, Kate, I thought it did, quite awfully. You are the girl who has made all the fuss about the Dwellers in Cubicles. You invented the odious phrase, and now it's running like wildfire all over the place. What do you mean by not caring? Of course you care."

"Yes, of course, I care," answered Kate, in a meditative voice. "Molly was a dear little thing; at least I thought her a dear little thing. You really can't think how unselfish she was. She gave me two drawers in her writing table for my exercises and translations; and she used to sit bundled up near the window, while I occupied the place of honor by her table. She said in such a pretty way: 'You know, Kate, I'm not working for a scholarship, and you are. I am only having an all-round sort of time, and I can work up my notes quite well here, so do have the table. I wish so much you would.' Of course I took the little thing at her word, for she has a wonderfully honest, downright sort of expression."

"It's hopeless to go by that sort of thing in life," replied Hester, in a gloomy voice.

"So it seems; but I hate learning the wickedness of the world. Look here! I don't believe that story of yours."

"You needn't, my dear; I'm half sorry I told you."

"The best thing would be to clear it up," continued Kate, in a thoughtful voice. "I could go straight to Molly and get her to confront Matilda, and find out the truth. That girl ought to be well shamed; she's a disgrace to the school. If Miss Forester knew her real character, she'd expel her; I'm sure she would."

"She's a hateful girl," responded Hester; "and the worst of it is, she's certain to come here at the half term. She's not really stupid, you know, and she has been working herself up, for she's quite mad to get admitted to St. Dorothy's."

"The place won't be worth living in when she comes," replied Kate. "There, don't keep me now, Hester; if that divinity of Molly's is really coming to-night, I must take my things out of her room, and if she is the sort of girl you describe her, I'd rather do so when she's not there."

"Then you won't clear the thing up?" said Hester, in a somewhat anxious tone.

"Not to-night, anyway; I'll sleep on it. The fact is, I've a frightful lot of work to get through before I can close my eyes in natural sleep."

"Poor old thing!" replied Hester; "I wish I could give you a corner of my room, but I can't manage two chums, and the Denbigh girls never give me a moment to myself."

Hester nodded and walked away, and Kate went slowly upstairs. There was a slight frown between her dark brows. She pushed her frizzy, wild Irish hair back from her forehead. Her rosy lips wore firmly set. She approached Molly's door and knocked; her knock had a decidedly aggressive sound. There was no one inside to listen to it, and she presently opened the door and went in. She had just unlocked her own private drawer in Molly's writing-table, and removed her exercise books and translations, when Molly herself quickly entered the room.

"Oh, is that you, Kate?" she exclaimed; "dear old Kate, I am so dreadfully sorry on your account."

"Oh, don't mention it, pray," answered Kate, in a cold voice. "I always knew that I was only here on sufferance."

"Well, I can't help being glad about Cecil," answered Molly. "I'd like so much to tell you something of Cecil's story. If you knew what she is, and what she has to do, you could not help taking an interest in her. Do come over to the sofa and let us have a chat, won't you?"

"No, thanks; I'm a great deal too busy."

Kate kept her eyes lowered. She would not permit herself to glance at Molly, whose caressing tone was softening her in spite of herself. Had she yielded to her better nature, she would have rushed up to her friend, repeated Matilda Matthews' cruel and unkind words, and much after-trouble and misery would have been averted. But Kate, notwithstanding her brightness and good-nature, had a strong vein of obstinacy in her character. She was very affectionate, but she had also a great deal of pride, and that pride was cut to the quick by the words which Hester had repeated to her.

"I can't stay now, thanks," she went on; "I have to work up my notes of the lectures I heard this morning, and have not a minute to spare."

"But Kate, Kate, dear!" cried Molly.

Kate had now approached the door; she turned on hearing Molly's voice.

"Yes, what is it?" she exclaimed; "I wish you wouldn't keep me!"

"I won't more than a minute or two. Perhaps you don't know that Cecil Ross has got the cubicle next to you in dormitory A."

"Has she? I'm afraid that does not affect me particularly."

"Oh, but I thought—I hoped—— Kate, what is the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Then you will be good to her, won't you, Kate? She's never been at a big school of this kind before."

"She must take her chance," replied Kate. "It strikes me she won't be so badly off with you to be her champion."

"Of course, I'll be her champion," replied Molly, her face turning crimson, for she began to be really angry at last.

"Then if you're so afraid for the comfort of the precious thing, why don't you give up your room, and sleep in the cubicle next me in dormitory A? My manners may not be refined, and I may not be a real lady, and my poverty may make it essential for you to be kind to me; nevertheless——"

"Kate, Kate, I won't stand this!" cried the astonished Molly. "What in the wide world do you mean? You speak and look as if you were angry about something; you speak and look as if you were angry with me—with me, who love you so! What is it? You must and shall tell me."

But Kate O'Connor's only reply was to slam the door of Molly's room with violence, and rush away up to her own dormitory.

There she flung her exercise books and translations on her little dressing-table, threw herself down upon her bed, and burst into floods of bitter weeping.

"Oh, she can't have said it!" she groaned to herself; "she looked so sweet, and she seemed so astonished when I threw those taunting words at her. And yet—and yet, no one else knows; I have never confided my real story to anyone but Molly Lavender. Matilda is a wretch, but she could not have invented all this. Yes, there must be some truth in it; and if Molly is that sort of girl, I will never, never, have anything more to do with her. All the same, I'm miserable, for I was beginning to love her as I have loved no one else since I left dear old Ireland. Oh, dear, dear, if I were only back in the old time! Think of home in the summer, the cows, Cusha, Bess, Star, Whiteface; don't I see them now walking slowly up the valley with the evening sun behind them, and their dear old tails switching, and grandfather standing by the hedge at the corner of the lane, and crying 'Kate, Kate, come along and watch the milking!' Oh, yes! I was happy in those days; I had no ambition then, only to be the fleetest runner, and the best swimmer, and the best rider of any girl in the country round. Oh, for a gallop now on Black Beauty's back! oh, for a sniff of the mountain air! oh, for a taste of the buttermilk and scones at supper time by grandfather's side! Well, it's all over; he's in his grave, and the cows are sold, and so is the old house, and the place belongs to strangers, and there was just enough money left to educate Kate O'Connor, and turn her into a fine lady.

"A fine lady! How I hate the term! I declare I think I'll go to-morrow and tell every single girl in this house all about myself. How once I ran about barefooted, and how I used to know a great deal more about making butter than about Greek and Latin, and how my one gift was, just that I could sing like a bird, and whistle so well that the little wild birds themselves would come out of the hedges and cock their bright eyes at me, and whistle, too, when I lured them long enough. I'd like to tell them all—all those conceited girls—that I'm not ashamed of the old days, and that I'd rather be back in them than be the very grandest of them all. Oh, Molly, I did think you were faithful to me! I remember your face when I told you something of the old life; how soft your eyes grew, and you held my hand and pressed it a little, and then you said you wished you could write a poem about it. But you are a traitor, Molly Lavender, and you told! You must have told, for no one else knows. Granted even that you didn't say the horrid things which Matilda Matthews accuses you of saying, you are a traitor, and I'll never be your friend again as long as I live."

"Kate," called a voice near her ear from the other side of her dormitory, "did you not hear the supper gong?"

"No, bless you! has it rung?" called Kate, springing to her feet.

She hastily smoothed and tidied her hair, put on a white blouse, and ran downstairs, looking handsomer and more dÉbonnaire than ever, because her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes all the brighter on account of the tears she had shed.

Kate O'Connor's table was the most popular in the dining-hall. Since Molly's arrival at St. Dorothy's, her place had been at Kate's left hand. By Molly's side now, on this occasion, sat a slim girl in black. Kate noticed her the very instant she entered the room.

"Behold the divinity!" she said, under her breath.

She sat down in her accustomed place by the tea-tray, and studiously avoided Molly's brown eyes.

"Kate!" whispered Molly, in an anxious tone.

"What is it, Molly Lavender?" replied Kate, with some irritation. "Oh, I'll attend to you presently."

"I want to introduce you to Cecil Ross. Cecil, this is my friend, Kate O'Connor."

Kate raised her eyes, and encountered for the first time Cecil's grave, full glance. She found herself coloring high. Instead of her usual frank and hearty rejoinder, she now gave a somewhat stiff bow, and immediately turned her attention to the requirements of the tea-table.

Molly went on talking to Cecil. As she did so, she smothered a faint sigh. All day long she had been looking forward to the evening. When she had awakened that morning she said to herself that the happiest day of her life had dawned. Cecil had arrived at last. Cecil was by her side, but Molly felt uncomfortable, hurt, and astounded. What was the matter with Kate? Molly's quick eyes had taken in the traces of recent tears on Kate's fair face. Was it possible that anyone so frank, so good, so noble, could stoop to so mean a thing as jealousy? Was it really possible that Kate was jealous, and of Cecil, Molly's oldest, lifelong friend?

"If she would only listen to me," thought Molly to herself, "I would tell her Cecil's story. She could not but love her, if she knew all that Cecil has had to undergo; if she knew how brave and dear Cecil really is. I did so hope that Kate and Cecil would be great friends, and now Kate is going to be really horrid. What can it possibly mean?"

The supper that evening was, therefore, at Kate's table, a constrained and unhappy affair. Molly was too anxious to be at her best. Cecil was feeling shy and lonely. She was very glad to be at St. Dorothy's, and delighted to find herself by Molly's side; but her thoughts were back with the boys. She was missing Jimmy's fun and nonsense; her heart was aching for Maurice, with his thoughtful face and dear, manly ways. She was wondering if the boys were as lonely as she felt, and almost regretting that she had taken the great step which was now irrevocably accomplished.

"You are tired, Cecil," said Molly, glancing at her friend.

"My head aches a little," she replied, in a low tone. "Do you think I may go to bed after supper, Molly?"

"Of course you may. We'll ask Miss Leicester, and I'll come up with you to your cubicle and help you to unpack."

"Will you? That will be very nice."

Molly and Cecil had a long talk in the little cubicle in dormitory A. Kate, who came upstairs presently, heard them whispering together through the wooden partition. Twenty-four hours ago she would have joined them, and in two minutes, by the quick infection of her own high spirits, have caused all Cecil's heartaches to vanish, and Molly to be the happiest girl in the world. Now she sat down moodily on a chair in front of her little dressing-table, and began to work up her lecture notes. But the task was so uncongenial that she soon stopped. The soft voices in the dormitory next her own kept on their low talk. She could not hear a word they said, but the noise irritated her. No one could be more passionate than poor Kate when she chose. To-night all the worst side of her character was in the ascendant. She felt as if she almost hated Molly and her friend. She moved softly about her cubicle, afraid that the two girls might hear her. Soft as her movements were, Molly detected them. She called out a little timidly for her.

"Is that you, Kate?"

"Yes; what do you want?" replied Kate. "I am very busy."

"I hope we're not disturbing you," answered Molly. "My room is quite at your disposal this evening; there is no one there."

"Thanks! I prefer to remain where I am," answered Kate.

Molly's sigh was so profound at this reply that it could almost be heard through the wooden partition. She bade Cecil "good-night," and a few moments later went downstairs to her own room. Kate heard Cecil then moving very quietly about in her cubicle. All her instincts of chivalry and hospitality urged her to go to the strange girl in order to offer her services, or at least to assure her of her friendship and sympathy.

"She has a nice face," thought Kate to herself. "Nice! it's more than nice. What a splendid forehead she has! and her eyes have a keen, strong look in them! Then, how clever her mouth is; so firm, and proud, and self-reliant. I don't wonder Molly likes her. Yes, she has heaps of character. I expect she'll take the lead of us all. She is the sort of girl I ought to hold out the right hand of fellowship to, and I can't—I can't, because she is Molly's friend, and Molly is a traitor. There, my lectures must go to Hong-Kong to-night; I don't care if I do get into a row to-morrow. Is life worth living, after all? What is the use of anything when there's no constancy and no honor in the world? Who would have thought that Molly, of all people, was a traitor?"

The other girls came up into the dormitory. Julia Hinkson, whose cubicle was at Kate's left side, knocked on the wall, and made other tokens of her affectionate presence.

"You can't come in to-night," called Kate, "I have a headache, and wish to go to bed."

"Oh, what a bother! I had a lot to tell you," exclaimed Julia.

"I wonder if she has heard it, too," thought Kate to herself.

She made no reply to Julia, but got quickly into bed. After a long time, she fell asleep.