"I feel a little nervous, of course," answered Cecil; "but I long to know Miss Forester. From all I have heard of her, she must be a wonderful woman."

"Miss Forester is about the cleverest woman in the north of England," answered Kate, with a little ring of her old enthusiasm in her voice.

"Oh, Kate, how good you were to me my first day at school!" exclaimed Molly.

Kate looked at her fixedly, and her brows darkened.

"Of course; it is one's duty to be kind to strangers," she said, in a careless tone. "Your friend, Miss Ross, will have no trouble at all, Molly, for you'll take her under your wing, and everyone knows that you are a prime favorite with Miss Forester."

"Why do you call Cecil Miss Ross?" said Molly; "and why——"

She stopped abruptly. Her frank but troubled eyes asked whole volumes of questions, but her lips were silent. Kate felt touched in spite of herself.

"The right thing would be to go straight to Molly and tell her everything," whispered conscience in her breast.

But she would not listen to it.

"If Molly is mean enough to repeat my greatest confidences, she may go," thought the proud girl. "She is all right now; she has got her dearest friend. She does not want me any longer. Catch me ever telling her anything private again. Of course she told, for no one else knows. Matilda could not have invented the story. Yes, Julia, what is it?"

"Can I see you for a moment after prayers, Kate?" asked Julia Hinkson.

"If you have anything important to say. I never looked at my notes last night, and want to work them up a little before lecture."

"I won't keep you five minutes; I—— The fact is, there is something you ought to know."

"Very well; I will speak to you in the hall," answered Kate.

The girls had now to go into the dining room for prayers. This short service over, Molly hurried her friend upstairs, and Kate and Julia found themselves alone in the entrance hall.

"Now, out with it, Julia, for I am in an awful hurry," said Kate.

"It's only fair you should know," said Julia. "You've been so kind to Molly Lavender."

"Oh, dear, dear,"—Kate put her hand to her forehead,—"why will people harp on my kindness to poor Molly? It strikes me that she has been the kind one to me. Now, what have you got to say, Julia?"

"Only that if I were you," said Julia, "I would not repeat things too much to a girl of that sort."

"What do you mean?"

Kate's face became crimson.

"Dear me, Kate, how mad you look!" exclaimed Julia. "I don't think I'll say any more. You can take a hint, can't you?"

"No, I can't! I hate hints," answered Kate. "Out with the whole thing this minute, Julia. What have you to say against Molly? What confidence has she betrayed?"

"Matilda is the one who told me. Matilda is making the greatest use of it: she's telling everybody all over the school."

Kate's brow was now as black as thunder.

"Oh, Kate, Kate, don't look so awful! you terrify me, you really do."

"What has she been saying?" asked Kate. She clutched Julia by her shoulder as she spoke.

Julia was rather a coward, and she shrank when she found herself in Kate's firm grip.

"Tell me at once what Matilda has been saying about me?" she asked.

"Oh, Kate, you do frighten me so awfully!"

"All right; come along this minute to Molly Lavender's room; perhaps she'll explain if you won't."

"Oh, I'll tell, if you don't look so frightful, and if—if you'll promise not to betray me."

"Of course I won't betray you, you little coward; I am not that sort. Now, then, out with it!"

"Well, then, Kate—— Oh, dear, dear, how your eyes do flash! Of course I don't believe it, Kate, not for a minute. Matilda says that Molly told her. Kate, I wish you wouldn't pinch me so. Molly told her that—that you are not—of course you are—but Molly told Matilda that you are not a lady; you used to be a dairymaid, and you didn't wear shoes and stockings, and you are awfully poor. Oh, Kate, of course it's a lie! but she says that you are here on charity."

"That will do," said Kate; "you have said quite enough. Now, of course, I'm not going to betray you. Get along with you, and keep it dark that you told me a word of all this."

"But you don't suppose I believe it, Kate, dear. You will give me leave to contradict it, won't you? They are all talking about it."

"Let them talk," said Kate.

"But I may contradict it, may I not?"

"No!"

"Then it is——"

"It is nothing; you may not contradict it; it is not your affair. Go now, and keep your own counsel. Be off, and leave me alone."

As Kate uttered these last words, she gave Julia a little push. Julia was only too glad to leave the angry girl to herself.

Matilda Matthews was having a very good time in one of the tennis courts that afternoon. The tennis season was nearly over; the weather was getting even more than autumnal. Matilda was by no means an active girl; she disliked games almost as much as she disliked study. She was not a favorite in the ordinary sense of the word. Nevertheless, girls like Matilda can exercise a considerable influence over certain orders of mind. Matilda was the acknowledged scandalmonger of the school. Her tidbits of information, although, as a rule, by no means savory, were often highly seasoned. She had the reputation of setting more girls by the ears, of destroying more friendships, than anyone else in the place. Still it was thought best by the prudent members of the school to keep on Matilda's right side. Her friendship was not really valued, but it was considered safer than her enmity.

From the first day of her arrival, Matilda had taken a violent dislike to Molly Lavender. Molly had snubbed her, and Matilda could not stand being snubbed. She looked out, therefore, for a means of revenge, and an opportunity arose all too quickly. Matilda was the sort of girl who could sneak and spy. She had almost a genius for this sort of dirty work. Her ugly little person was constantly seen where no one expected to find her. She cultivated her talents with assiduity, for by these means she acquired power over her fellow-students. On a certain occasion, about a week ago, Kate and Molly had taken a long walk together. On their return home they had entered the extensive recreation grounds which belonged alike to all the houses of residence. They were both tired, and walking across the wide field, had entered the little summerhouse where the cricket bats, tennis bats, and other implements of sport were kept. They sat down together, and began to talk.

It was on this occasion that Kate had been drawn out to speak of her early home. It was then that she had first mentioned her old grandfather, the summer evenings, the cows and horses, and all the precious things of her vanished childhood. She had spoken with feeling, and Molly had given her a whole world of sympathy. Neither of the girls knew that Matilda, who happened to be alone in this part of the grounds, had crept to the back of the summerhouse, and deliberately listened to their conversation.

The summerhouse was built of wood; there was a hole in a certain notch, and to this hole Matilda applied her rosy ear. She heard everything, and metaphorically clapped her hands with delight. Now, indeed, she was possessed of a dangerous weapon. It was within her power to sever a friendship which she detested, and to humble proud Kate O'Connor in the eyes of all her companions. Matilda was too clever not to go warily to work. It would never do for the girls of the school to find out that she had gained her information by eavesdropping; she must draw Molly out to drop a hint or two with regard to Kate. By the aid of this hint, and her own perfect knowledge, Matilda could soon set a ball of gossip and ill-will rolling through the place.

The next day, at lecture, she tried to make herself agreeable to Molly. She was generally so spiteful that the change in her conduct could not but be hailed with relief.

"How splendidly you are getting on!" said Matilda, when the lecture had come to an end. "I did not think you would at first, but now I see that you are very clever."

"That is not the case," answered Molly, in her blunt way. "I have simply got the most average abilities; but the fact is, a girl must be very stupid who does not improve in the atmosphere of such a place as this."

"You talk like a book," said Matilda. "Well, there is one thing I do envy you."

"What is that?" asked Molly.

"Your friendship with Kate O'Connor."

"Do you?" replied Molly. "I am glad you can appreciate her; there is not a girl in the school like her."

"I will tell you what I think about her," said Matilda slowly. She avoided Molly's eyes as she spoke. "She is so completely out of the common that she must have had quite an uncommon life. I should not be a bit surprised if she were one of those brave girls who have known poverty, and have risen above it. I should call her, if I were asked, one of nature's ladies. After all, nature does make noble, queen-like sort of women now and then, whatever their position in life. Is that not true, Molly Lavender?"

"Yes, it is perfectly true," answered Molly, wondering at Matilda's discernment. "There is no one in the school I respect like Kate."

"Do you think I have gauged her character correctly?" asked Matilda, in her softest tones.

"You have, Matilda, quite wonderfully."

"She is one of nature's ladies, is she not?"

"Indeed she is."

"She has known poverty, and has risen above it?"

"Yes, she has had a noble life," answered Molly. "I am so glad you appreciate her."

"I long for her friendship," said Matilda, with a sigh; "but alas! it is not for me; she would despise a girl of my sort."

"Not if you lived up to her," said Molly, turning round and gazing full at Matilda's low-class face.

Something in the expression of the bad girl's eyes caused Molly to recoil and draw into her shell. But she had said quite enough for Matilda's purpose, and the scandal which was to wreck a beautiful friendship began to circulate through the school on that very afternoon.