"Oh, and you're to go to her at break, this morning. Don't go and forget, and then say I didn't tell you." And she turned to greet the entering mistress with a flood of Anglo-French.

Louise had three parts of an hour in which to a.s.similate the message.

How unlucky she was! She remembered the previous morning as one remembers a nightmare.... Miss Durand had certainly drifted through its dreadfulness--but of what she had said or done, Louise remembered nothing. But it was certain that she had managed to annoy Miss Hartill more than ever. To miss a special rehearsal! Now she was to go to her, and Miss Hartill would be so angry already, that when the question of the papers arose, the last chance of her leniency was gone.... For, of course, she would speak of the examination.... What would she say? Her imagination stubbed; it could not pierce the terror of what Miss Hartill would say.

The break was half over before she had wrenched herself out of her desk, along the length of the school, and up the staircase to Clare's little sanctum.

She knocked timidly. Clare's answering bell, that invariably startled her, rang sharply. She hesitated--the bell rang again, a prolonged, shrill peal. She pulled herself together, opened the door, and went in.

The floor was littered with gay costumes. Miss Durand, in a big ap.r.o.n, laughter-flushed, with her pretty hair tumbling down her back, was sorting them into neat heaps.

Clare, at ease in a big arm-chair, directing operations, while her quick fingers cut and pasted at a tinsel crown, was laughing also.

"How happy they look," thought Louise.

Clare glanced up.

"Well, Louise," she said, not unkindly.

Louise stammered a little.

"Miss Hartill--I'm very sorry--I'm most awfully sorry. They said--the girls said--there was rehearsal yesterday, and you wanted me. I honestly didn't know. I've only just heard there was one."

Clare kept her waiting while she clipped at the indentations of the crown. The scissors clicked and flashed. It seemed an interminable process.

Finally she spoke to Alwynne, her eyes on her work.

"Miss Durand! You gave my message to the Fifths?"

Yes, Alwynne had told the girls.

"Wasn't Louise in the room at the time?"

Alwynne's unwilling eyes took in every detail of the forlorn figure between them. She lied swiftly, amazing herself--

"As a matter of fact--I believe Louise was not in the room at the time.

It was my fault: I should have seen that she was told. I'm so sorry."

Louise gave a little gasp of relief--more audible than she realised.

Clare roused at it. She disliked a check. She disliked also the obvious sympathy between the child and the girl.

"No, it was my fault. I should have gone myself. It's always wiser. It saves trouble in the long run. Never mind, Louise. You couldn't help it.

Are you sure of your words?"

Louise, infinitely relieved, was quite sure of her words.

"Very well. Shut the door after you--oh, Louise!"

Louise turned in the doorway.

"Yes, Miss Hartill."

"I may as well explain to you now. I am re-arranging the cla.s.ses."

Louise questioned her mutely.

"You will be in the Upper Fourth next term."

Louise stood petrified. She had never thought of this.

"You are moving me down? I am third still."

"We think--Miss Marsham agrees with me--that the work in the Fifth is too much for you. It is not your fault."

"Miss Hartill, I have tried--I am trying."

Clare smiled quite pleasantly.

"I am quite sure of it. I tell you that I'm not blaming you. I blame myself. If I expected more of you than you could manage--no one but myself is to blame. I am sure you will do well in the Fourth."

Louise broke out pa.s.sionately--

"It is because of the examination."

Clare held out her crown at arm's length, and eyed it between criticism and approval as she answered Louise.

"I think," said Clare smoothly, "we had better not discuss the examination."

Louise stood in the doorway, her mouth quivering.

Alwynne could stand the scene no longer. She jerked herself upright, and, going to the child, slipped her arm about her and pushed her gently from the room.

Clare was still admiring her crown, as Alwynne shut the door again.

Alwynne must try it on. It would suit Alwynne.

Alwynne peeped at herself in the little mirror, but her thoughts were with Louise on the other side of the door.

"Clare," said Alwynne uneasily, "you hurt that child."

Clare looked at her oddly.

"Do her good," she said. "Do you think no one has ever hurt me?"

Alwynne was silent. At times her G.o.ddess puzzled her.

CHAPTER XXII