She crouched down on a corner of her bedroom sofa and sobbed as if her heart would break. The old intolerable pangs of homesickness woke up again and dragged at her heart; the longing for her own place, her own people, above all, for the precious mother who always sympathised and understood. Perhaps Mrs Faucit would be so disgusted that she would send her straight back to school. Well! at this moment the thought of the quiet house and of Mardie's loving kindness was by no means unwelcome. At school, at least, everyone was kind--the very servants went out of their way to give her pleasure--there was no terrible Lady Sarah to stare at her through gold-rimmed eye-glasses, and criticise and find fault from morning till night. It was in reality less than ten minutes, but it seemed like hours to Mildred before the door opened to admit Bertha and Lois, and a fresh outburst of sobbing was the only notice which she took of their entrance. Bertha slipped an arm round her waist. Lois sniffed in sympathy from afar. "Never mind her, Mil!" she cried. "Don't cry. You couldn't possibly have anything prettier than the blue crepe," but at this Mildred raised her face in eager protest. "Oh, I'm not crying about that! I don't care a rap about the dress, but--but she made me so furious. It had been going on all morning, and I c-couldn't bear it any longer. I am so ashamed. I can't bear to think of it. I don't know what I said." The twins exchanged furtive glances. "You called her `an interfering, disagreeable old woman'!" whispered Bertha with bated breath, glancing half fearfully at the door as she spoke. "I--I felt as if the world were coming to an end! As if the ceiling would fall down over our heads! Oh, Mil, you should have seen her face! I never saw anyone look so astonished in my life, but the curious part of it is that I don't think she was angry. She knew she had no right to speak as she had done, and I believe she admired you for being indignant. Perhaps you will be better friends after this." "No, we won't!" said Mildred, setting her chin stubbornly; "because I won't, if she will. I'll never forgive her. It is not Lady Sarah I care about--it is your mother. Oh, I can't forget her face, she looked so shocked! She stared at me with such horrified eyes. Is she awfully angry, do you think?" "I haven't spoken to her. She sent us out of the room directly after you left, but she didn't seem angry, only quiet and grieved." "Oh, oh, oh! what shall I do? I hate people to be grieved! I detest it! It's fifty thousand times worse than being angry. If people are angry you can defend yourself and take your own part, but if they are `grieved' you can only feel a wretch, as if you had no right to live. Oh, dear, what will she think of me! It was only the other day she was saying that I kept my temper so well, and now I've disgraced myself for ever! She will never, never forgive me!"