Dreda felt a sudden chilling of the blood. Her heart pounded against her side, and an inner voice cried in her ear: "Norah is dead! You were saying horrid things about her an hour ago, and now she is dead. You led the way along this dangerous path, and she followed and got killed, and it is _your_ fault! Norah is dead, and it is you who have killed her!" She crawled forward on hands and knees, and peered fearfully at the still face. The spectacles had fallen off Norah's nose. The freckles looked browner than ever against the pallor of the skin. Her face looked pinched and wan, but she was not dead: the breath came faintly from between the parted lips, the cheeks were warm to the touch. Dreda gave a great sigh of relief, and seating herself in the middle of the road, lifted Norah's head with her strong young arms until it lay pillowed on her knee. She searched for her handkerchief, wiped the dust from the unconscious face, and stroked back the heavy hair, crooning over her the while in tones of fondest affection. "Norah! Norah dear! Norah, wake up! I'm here. Dreda's with you, dear!" Hitherto Dreda had felt no affection for Norah West; there had been little sympathy between them, and the rivalry for Susan's favour had been a constant cause of friction; but at this moment it seemed the most important thing in life that Norah should open her eyes and speak once more. In the silent tension of those waiting moments Dreda had a flash of rare insight into the feelings of another. Poor old Norah! She had been snappy at times, but what wonder! It must have been hateful to have a new girl come to school and become the chosen chum of the girl you wanted for yourself; to see her take the lead, while you remained in your insignificant corner. Norah was neither pretty, clever, nor amusing; she was not popular in the school; but, indeed, she had never striven after popularity. The one thing she had desired above all others was Susan's friendship, and that she had failed to gain. Dreda had been accustomed to jeer at the limitations of others; but now, for the first time in her life, she felt a pang of whole-hearted sympathy towards the girl who was so much less fortunate than herself. "It's no credit to me that I'm pretty, but I should have hated to be plain. It would have warped my disposition to look in the glass every day and see nothing but freckles and glittering gold specs. Perhaps it warped Norah's. I ought to have been sorry, instead of proud and superior. And I'm not clever, either--I thought I was--and it was dreadful finding out. I expect she hated it, too. Norah! Oh, Norah, I have behaved like a blind, self-satisfied bat. If you go and die now I shall be miserable all my life--bowed down with remorse! Oh, Norah, do, _do_ open your eyes!"