"Impossible to say. Nobody knows. Mr Rawdon will announce it himself. There he is--over by the fireplace, talking to Miss Drake. Fancy an author looking like that! Quite smart and shaved, like an ordinary man. I expected yards of beard. Oh, dear! my life is in his hands, and he is laughing and talking as if nothing were going to happen! At three o'clock we have all to go down to the big classroom. Sit where you can see me, Ro, and smile at me encouragingly when he gets up; but if someone else wins, look the other way--I shall want to hide my anguish." Rowena laughed--a trill of merry, irresistible laughter, and the stare of scornful reproach failed to move her to penitence. "You funny girl--you funny girl! Oh, Dreda, you _do_ exaggerate! A passing disappointment like that! Such a little, little thing, when there are such big prizes waiting in life! Oh, Dreda, you are _young_!" "Oh, Rowena, you are--" The retort hung fire, for at the moment it seemed impossible to think of the right word to express what Rowena was. "_Changed_!" came at last, as a somewhat tame conclusion, but at least it had the effect of making Rowena blush from the tip of her dainty chin to the very roots of her flaxen hair. Now, why should one blush as though one had been detected in a crime at simply being accused of change? At five minutes to three the pupils left the drawing-room, and took their places ranged at the back of the big classroom. A small platform had been erected at the farther end, on which sat the teachers, with Mr Rawdon in the place of honour, just behind the water-bottle on the table. Parents and friends sat in chairs running sideways down the room, so that they were able to see the girls and watch the progress of happy prize-winners towards the platform. Rowena smiled confidently at her sister, but Dreda had forgotten her sister's existence. Her heart was beating in quick, sickening thuds; her feet and hands were icy cold; her knees jerked up and down, and in her throat was a hard, swelling pain. It seemed as if all the happiness of life depended upon the next few minutes; as if she could never hold up her head again if she failed now. The girls were smiling and nudging each other gaily; Norah was whispering to Susan, and Susan was listening with an air of genuine interest. Were they all sticks and stones, who had no capacity for feeling? Then Mr Rawdon rose to his feet, and there was an outburst of clapping from the audience. Dreda's own hands moved automatically, and again she wondered at their cold. The first few sentences sounded like a meaningless buzz; then gradually her brain took in the words. Mr Rawdon was expressing conventional pleasure at the "privilege" accorded him by his "kind friend;" these formal civilities were just the clearing of the way before the real business began, and speaker and hearers alike heaved a sigh of relief when they were over and the interesting criticism had begun.