"Oh, there’s heaps more I wanted to ask," said Monica. "I never dreamt but that you would stay to tea. What did Fräulein say to my being away yesterday? There will be no chance now of my coming out top in German, and that’s the only thing I had a shadow of a chance about." And Monica looked rueful. "Oh, she was very sorry about your ankle. She had heard from the other mistresses, I expect, for when I tried to explain she said: ’No, yes, but that is ver’ sad!’ in her broken English. You know how she says it; I can’t imitate her properly," said Olive. "But, I say, Monica, you won’t be away long, will you? Surely not three weeks?" And Olive’s bright face assumed a dismal expression at the thought of being so long without her friend. "Dr. Marley said this morning it might be better before then, but not fit for school. It is a bore; I wish that old bicycle was further." And the girl groaned. "So do I," acquiesced Olive sympathetically; neither of them apparently taking into consideration that the bicycle was quite the least guilty of everything and everybody concerned. "Well, I must go now, but I’ll come over as often as I can next week." "Not to-morrow?" "Why, that’s Sunday!" said Olive, in astonishment. "What of that?" queried Monica. "Why, there’s no time on Sundays: we go to church twice, and to Miss Grant’s class in the afternoon. Besides, mother doesn’t let us go for walks on Sundays." "What a funny idea! I never go, because there’s nothing to go for; but I don’t think grandmother would mind. She dozes all the afternoon, and I read. Oh, that reminds me: here is the book I promised to lend you, Olive," and she drew it from under her cushions. "’_A Cruel Fate_’;" Olive read the title aloud, and glanced at the closely printed pages. "It doesn’t look _very_ interesting, Monica." "Oh, it is, awfully. You can’t think how it fascinated me." "I’m sure mother would not think it was a nice book," she said doubtfully. "Oh, fiddlesticks!" was Monica’s rather rude reply. "You take it home and read it on the quiet, and if you don’t want to borrow some more next time you come, I shall be very much mistaken. Your mother can’t expect to keep you tied to her apron-strings always." And there was again that suggestion of a sneer underlying the words which Olive could not stand. A girl with higher principles would have said: "No, thank you, Monica; I would rather not have anything to do with it." And if Olive Franklyn had had the courage to refuse the evil that afternoon, she would have saved herself much sorrow. But she weakly gave in, and slipped the book into her string-bag, well knowing that she was flatly disobeying her mother’s commands.