All her vexed, disappointed feeling had now vanished, and only sorrow remained that she should have tried in even a small degree to walk, as it were, alone. A line of a hymn they sometimes sang kept running in her head; and when she laid it wearily upon her pillow, she kept on repeating, till sleep overtook her— "Choose Thou for me my friends, My sickness or my health; Choose Thou my cares for me, My poverty or wealth. "Not mine, not mine the choice In things or great or small; Be Thou my guide, my strength, My wisdom, and my all." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER X. SISTER AND BROTHER. "WELL, Ada, how did the gloves go off?" asked Arthur at breakfast next morning. "Pretty well," answered Ada seriously. "I'll tell you all about it when we start for school." Arthur looked up in her face inquiringly; but there was a gravity there so unusual that he felt touched, and forbore to take the opportunity of teasing her, which he would otherwise have done. When they ran down the steps of No. S together, and set off towards their respective schools, Ada began at once to explain about the difficulties of the previous evening, and she received the fullest sympathy. "I should cut her dead this morning," he advised. "I do not think I shall," answered Ada; "but of course, Arthur, I can never feel quite the same again. Not that I bear her a grudge; I really do forgive her for the pain she caused me; but I was mistaken in her, and I can't feel the same." "I should think not," said Arthur; "but I never did admire that girl, she's far too grand to suit my fancy." "Oh, that's nothing; she's not grand at all; there are lots of girls grander at our school. She was one of the popular girls, and I believe, Arthur," added Ada, lowering her tone, "that I liked being her friend for that reason." "A very silly reason," said Arthur, in his inexperience. "And now I'm friendless," said Ada, hopelessly. "You'll find another." "No; I shall never trust my own judgment again." Arthur whistled; and presently they came to the corner where they usually parted. "Isn't there something about 'I will guide thee with mine eye,' Ada?" he said thoughtfully. Ada nodded; but her eyes were tearful, and she hurried on towards school, feeling rather choked. That morning Clara May felt very uncomfortable when she thought of meeting her friend at school. She hoped Ada would have left the dressing-room before she went in; but in a moment became aware she was there, at the other side, changing her damp boots. When Ada raised her head, and saw who it was, she advanced directly across the room, looking frankly into her face, and said: "Clara, I wanted to tell you that I was so sorry I was not suitably dressed last night; but my excuse must be that I had no idea it was a party." "Oh, don't think anything more about it," answered Clara, looking away in some confusion; "it did not matter."