Kitty, of course, had been listening to this conversation. Something in the child's obvious eagerness touched her. Besides, Erica had never looked very well since that bad attack of influenza the last term. Her face was paler and thinner, her dark eyes looked bigger. It even seemed to Kitty that there was something strained and tense in her expression and attitude, though probably that was merely imagination on her part. She broke in with: "Oh, let her go, Duane, as she seems so very keen. If she gets tired I'll undertake to give her a push." Duane shrugged her shoulders in her characteristic fashion. "I suppose, since Kitty takes your part, I shall have to put your name down. Kitty's quite capable of pushing herself and you too; in fact, she'd doubtless enjoy the double burden." Kitty glanced sharply at Duane. Was she trying to be nasty, or was it merely her flippant, cynical way of talking? Impossible to tell. Kitty glanced once more at Erica, who was exclaiming gratefully, "Oh, thank you _ever_ so much, both of you! You _are_ two dears," and said in a low voice to Duane: "I don't think the child's looking very fit, do you?" Duane frowned slightly, then turned to Erica. "I suppose you haven't anything on for the rest of the evening?" "No. Nothing special. I wanted to read, but it's so noisy in the common-room. It makes my head ache." "Sit down in that chair then, for a bit," said Duane abruptly, pointing with the handle of her pen to the easy chair in front of the hearth. "Kitty and I are both busy, so it will be quiet enough in here." The child hesitated, flushing up. "Are you sure I shan't be in your way?" "Quite." "Then I should just love to." She curled herself up in the chair before the fire, and there was silence in the room, broken only by the scratching of pens. Erica sat quiet and still, her dreamy gaze wandering from Duane to Kitty, and from Kitty to Duane, and in her soft dark eyes was the whole-hearted if childish hero-worship that is so common and natural between small schoolboys and girls and their seniors, the girls and boys who are at top of the school. Presently, the warmth from the fire making her drowsy, she dropped off to sleep, her head against the back of the chair. "She's asleep," said Kitty softly, glancing up. "I thought she looked tired." She nibbled her pen-handle, then went on hesitatingly, "I say, Duane, I'm--I don't pretend to be very observant and all that, but it has struck me that the kid is--is worrying over something--has got something on her mind." Duane did not look very much impressed. "What on earth should she have on her mind? Besides, there's her sister. It's her business to see if the kid's worried by anything." "Well, I don't know much about Bertha," went on Kitty, hesitating. "To tell you the truth, I never did take to her much. But----"