“Oh, but that isn’t right; you should make it as nice as you can. Lisette says I have a talent for hairdressing; I have dressed mine myself for more than a year, for Lisette confesses she cannot do it so well as I can. Come now, and we shall see what can be done with yours.” There was indeed a wonderful improvement in Linnæa when she went downstairs that morning; all the girls noticed it, and a few complimented her on the improvement of her hair. A few of them guessed who had done it, and understood that Gwendoline was proceeding with the work she had taken in hand, but no remarks were passed on that subject; for had not that been forbidden by Gwendoline?—and already Gwendoline’s will was law in that small community. That night Gwendoline and Linnæa again walked up to bed together and parted at Linnæa’s door. Linnæa’s heart beat quickly as they neared her door. Would Gwendoline kiss her to-night? If so, the kiss should be returned. She would at least make an effort to keep this sweet friendship which had entered into her barren life so suddenly. “Let me come in for a minute,” said Gwendoline. “We are to be friends, are we not?” she said, slipping her arm round Linnæa’s waist, and looking at her with her large, lustrous eyes. “I hope so, indeed,” Linnæa answered, her voice husky with emotion. “Very well, dear. Good night.” She was gone, and Linnæa had kissed her—the first schoolgirl she had ever kissed. What a happy girl she was that night. There was no doubt about it now; she had a friend at last—and such a friend—the loveliest, richest, most courted girl in the school. At the end of a week it was quite a noticeable friendship. Teachers saw it and remarked to each other on this strange freak of the new pupil in attaching herself to the girl who had kept herself so solitary hitherto. This view of it was wonderful, but equally so was it that Linnæa should return the affection; and that she did so in thorough earnest, no one could doubt. Her usually dull face lighted up when her eyes fell on Gwendoline—but indeed, her face was never so dull now, as it had once been; her very step was more elastic, and her voice had a different tone. And what of Gwendoline? She had fulfilled her vow, and awakened the love which had hitherto been slumbering in that lonely heart. The girls said inwardly it was a splendid piece of acting; anyone watching Gwendoline would have said the love was as much on her side as Linnæa’s. Her attitude towards Linnæa was such that, if the girls had not known it to be assumed, some of them would have been intensely jealous. Gwendoline Rivers, with her beauty and independence of character, had taken the school by storm, and a few would have given a good deal to have got half of the attention lavished upon Linnæa. Great were the talks which took place with reference to it, when they thought themselves fairly out of the hearing of both girls.