"Note that down, please, Frederica," said Patience. Frederica did so. "Can you state now," continued Patience, very solemnly, "can you as a Christian child who has been baptised and has gone to church every Sunday and who hopes to be confirmed next year--can you state solemnly that to your certain knowledge there is no foul play in this matter? If, after careful consideration, you will tell us that, we shall be inclined to believe you. But pause a minute first," continued Patience; "we want you to consider very carefully what such a statement on your part means. It means that Harriet, who is unsuited in every respect to look after Ralph, will be elected as his school-mother, and it means, if you state a false thing, that you can never, never, as long as you live, be a truly happy girl again. Now, tell us the truth. We promise to believe you as far as we can. Yes or no, Jane? yes or no?" "You frighten me," said Jane. "That is not the point. What do you mean to say?" "I--I can't--" Jane wriggled. "Look up," said Patience. "You are not a coward by nature. Can you positively declare that there is no foul play?" "I can't," said Jane then; and at these words she subsided into her seat sobbing, not loudly, but in the most heart-broken and terrible manner, swaying from side to side, bemoaning her own lot, and then suddenly springing up and confronting the five girls. "Oh, you are cruel!" she said. "You persecute me! You have not got a little Bobbie and a little Miriam waiting and wanting--waiting and wanting all you can get for them." "You poor child!" said Patience. Her tone changed. She went straight up to the culprit and put her arms round her neck. "Come along here, Janie," she said. "You are a weak sort, but when all is said and done, you are not half bad. You have had the misfortune since you came to school to choose a friend who worked on your worst not your best feelings. Now, suppose Vivian and Rose and Cecil and Frederica and I take the place of Harriet Lane in your friendship; don't you think you will do fifty times better?" "Oh, but you can't be my friends," said Jane, wonderfully comforted in spite of herself. "You can't, for you don't know me. You don't know half nor quarter how bad I am, nor,--nor--what I have done nor how--how I was tempted, nor--nor--the half nor the _quarter_ of what has happened."