"Oh, well," said Jane, mollified at once, "if you are going to make me your friend, like we used to be before that dreadful day when Ralph ran away, of course I shall be glad. But I thought you were quite changed, that you were the good-girl-for-evermore sort. You know you did repent--everyone in the school knew it, and on the whole, I was glad, although you gave me up." While Jane was speaking, the two girls had left the yard, and had entered a little bowery path which led round to the left side of the house. Here they could be seen from the house, but could not be heard. Harriet looked full at Jane when they found themselves in this bowery retreat. "Look here," she said, "I must out with it." "Well?" said Jane, expectantly. Jane looked stouter and rounder and broader than ever. "Well?" she repeated, fixing her black eyes on Harriet's face. "I am not a good-for-evermore sort of girl," said Harriet. Then she stood very still, and waited for Jane to reply. Jane could not tell at that moment whether she was most glad or sorry. Harriet had always rather frightened her, and since the date of Harriet's repentance she, Jane, had had what might be expressed as a very good and comfortable time. She had got into no scrapes, she had had of course no adventures; but then she had worked at her studies, and had made such admirable progress that she even won a small prize at the break-up. Nevertheless, Jane had her own little jealousies, and although they were not so marked as Harriet's--for her character was nothing like as strong as the character of her friend--they did rankle in her breast. To be even the one confidante of the naughty girl of the third form was better than to be no one's confidante at all; and from the moment of Harriet's repentance, Jane had been feeling very safe, but just a little dull, and just a tiny bit forsaken. Now, therefore, to receive the old confidence back again, to notice the daring look in Harriet's light blue eyes, and to hear the old ring in her voice, awoke a certain very naughty pleasure in Jane. "Oh well," she said; "I thought your good fit couldn't last forever. But what is it now?" "I am just madly jealous of that Robina," whispered Harriet. "Oh," said Jane; "it's the old thing! But why can't you leave poor Robina alone?" "I can't: she has got Bo-peep." "Well; of course she has," said Jane. "You knew quite well she would get Bo-peep from the moment that you made such a mess of things with poor little Ralph, and he was handed over to Robina to mother him. That is no news, surely you ought to have got over that by now." "I ought; but I haven't," said Harriet; "so where's the good of `oughting' me about it?" "I see you are the same as ever," said Jane in a low tone in which satisfaction and perplexity were mingled.