"You've about as much sense as a sparrow," declared Hazel, "and you'll never have any more if you live to be a hundred. I shan't trouble to play your rubbishy games again!" And she turned away to get out her writing case, and begin a home letter, with such a cross expression on her countenance that the others wisely left her alone. It was only a few days after this that an incident occurred which unfortunately caused the first shadow of a quarrel between Sylvia and her friend. The dancing classes had commenced and were held weekly in the large schoolroom at half-past two o'clock. Everyone was expected to appear in a light frock and thin shoes, so the afternoon seemed almost more like a party than a lesson. Miss Delaney, the teacher, was immensely popular with the girls, and they looked forward to Friday throughout the whole week. Linda, who was particularly graceful and light of foot, was considered one of the best dancers in the school, and always included in a tarantella or gavotte, or any figure which required a little more skill than was possessed by most of the beginners. Linda's music lesson happened to be on Friday afternoon at two o'clock and she went straight from Miss Denby and the piano to the dancing class. Now on this particular day she had put on her white dress as usual, but just as she was opening the door of the practising-room she suddenly noticed that she had completely forgotten to change her shoes. What was she to do? There was not time to run back for them now, as Miss Denby had caught sight of her and she dare not beat a retreat; neither could she go after her lesson, because the girls were strictly forbidden upstairs when once the school bell had rung. Hazel, however, happened to be passing down the corridor exactly at that moment, and Linda managed to find time to gasp out: "Ask Sylvia to bring my dancing shoes to the dressing-room," before Miss Denby said: "Come along, Linda! What are you waiting for?" and she was obliged to enter and shut the door. Hazel was in no hurry to deliver her message. She waited until about twenty-five minutes past two, then, going into the playroom, where most of the others were collected, she strolled leisurely across to Sylvia. "Here, you," she said insolently, "you've got to go and fetch Linda's dancing shoes. She's forgotten them." "Who says I've got to go?" asked Sylvia angrily, for Hazel's tone had roused all her worst feelings. "I do for one!" "Then I just shan't." "All right! Shall I tell Linda you said you wouldn't?" "You can if you like. I'm sure I don't care. I haven't time to race about the school finding other people's things. It's almost half-past now." And Sylvia marched away to the dancing class with her nose in the air, as much out of temper as she had ever felt in her life.