"They all seem so happy--it is good to see them; and how pretty Rhoda looks to-night! It is so interesting to see the girls grow up, and come out as full-fledged young ladies. I've seen two transformations to- day--Rhoda and Tom!" "Miss Bolderston? Really! Would you call her a transformation?" queried Harold, raising his eyebrows with an expression which said all that he dare not put into words. "If that is a transformation, one is tempted to wonder what she was like before--" "Don't!" Evie looked at him pleadingly. "Don't make fun of her, please, because we love her so dearly. Men don't appreciate Tom, and she doesn't show her best side to them, but she is a splendid girl, and the truest of friends. She was so kind to me to-day." "You were talking to her about your work, and worrying because you could not go back at once!" said Harold shrewdly, and Evie looked at him under raised, apologetic eyebrows, quite overcome at being read in so easy a fashion. "Well--just a little! I said that I could not go back to Hurst, as I should not be able to take part in games again--" "And she sympathised with you, and agreed that it was a desperate lot?" "No, indeed! You don't know Tom! She is far too much of an optimist to see the black side. She only said she was interested to see what would happen next, and that it was like being stopped suddenly in the middle of a story. I thought it was a very cheerful way of looking at it." She paused, not caring, for some indefinite reason, to say anything of that later proposition, in the carrying out of which she and Tom were to grow old side by side; but the idea lay on her mind, and presently she added dreamily, "But, even if I _am_ lame, my mind is not affected. I can teach just as well as ever. There must be an opening for me somewhere. There are plenty of small schools where they don't go in for sports, plenty of girls who have to be educated at home--delicate girls, backward girls, girls who are, perhaps, like myself! I could teach them still if they would let me try--" It was a very sweet little voice, and the quiver with which it broke off sounded strangely pathetic in the silence. Harold did not speak, and his head was bent forward so that Evie could not see his face. His hands were clasped and pressed so tightly together that the muscles stood out under the skin, but presently one of them was stretched forward and laid pleadingly over her own. "Dearest and sweetest," said Harold softly; "teach me instead!" When Rhoda came rushing into the room ten minutes later it was to find her brother seated by Evie on the sofa, and to meet two pairs of eyes which tried vainly to look calm and composed, but which were in reality so brimming over with happiness that the news was told without need of a single word. "Oh!" she cried, stopping short and staring in astonishment. "_Oh_!" and then Evie struggled to her feet and held out wide, welcoming arms.