After breakfast came Miss Everett, sweet as ever, and looking refreshingly pretty in her pale blue blouse and natty collar and cuffs. If one did not know to the contrary, she would certainly have been mistaken for one of the elder girls, and her manner was delightfully unprofessional. "Well, my poor dear, this is bad news! I _was_ sorry when Tom told me. What is it?--headache--back-ache--pain in your throat?" Rhoda stretched herself lazily and considered the question. "A kind of general all-overishness, if you know what that means. I feel played out. I tried to get up, but it was no use, I simply couldn't stand. I feel as if I had no back left--as weak as a kitten." Miss Everett looked at her quietly, then her eye roved round the room and rested meaningly on half-a-dozen pieces of paper fastened up in conspicuous positions. One sheet was tacked into the frame of the looking-glass, another into a picture, a third pinned against the curtain, and each was covered with Rhoda's large writing, easily legible across the few yards of space: Rules of Latin Grammar, List of Substantives, Tenses of Verbs--they stared one in the face at every turn, and refused to be avoided. Miss Everett laid her hand upon the bed, and something rustled beneath her touch. Yet another sheet had been concealed beneath her pillow. "Oh, Rhoda!" she cried, reproachfully; "oh, Rhoda!" The girl put on an air of protest. "What? There's no harm in it, is there? I can't catch the others up unless I work hard. I have not enough time in preparation, so I put these up and learn them while I dress and undress, and every time I come in to prepare for a meal. You have no idea what a lot I get through. And I keep a list in my pocket too, and take it out at odd moments. Miss Murray is surprised at the way I am getting on." "I have been surprised too, to see you look so ill, with such white cheeks and heavy eyes. I understand it now." "But, Miss Everett, I _must_ work. I _must_ get on! If I am behind I _must_ catch up. Even if I am tired I must get on in my class." "Why?" Why? Why must she get on? It was such an extraordinary question to come from a teacher, that Rhoda could only gasp in bewilderment--"Why? You ask _why_?" "Yes, I do. One has always some object in work. I wondered what yours might be. Why are you so terribly anxious to come to the front?" A dozen answers rose to Rhoda's lips. To impress Thomasina; to show her that if I do think a good deal of myself, it's not without a cause... To take the conceit out of the girls who patronise me. To be able to patronise in my turn, and not remain always insignificant and powerless... To show Harold how clever I am, and to have my name put on the Record Wall when I leave! ... They were one and all excellent reasons, yet somehow she did not care to confide them to Miss Everett. Instead, she hesitated, and answered by another question.