But all these things were for the future. She was now sixteen and a half years of age. She had been at Hazlitt Chase for exactly six months. She had not found any special niche in the school, but her teacher spoke fairly well of her, and she resolved to devote herself to those accomplishments which might make her valuable by-and-by, and not for a single instant to trouble her head about either moral or religious training. "My place in this world is quite hard enough, and I cannot bother about any other," thought Penelope. "I must enjoy the present and get strong, and do right, because otherwise Mrs Hazlitt won't give me a character of any use to me: and then I must get the best salary I can and save money for Brenda. At least, we could spend our holidays together." These were Penelope's thoughts until that evening. But now all was changed; for the daring idea had come into her head to ask Mary L'Estrange and Cara Burt to give her twenty pounds to send to her sister. They wanted her, Penelope, to take the part of Helen of Troy, and why should she not be rewarded for her pains? "Their wishes are on no account because of me," thought the girl, "they are all for themselves, because that silly Mary thinks she will look well as Jephtha's daughter, and Cara as Iphigenia. Neither of them will look a bit well. There is only one striking-looking girl in the school, and that is Honora Beverley, and why she is not Helen is more than I can make out. This will be a horrid piece of work, but where's the good of sacrificing yourself for nothing? and poor old Brenda would be so pleased. I wonder if, whoever the present man is, he is really fond of her? But whether that is the case or not, I am sure that she wants the money, and she may as well have it. I was never up to much; but if I can help Brenda, I will fulfil some sort of destiny, anyway." These thoughts were quite sufficient to keep Penelope awake until the early hours of the morning. Then she did drop asleep, and was not aroused until she heard Deborah's good-natured voice in her ears. "Why--my dear Penelope,"--she said--"didn't you hear the first bell? You will be late for prayers, unless you are very quick indeed." Up jumped Penelope out of bed. A minute later she had plunged her head and face into a cold bath, and in an incredibly short space of time she had run downstairs and joined her companions just as they were trooping into the centre hall for prayers. This hall was a great feature of Hazlitt Chase. It was quite one of the oldest parts of the house. The girls' dormitories were quite neat and fresh with every modern convenience, but the hall must have stood in its present position for long centuries, and was the pride and delight of Mrs Hazlitt herself, and of all those girls who had any aesthetic tastes.