"Yes," said Honora, "but I am thinking of you as you are. Come and be congratulated: you are the heroine of the evening." "No, I cannot: I don't want them to see me; I would rather just creep away and put on my plain dress and say good-bye to Brenda; I have hardly seen her all day." "Oh, but your sister has been quite happy: she has not been neglected, I can assure you." "Still, I must talk to her for a minute or two, and she has to catch her train. Let me go, Honora. Don't tell any one that I cried. I am rather ashamed of myself: I don't--I don't quite know why." Honora bent down. She was taller than Penelope, and much more slim. She kissed the girl on her forehead. Penelope suddenly clung to her. "Why didn't you do it--you who could?" "That is just it: I couldn't. I don't pretend that I am not more beautiful than you in face, but that has nothing to do with one's personating the part. If you really feel it, you take the character of the part until it grows into your face. I could never have been Helen. You did it splendidly, no one could have looked more lovely. Just remember that you have had a great triumph and be happy and, Penelope-- one minute--" "Yes," said Penelope, pausing. "I want to have a talk with you to-morrow." "Very well." "We shall all leave during the course of the day, but you are staying at the school." "I am." "Come to my room at ten o'clock. Good-bye for the present." Penelope flew out of sight. She rushed upstairs, changed her Greek dress for a pretty, simple white one, in which she had been apparelled during the early part of the day and, after considerable searching, found her sister. Brenda was refreshing herself with cake and claret cup when Penelope came up to her. "Oh--good gracious!" she said, when she saw Penelope's face very pale now, with her eyes looking lighter and more faded than usual because of the sudden tears she had shed. "I do wish to goodness I had not seen you again to-night." "What a fearfully unkind thing to say, Brenda, when I have been just longing to be with you." "I could have gone home and dreamt all night that I had a beautiful sister," continued Brenda--"but now--" Just then young Mr Hungerford appeared. "Ah,"--he said to Brenda--"you have found your sister. May I congratulate you!" he said; and he looked at poor, dowdy little Penelope with that wonder which his honest eyes could not but reflect. For how was it possible that she had ever been got to present one of the most majestic figures in ancient story! Penelope murmured something and then turned to her sister. "I must get out of this," she said. "I simply can't stand their congratulations. I ought never to have done it--I only wish I hadn't." "Well, come with me to the station; I don't suppose Mrs Hazlitt will mind. You should have worn your Greek costume for the rest of the evening; these people would have gone on admiring you."