She began whispering to herself, a volume of Tennyson lying concealed in her lap. Mary shrugged her shoulders and went to another part of the school-room. Here was to be found a girl of the name of Penelope. She was a comparatively new comer, and had not entered the school until just before her sixteenth birthday. Some pressure had been brought to bear to secure her admission, and the girls were none of them sure whether they liked her or not. Mrs Hazlitt, however, took a good deal of notice of her, was specially kind to her, and often invited her to have supper with herself in the old summer parlour, where Queen Elizabeth was said, at one time, to have feasted. Penelope Carlton was not at all a pretty girl, but she was fair, with very light blue eyes, and an insipid face. Now, as Cara and Mary looked at her, it seemed to dart simultaneously into both their brains that, rather than lose the tableaux altogether, they might persuade Penelope to take the part of Helen. Penelope was not especially an easily persuaded young woman; she was somewhat dour of temper, and could be very disagreeable when she liked. Honora was a universal favourite, but no one specially cared for Penelope. Some of her greatest friends were the younger girls in the school, over whom she seemed to have an uncanny influence. "Listen, Penelope," said Mary, on this occasion. "You were in the arbour just now?" "Yes," said Penelope; "I was." "And you heard what Nora said?" "Not being stone-deaf, I heard what she said," responded Penelope. "You thought her, perhaps, a little goose?" said Cara. "Well," said Penelope, "I don't know that I specially applied that epithet to her. I suppose she had her reasons. I think, on the whole, I respected her. Few girls would give up the chance of taking the foremost position and looking remarkably pretty, just for the sake of a scruple." "And such a scruple!" cried Cara. "For, of course, Helen was visionary--nothing else." Penelope shrugged her shoulders. "I have not studied the character," she said. "I have purposely avoided learning anything about Greek heroines. I know about Jephtha's daughter; for I happen to have read the Book of Judges; and I also know the story of our Queen Eleanor; for I was slapped so often by my governess when I was learning that part of English history that I'm not likely to forget it. The great Queen Eleanor and going to bed supperless are associated in my mind together. Well, what do you want, girls? `A Dream of Fair Women' is at an end, is it not? I suppose we'll have something else--`Blue Beard,' or scenes from `Jane Eyre.' Oh dear--I wish there was not such a fuss about breaking-up day; you are all in such ludicrous spirits!" "And are not you?" said Mary L'Estrange, colouring slightly.