Miss Walton tried to look severe, remarking: “Don’t be frivolous here, my dear”; but, as Hal described it later, “she looked as if having so often to be sedate was beginning to make her tired.” But when she proceeded to explain to Hal that neither she nor her sister were easy in their minds about her growing devotion to Lorraine, Hal’s expressive mouth began to look rather stern, and neither the ink-smudges nor the tousled hair could rob her of a certain naïve dignity as she asked, “Are you implying anything against Lorraine?” “No, no, my dear, certainly not,” Miss Walton replied, feeling slightly at a loss to express herself, “but I have never encouraged a violent friendship between two girls that is apt to make them hold aloof from the others, and be continually in one another’s society. And in this instance, Lorraine being so much older than you, and of a temperament hardly likely to appeal to your brother, as a desirable one in your great friend—” “I am not asking Dudley to make her his great friend—” “Don’t interrupt me, dear. I am only speaking of what I am perfectly aware are your brother’s feeling concerning you; and seeing you have neither father nor mother, I feel my responsibility and his the greater.” “But what is the matter with Lorraine?” Hal cried, growing a little exasperated. “She is not nearly so frivolous as I am, and works far harder.” Miss Walton hesitated a little. “We feel she is naturally rather worldly-minded and ambitious, whereas you—” She paused. “Whereas I am a simpleton,” suggested Hal, with a mischievous light in her eyes. “Well, then, dear Miss Walton, how fortunate for me that some one clever and briljant is willing to give me her friendship and help to lift me out of my slough of simpletondom!” Miss Walton looked up with a reproof on her lips, but it died away, and a new expression came into her eyes as she seemed to see something in this unruly pupil she had not before suspected. Hal still looked as if a smothered sense of injustice might presently explode into hot words; but in the meantime the air of dignity stood its ground in spite of smudges and untidiness. Neither spoke for a moment, and then Miss Walton remarked: “You do not mean to be guided by me in this matter?” “Lorraine is my friend,” Hal answered. “I cannot let myself listen to anything that suggests a slur upon her.” “Not even if your brother expressed a wish on the subject?” “I do not ask Dudley to let me choose his friends.” “That is quite a different matter. He is fifteen years your senior.” Hal was silent. She stood with her hands behind her, and her head held high, and her clear eyes very straight to the front; well-knit, well-built, with a promise of that vague something which is so much stronger a factor in the world than mere beauty.