A Tangled Plot
Loveday and Diana went to bed that evening just as usual. They performed their customary hair-brush drill, twisted Diana's light-brown locks in curl-rags, and plaited Loveday's flaxen mane in two long braids, folded their clothes neatly, read their Bible portions, said their prayers, and blew out the candle. Then they lay chatting quietly till Miss Beverley came on her nightly round of dormitory inspection.
"Only a few weeks more and we shall be saying good-bye to the ivy room," said Loveday. "I shall be back in Liverpool; and where will you be, Diana?"
"Crossing the Atlantic, I hope. Dad's had our names down for passages for ever so long, and they told him our turn might come early in August. We're crazy to get home again."
"I don't wonder! But how I'll miss you! I shall want heaps of letters."
"Rather! And so shall I. I'll want to know what you're doing."
"Answering advertisements about posts as nursery governess," said Loveday bitterly. "No luck ever comes to me. I had a sort of wild idea that if I won the prize for that essay Uncle Fred might think it worth while sending me somewhere to train; but I know I shan't get it now. Hilary read us bits out of hers, and it's just splendid—far better than mine. I'm not in the innings."
"Oh, Loveday, what a shame! The prize means so much more to you than to Hilary."
"I know it does. She'll win the maths prize too, and the Latin one."
"It doesn't seem fair she should get everything. I wonder if she'd hold back her essay so as to give you a chance?"