"That is no reason. We have many nationalities here, and do you imagine that every girl can be permitted to carry out her individual taste? Tell me why you suppose such a rule was framed."
"I don't know," returned Honor rebelliously.
"Then you must think, for I require an answer."
Honor stared at the fireplace, at the bookcase, with its richly bound volumes; at the window, where the red robe of St. Hilary made such a glorious spot of colour; at the table, covered with books and papers; and finally her glance went back to the head mistress, whose eyes were still fixed on her with that steady, embarrassing gaze.
"Was it to make everybody look alike?" she replied at last, almost as if the words were dragged from her lips.
"Exactly! Then, to return to my original question, why, knowing this fact, did you presume to break the rule?"
Honor was again silent. Somehow her intended bravery seemed to desert her.
"I met your father, Major Fitzgerald, yesterday," continued Miss Cavendish. "I understand that he held a command in the Royal Munster Fusiliers, and did splendid service in the Boer War. Kindly tell me what explanation he would have given to his general if he had appeared at church parade minus his uniform."
"Oh, but he wouldn't have done that!" exclaimed Honor in horror.
"Why not?"