“Hannah Joyce! Good gracious, what a mercy you remembered her, Sophy! Of course she must join. Dear, dear, what a worry things are!—If only you hadn’t been so violent that time, Grace! What a job the rest of us have trying to shield you!”
“I don’t think Hannah will do what you want,” said Sophia. “Hannah is looking very unhappy lately.”
“She must do what we want,” was Kitty’s remark. “Let some one fetch her without delay.—You’d best go, Grace, as you are the culprit, the rest of us have done nothing except try to shield you. Now trot, my dear Grace, trot.”
Hannah Joyce had been asked by her other room-mates to join them in their walk, they wanted to consult her about the prize. Hannah knew quite well that such was their thought, and for that very reason, if for no other, she refused to go. She was feeling intensely unhappy; she knew that she was throwing away a splendid chance; she knew well the capacities of every girl in the Lower School, and she was thoroughly aware of the fact that, now that Peggy was removed, she herself had the most marked ability and the greatest firmness and steadiness of character. Priscilla, Annie, and Rufa were very nice, good, everyday sort of girls, but they were younger than Hannah to begin with, and were none of them at all clever. The Dodds were simply parasites, no more and no less. Did they happen to be poor, how soon would Kitty have spurned them from her friendship! Sophia was weak—Hannah felt rather sorry for Sophia—and then there remained Kitty, or The Brat. Kitty was, beyond doubt, wonderfully beautiful, and she had that sort of cleverness which belongs to a treacherous, selfish, and designing nature; beyond that she had nothing. She was not a steady worker, she could not write an essay in decent English to save her life. Yes, if Hannah chose, she had a fair, a more than fair, chance of the prize.
When the girls went for their walk Hannah entered the little school library—it was too cold to go out with no object in view—and began to think about the prize. She could not help that, she could not turn her thoughts to any other subject. Try as she might, this was absolutely impossible. She pictured the scene at home if things were different, and if she had a right to compete for this delightful miniature, the difference in her future it would make, the difference in her present life it would make, the pride of her father and mother and of her brothers. Oh, if only those wicked girls would confess and let her try! Once she started to her feet with the idea of persuading them, but then again she sat down. It was so useless! And, after all, she had already to a certain extent committed herself. When questioned immediately after the supposed accident she had said she knew nothing, when she did know something, when she did know that Grace had come for Peggy and taken the girl away, and would not allow her, Hannah, to accompany them. If she mentioned these things now, doubtless the necessary clue would be forthcoming; but she had already yielded to the entreaties of those whom she knew were her false friends. She had, therefore, debarred herself from trying for the Howard prize.
“Well, I have been searching the house for you; where on earth have you hidden yourself?” said Grace, coming into the library and speaking in a very cross tone. “Ugh! what a cold room!” she continued, pretending to shiver as she spoke. “We thought, of course, you had gone for a walk with the others, Hannah. Why on earth didn’t you join us? We are having such a jolly time in the sitting-room.”
“I didn’t want to,” replied Hannah. “I am all right here, thanks.”
“Well, you’ve got to come with me now,” said Grace. “You’re wanted.”
“Wanted?” replied Hannah. “Who wants me?”
“Kitty wants you.”