"No; she's quite well."
"And your grandfather?"
"They are both quite well. It is—no, it's not nothing, for it is something; but I can't tell you. Please don't ask me."
"You look very sad."
"I feel miserable."
"I wonder—" said Cassandra thoughtfully.
Ruth looked at her. There was absolute despair in the eyes generally so clear and steadfast and bright. At this moment Kathleen O'Hara was seen passing through the playground in a sort of triumphal progress. She was accompanied by quite a tail of girls: one hung on her right arm, another on her left; a third danced in front of her; and other girls followed in a thick procession.
"I feel like a queen-bee that has just swarmed," she remarked en passant to Cassandra Weldon.
Her rude words, the impertinent little toss of her head, and the defiant glance out of her very dark-blue eyes caused Cassandra to stamp her foot.
"Ruth," she said, "I don't like your friend Kathleen O'Hara."