had been said for the moment, and calling her elder pupils to her side, set the two younger girls free to walk together.
It was the moment for which both had been longing, but a mutual shyness held them tongue-tied for the first hundred yards. Naturally it was Dreda who broke the silence.
“It was ripping of you to offer to coach me. I don’t believe in learning all those things, but if I must, I must, and it would have been difficult all alone. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I want to,” said Susan simply. “I’ve always wanted to do something for you, since the first time we met. It was at a Christmas party at the Rectory and you wore a black frock. I never thought then that you would come to school with us, but I wished you could be my friend. When I’ve made castles in the air they have always been about you, and something we could do together. I sat beside you at supper. Do you remember?”
No! Dreda had no recollection of the kind. She and her brothers and sisters had always cherished a secret contempt for the Webster sisters and had sedulously avoided them on every occasion. If Susan had been seated on one side at supper, it followed as a matter of course that Dreda herself had devoted her attention exclusively to whoever sat at the other side. She felt a faint pricking of conscience, and answered tentatively: “It is so long ago. I have a wretched memory. I remember we had lovely crackers at supper—but that’s all. How did you come to notice me?”
“Because you were so pretty,” Susan said. “Your sister is pretty too, very pretty, but she does not look so gay. And your brothers—they are such big, handsome boys. You are all handsome, and big, and strong, and have such romantic names. You seemed far more like a family in a book than real, live people. The ‘Story-Book Saxons’—that was always our name for you when we spoke of you between ourselves. Do you think it is nice?”
“Very nice, indeed. ‘Story-Book Saxons!’ I must tell Rowena that.” Dreda preened her head complacently. This simple admiration was most refreshing after the humiliations of the morning. “Perhaps we are rather unusual,” she allowed. “Rowena is beautiful when she is in a good temper, and the boys are always bringing home prizes, and being captains in their sports. Maud is stupid, but she has lovely hair, and I, I’m not advanced in lessons—your sort of lessons—but Miss Bruce says I have a very original mind. When I’m grown up I don’t intend to stodge along in the dull, humdrum fashion most women do. I mean to Do something. To Be something. To live for an Aim!”
Susan regarded her with serious eyes.
“What sort of aim?”
“Oh–h”—Dreda waved her arms with a sweeping movement—“I’ve not decided. There’s plenty of time. But I mean to have a Career, and make my name known in the world.”