were, however, lined with books. Beside the fire was the one
really comfortable piece of furniture in the room, an Ikeley couch,
and upon it lay a very wan-looking invalid, who glanced up with a
smile of welcome. "Why, Erica, you are home early today. How is
that?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Erica, tossing down her books in a way
which showed her mother that she was troubled about something. "I
suppose I tore along at a good rate, and there was no temptation to
stay at the High School."

"Come and tell me about it," said the mother, gently, "what has
gone wrong, little one?"

"Everything!" exclaimed Erica, vehemently. "Everything always does
go wrong with us and always will, I suppose. I wish you had never
sent me to school, mother; I wish I need never see the place
again!"

"But till today you enjoyed it so much."

"Yes, the classes and the being with Gertrude. But that will never
be the same again. It's just this, mother, I'm never to speak to
Gertrude again--to have noting more to do with her."

"Who said so? And Why?"

"Why? Because I'm myself," said Erica, with a bitter little laugh.
"How I can help it, nobody seems to think. But Gertrude's father
has come back from Africa, and was horrified to learn that we were