from going up for the Bursary, but it was impossible! I didn't want you to take it.'
'Don't say that!' cried Nessie quickly. 'You know I must go up for it. I've thought of nothing else for the last six months and if I had to draw back now it would fair break my heart. I must take it.'
'Do you really want to go on with it?' asked Mary doubtfully.
'Just think how I've worked,' replied Nessie with some emotion. 'Just think how I've been made to work. Am I going to let all that go for nothing? I should hope not. I'm so set on it myself now that I couldn't hold back if I was to try. I feel it now like something that's gripping me and drawing me on.'
Mary gazed at the nervous eagerness in her sister's eyes, and, in an attempt to soothe the other, murmured consolingly:
'It'll not be long till it's over now, anyway, Nessie! Don't fret yourself too much about it. Let the work go easy for a day or two.'
'How can you talk like that,' exclaimed Nessie petulantly. 'You know I've got all this ground to get over and it's most important too. This third book is not right into my head yet. I must get it in. I've I've got to drive it in like a nail so that it will stay in and never come out. I might get a question on this very thing that you're felling me to leave alone.'
'Hush, Nessie dear! Don't excite yourself,' pleaded Mary.
'It's enough to make anybody excited,' cried the other wildly. 'Here am I working the brains out of myself and you would think that all I had to do was to walk up to that university and ask for the Latta and come home with it in my hand like a stick of toffee. It's not like that at all, I tell you.'
'Wheesht, Nessie! Be calm, pettie,' soothed Mary. 'Don't upset yourself; I didn't mean anything like that.'
'You did so!' returned Nessie agitatedly. 'Everybody thinks the same thing. They think it's that easy for me because I'm so clever. They don't know the work and the toil that I've been forced to put in. It's been enough to drive me out of my mind.'
'I know though, dear,' replied Mary softly, stroking the other's brow. 'I know all about it and how you've been kept at it! Don't worry yourself though. You're getting tired and anxious. You used to be ever so confident about it. Never mind if you don't win the miserable Bursary. What does it matter!'
Nessie, however, was so strung up that no attitude her sister could have adopted would have pleased her and now she burst into tears.
'What does it matter,' she sobbed hysterically. 'That's a good one, that is, for me that's set my very heart on winning it. And to call the good hundred sovereigns that I'll get 'miserable' is enough to discourage anybody. Don't you know what Father'll do to me if I don't win it? He'll kill me.'
'He'll not do that, Nessie,' replied Mary steadily. 'I'm here now and I'll protect you from any fear of that. I'll be there when you get the result and if he tries to lay a finger on you it'll be the worse for him.'
'What could you do?' cried Nessie. 'You talk as if it was better for you to stand up to Father than for me to win the Latta.'
Mary did not reply to this ungracious speech but stood silent, soothing Nessie by gentle movements of her hands, until at last the other's sobs ceased and, drying her eyes, she remarked with a sudden composure:
'I don't know what we're goin' on about, running around in a circle like that. We've been talkin' nonsense. Of course I'll win the Latta and that's the end of it!'
'That's right, dear,' returned Mary, happy to see the other more tranquil. 'I know you will. Have you got on well to-day?'
'Splendid!' replied Nessie, in a constrained manner, strangely at variance with her words. 'Like a house on fire. I don't know what came over me then. You'll not think any more about what I said, will you, Mary?' she continued in a persuasive voice. 'Don't say a word about it to any one! I wouldn't like Father
to hear I had been so silly. Why, I'm as sure of the Bursary as I am of finishing this milk,' and she emptied the remains of the milk at a gulp.
'You'll know I'll say nothing,' answered Mary, looking at her sister perplexedly, considering with some degree of wonder this sudden change in her manner and disposition. Did Nessie really think that she would succeed, or was this attitude assumed to conceal a deeper and more secret fear that she might fail? Thinking anxiously of the immediate future that lay before her sister, Mary said slowly:
'You'll be sure to let me know the result before Father, won't you, Nessie? Let me know whenever it comes out.'
'Of course I will,' replied the other with a continuance of the same manner, but directing her eyes from her sister and looking sideways out of the window. 'We'll not know till a fortnight after the examination.'
'You're sure now,' insisted Mary. 'Say that we'll open the letter together.'
'Yes! Yes!' cried Nessie fretfully. 'Have I not told you that I would long ago. You can open it yourself, for all I care. I've promised you and I'll not break my word. You should be letting me get on instead of harping about that.'
Again Mary surveyed her sister with some uneasiness, realising how unlike her usual clinging, artless mildness was this petulant assumption of assurance, but although she felt troubled in her mind, she decided that this must be the result simply of a natural anxiety at the nearness of the examination and she said gently:
'I'll go and let you get on then, dear! But please don't tire yourself out too much. I'm anxious for you.' Then, as she picked up the empty tumbler and retreated to the door, she said tentatively: 'You're sure you wouldn't like to come out for a few minutes? I'm going out for my walk now.'
'No,' cried Nessic, with a vehement shake of her head, 'I'll not bother about it. I'll get on well and I'll be as right as the mail.' She smiled at Mary with a curious complacency she who a moment ago had been shaken by bitter sobs and whose invariable attitude towards her sister was one of utter dependency. 'Away and have your walk, woman!' she added. 'I want to have a quiet think to myself.'
'About the Euclid?' said Mary doubtfully, from the door.
'Ay! About the Euclid,' cried Nessie, with a short laugh. 'Away and don't bother me.'
Mary shut the parlour door and, as the kitchen was closed to her by its consecration to Brodie's sleep, went slowly up to her room, still bearing in her hand the tumbler which had contained Nessie's milk. She gazed at this empty glass, trying to comfort herself by the recollection of all the care which she had lately bestowed upon her sister, of the additional nourishment which she had obtained for her and induced her to take; but in spite of the reassuring nature of her thoughts she sighed, unable to dismiss from her mind the sudden outburst which had recently occurred, and in which she thought she detected still some evidence of that lack of balance which, since her return, had troubled her in Nessie. While she put on her hat and gloves to take her customary walk, she determined to maintain a closer and more careful observation upon her sister during the climax of Nessie's endeavours, which would be manifested during the coming week.
Outside, the air was warm and still, and the street deserted to that quietude which induced her on Sundays to take her stroll invariably in the afternoon, rather than in the evening, when the same road was crowded By promenading couples. At this time, too, she felt safe in the knowledge that with Brodie asleep Nessie would be immune from his hectoring attention for an hour or two, and this assurance gave her a sense of freedom which now she rarely experienced. She proceeded to the head of the road and chose, to-day, the left-hand turn, which led directly towards the distant Winton Hills that stood away from her, rendered more remote by the shimmering haze of heat which almost veiled them. This haze lay also upon the roadway, rising in faint vibrations of the air like a mirage and giving the illusion of pools of water lying wetly at a distance upon the path in front of her. But there was no wetness; everything was dry with
dust which soon covered her shoes with a white, impalpable powder and stirred in little puffs about her skirt with every step she took. The day was delicious, the country lying in a basking warmth, but it was not the hour for walking and soon the small, front curl which defied always the severity of her brush lay wisping damply against the whiteness of her brow; her paces dwindled and she felt tired With her tiredness came a returning consciousness of Nessie's strange
manner to her earlier in the afternoon, the heat all at once became overpowering, and she had made up her mind to turn back towards home when, suddenly, she observed a dogcart coming rapidly in her direction along the road. Immediately, she perceived the nature of the vehicle and the identity of the driver and, in a quick flutter of confusion, she made to turn and retreat, halted, stood indecisively for a moment, looking this way and that as
