Alice went out to her.  The two girls kept whispering together in the passage.  Presently Alice returned to the breakfast-room, and Kathleen now noticed that her eyes were red, as though she had just been indulging in a bout of crying.

“What can be the matter?” she thought.

“Why, my dear Alice,” said her mother, looking up at this moment, “what did Cassandra want?  And what is the matter with you?  Have you had bad news?”

“Yes, mother,” answered Alice.

“But what is it, dear?”

“You will know soon enough, mother.”

“That is exactly what you said to me upstairs,” said Kathleen, driven desperate by Alice’s manner.  “I do wish you would speak out.—­Do get her to speak out, Mrs. Tennant.  She hints at something awful going to happen at school to-day.  I declare I won’t go if it is as bad as that.”

“It would be like you not to come,” said Alice.  “But I think you will come.  I don’t think you will be allowed to be absent.”

“Allowed!” said Kathleen.  “Who is going to prevent me staying away from school if I wish to?”

“The vote of the majority,” said Alice very firmly.  “Now, look here, Kathleen; don’t make a fuss.  It is wrong for the girls of the Great Shirley School to absent themselves without due reason.”

“Well, I have a headache.  I had one last night.”

“No, you had not.”

“Alice, dear, why do you speak to Kathleen like that?” said her mother.  “What is the matter with you?—­Kathleen, do keep your temper.—­Alice, I am sorry something has annoyed you so much.”

“It is past speaking about, mother.  You will understand all too soon.—­Kathleen, it is time for us to be going.”

“I am not going,” said Kathleen, “so there!”

“Kathleen, you are.”

“No.”

“Come, Kathleen; come.”

“You needn’t fuss about me; I am not coming.”

“Kathleen, dear, I think you ought to go.  Go for my sake,” said Mrs. Tennant.

Kathleen looked up then, saw the anxiety in Mrs. Tennant’s face, and her heart relented.  She was in reality not at all afraid of what might be going to happen at school.  If there was to be a fray, she desired nothing better than to be in the midst of it.

“All right,” she said, “I will go; but I won’t go yet.  I am going to be late this morning.  I can see by your manner, Alice, that I have got into disgrace.  Now, I can’t think what disgrace I have got into, unless some horrid girls have been prying and telling tales out of school.  That sort of thing I should think even the Great Shirley girls would not attempt.  Unless some one has been mean enough to act in that way, there is nothing in the world to prevent my going to school, and taking my accustomed place, and disporting myself in my usual manner.  I shall get a bad mark for being late; that is the worst that can happen to me.  I am going to be very late, so you can go on by yourself, Alice.”