This sounded a very grand offer indeed to Susy Hopkins, who lived in the most modest way, and had not a jewel of any sort in her possession.

“I will help you.  I will, and I can.  I know where Miss Weldon lives.  I can take you to her house.”

“But I want Ruth.”

“If she has taken Ruth home, she will be at Cassandra’s house,” said Susy.

“And you can take me there?”

“This blessed minute.”

“All right; come along.”

“When will you give me the diamond set in the brooch?”

“It isn’t a real diamond, you know.  It is an Irish diamond set in silver—­real silver.  My old nurse had it made for me, and I wear it sometimes.  I will bring it to you to school to-morrow.”

“Oh, thank you—­thank you, Miss—­I forgot your name.”

“O’Hara—­Kathleen O’Hara.”

“O’Hara is rather a difficult name to say.  May I call you Kathleen?”

“Just as you please, Susan.  It is more handy for me to say Susan than Hopkins.  As long as I am in England I must consort, I see, with all kinds of people; and if you will make yourself useful to me, I will be good to you.”

Susy turned and led the way in the direction of Cassandra Weldon’s home.  They had to walk across a very wide field, then down a narrow lane, then up a steep hill, and then into a valley.  At the bottom of the valley was a straight road, and at each side of the road were neat little houses—­small and very proper-looking.  Each house consisted of two stories, with a hall door in the middle and a sitting room on each side.  There were three windows overhead, and one or two attics in the roof.  The houses were very compact; they were new, and were called by ambitious names.  For instance, the house where the Weldons lived went by the ambitious name of Sans Souci.  All through the walk Susy chatted for the benefit of her companion.  She told Kathleen so much about her life that she was interested in spite of herself! and by the time they arrived outside Sans Souci, Kathleen’s hand was lying affectionately on her companion’s arm.

“I had best not go in, miss,” she said.  “Cassandra Weldon would never take the very least notice of me; and none of us foundation girls like her at all.”

“Well, it is extremely unfair,” said Kathleen.  “From all you have been telling me, the foundation girls must be particularly clever.  I tell you what it is:  I think I shall take to you.”

“Oh, would you, indeed, miss?” said Susy, her eyes sparkling.  “There are a hundred of us, you know, in the school.”

“That is a great number.  And Ruth Craven is really one?”

“She is, miss.  She isn’t a bit better than the rest of us.”

“And I love her already.”

“She is no better than the rest of us,” repeated Susan Hopkins.

“I have a great mind to take to you all, to make a fuss about you, and to show the others how badly they behave.”