always tell each other everything that has happened.'
'Nothing's happened,' said Sheilah and stood up. By now her mother would be unaware that she was drawing away from her caresses. 'Mother,' she broke off, 'isn't there any chance at all of my going away to boarding-school?'
'Why, Sheilah, I thought we'd settled that long ago, you and father and I together—the way we always do.'
'No, you and father settled it, and I gave in, the way we always do. But I can't stay given in. I want to go awfully, mother.'
'Don't be unreasonable, Sheilah. No school that has any standing accepts girls in the middle of the year.'
'I don't care about its standing.'
'But, Sheilah, why should you go away? A girl with a lovely home like yours?'
'I'm so tired of everything around here.'
'Then you're probably overworking, dear. Possibly you're carrying too heavy a schedule at school. I'll look into it.'
'Please don't. It isn't that. I just want to get away. That's all. Please let me. Oh, please let me.'
She was vehement again. Her voice trembled. But Mrs. Miller's serenity was not in the least disturbed.
