it “fun.”  Now, with her eyes and ears and heart open, through Miss Vincent’s influence, the fun took on a different aspect.  But what—­what ought she to do?  What could she do then?  She might slip out and offer her place to Cordelia.  But the girls, and Alice—­Alice specially—­would be so angry.  Oh, no, no, she couldn’t; it wouldn’t do to brave them like that!  Looking up as she came to this conclusion, she saw Cordelia standing all alone, her face flushed with anger or mortification, perhaps both.

“If only one of them had thought to say a kind word to me!” flashed again through Eva’s mind.

“Go on, go on; what are you lagging for?” whispered Alice, as Eva’s pace faltered here.

Eva’s eyes were fixed upon Cordelia, who had crossed the room and was going towards the door.

“Go on, go on; you are stopping us all!” exclaimed Alice, impatiently.

But with a sudden supreme effort Eva flung away her cowardice, and dashed off the track, crying, “Cordelia!  Cordelia!”

Cordelia turned her head a moment, yet without staying her steps.

Eva sprang forward and put out her hand, crying again, “Cordelia!  Cordelia!”

The runners had all stopped with one accord, as Eva sprang forward.  What was it, what was she going to do, to say, to Cordelia?  Even Alice and Janey, who knew more than the others what was in Eva’s mind,—­even they wondered what she was going to do, to say.  And when in the next instant she cried breathlessly, “We—­I—­didn’t mean to crowd you out; it—­it wasn’t fair; and—­and you’ll come back and take my place, Cordelia, won’t you?” they, even Alice and Janey, forgot to be angry; forgot everything at the moment in their astonishment and an involuntary admiration for Eva’s courage in daring to do as she did—­against them all!  What Alice might have said or done when that moment had gone, and her mortification at Eva’s disregard of her opinion had had chance to start afresh, it is impossible to tell, for before that could take place something very unexpected happened, and this was a most unlooked-for action on Cordelia’s part.  They all looked to see her turn with one of her haughty, or what Alice and Janey called her uppish, independent glances upon Eva, and reject at once her appeal and offer.  Instead of that—­instead of coldness and haughty independence—­they saw her, they heard her, suddenly give a shuddering, sobbing sigh, and then, dropping her face into her hands, break down utterly in a paroxysm of tears,—­not tears of anger, of violence of any kind, but tears that, like the shuddering, sobbing sigh, seemed to come from a sore heart after long repression.

“Oh, Cordelia!  Cordelia!” burst out Eva, putting her arm about Cordelia, “don’t, don’t cry.”