THE LISTS.
There was no doubt about it. The lists were up.
As the girls passed through the bar from Vigo Street, they could see
a little knot of men, silent and eager, gathered on the steps in
front of the notice-case. Those who had secured a good position were
leisurely entering sundry jottings in their note-books; those behind
were straining their eyes, straining every muscle in their bodies, in
the endeavour to ascertain the one all-important fact.
"I told you we should have waited," Mona said quietly, striving to
make the most of a somewhat limited stock of breath.
"If you tell me the name of the person you are interested in, perhaps
I can help you," said a tall man who was standing beside them.
"Oh, thank you," Mona smiled pleasantly. "We can wait. We--are
interested in--in several people."
He stood aside to let them pass in front of him, and in a few minutes
their turn came.
"Second Division!" ejaculated Lucy, in mingled relief and disgust, as
she came to her own name. "Thank heaven even for that! Just let me
take a note of the others. Now for the Honours list, and Mona
Maclean!"
The Honours list was all too short, and a few seconds were sufficient
to convince them----
"Oh!" burst involuntarily from Lucy's lips, as the truth forced
itself upon her.
"Hush!" said Mona hastily, in a low voice. "It is all right. Come
along."
She hurried Lucy down the steps, past the postoffice, and into Regent
Street.
"You know, dear, there are those confounded telegrams to be sent
off," said Lucy deprecatingly.
"Yes, yes, I know. There is no hurry. Let me think."
They strolled along in the bright sunshine, but Mona felt as cold as
lead. She did not believe that she had failed. There must be some
mistake. They had misspelt her name, perhaps, or possibly omitted it
by accident. They would correct the mistake to-morrow. It could not
be that she had really failed again. After all, was she sure that
her name was not there?
"Lucy," she said at last, "do you mind going back with me to the
University, and glancing over the lists again?"
"Yes, do. We must have made a mistake. It is simply ridiculous."
But in her heart of hearts she knew that they had not made a mistake.
The little crowd had almost dispersed when they returned, and there
was nothing to prevent a quiet and thorough study of the lists.
"It is infamous," said Lucy, "simply infamous! Small credit it is to
me to have passed when that is all the examiners know of their work!"
"Nonsense! It's all right. You know I had my weak subject. Come."
"Will you wait here while I send off the telegrams?"
"No, I will come with you."
They passed out of the heat and glare into the dusty little shop, and
Mona leaned her elbow wearily on the counter. She had begun to
believe it now, but not to realise it in the least. "How horribly I
shall be suffering to-morrow!" she thought, with a shiver of dread.
"Weal and woe!" she said, smiling, as she read the telegrams Lucy had
scribbled. "Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall
be taken and the other left."
"_Don't_," said Lucy, with a little stamp of her foot. For the
moment she was suffering more than Mona.
They walked home in silence to the house in Gower Street.
"Come in to tea? No? Well, good-bye, dear. Take care of yourself.
My love and duty to your father and mother. Write to me here."
She nodded brightly, opened the door with her latch-key, and entered
the cool dark house.
Very slowly she dragged herself up to her pretty sitting-room, and
shut the door. She winced as her eye fell on the old familiar
sights--Quain, and Foster, and Mitchell Bruce, the Leitz under its
glass shade, and the box of what she was pleased to dub 'ivory toys.'
Then her eye fell on her own reflection in the draped mirror, and she
walked straight up to the white, strong, sensitive face.
"Who cares?" she said defiantly. "Not you nor I! What does it
matter? _Ay de mi_! What does anything mean? What is success or
failure after all?"
From which soliloquy you will be able to form a pretty definite idea
of my heroine's age.