The two girls were at about the same level of attainment in most things, for if Ulyth had greater originality, Lizzie was the more steady and plodding.
It was Ulyth's failing to take things up very hotly at first, and then grow tired of them.

She was apt to have half a dozen unfinished pieces of fancywork on hand, and her locker in the carpentry-room held several ambitious attempts that had never reached fruition.
Lizzie, as she munched her peppermint creams, turned over the pages of a volume of Dryden's poems, and made an occasional note.

Each form kept a "Calendar of Quotations" hung up in its classroom, the daily extracts for which were supplied by the girls in rotation.

It was Lizzie's turn to provide the gems for the following week, and she was hunting for something suitable.
"I wish Miss Bowes had given me Shakespeare," she said.

"I could have got heaps of bits out of my birthday-book, just suitable for the month, too.