Chapter 13. A Spoke In Her Wheel

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_ CHAPTER XIII. A SPOKE IN HER WHEEL

If Betty Vivian really wished to keep her miserable secret, she had done wisely in removing the little packet from its shelter in the trunk of the old oak-tree; for of course Sibyl remembered it in the night, although Betty's wonderful story had carried her thoughts far away from such trivial matters for the time being. Nevertheless, when she awoke in the night, and thought of the fairies in the heather, and of the girl lying in the snow-bed, she thought also of Betty standing by the stump of a tree and removing something from within, looking at it, and putting it back again.

Sibyl, therefore, took the earliest opportunity of telling her special friends that there was a treasure hidden in the stump of the old tree. In short, she repeated Betty's exact action, doing so in the presence of Martha West.

Martha was a girl who invariably kept in touch with the younger girls. There are girls who in being removed from a lower to an upper school cannot stand their elevation, and are apt to be a little queer and giddy; they have not quite got their balance. Such girls could not fall into more excellent hands than those of Martha. She heard Sibyl now chatting to a host of these younger girls, and, catching Betty's name, asked immediately what it was all about. Sibyl repeated the story with much gusto.

"And Betty did look queer!" she added. "I asked her if it was a piece of wood, and she said 'Yes;' but, all the same, she didn't like me to see her. Of course she's a darling--there's no one like her; and she recovered herself in a minute, and walked with me a long way, and then suggested that I should wear the marguerites. Of course I had to go into the flower-garden to find Birchall and coax him to cut enough for me. Then I had to get Sarah Butt to help me to make the wreath, for I never made a wreath before in my life. But Sarah would do anything in the world that Betty suggested, she is so frightfully fond of her."

"We are all fond of her, I think," said Martha.

"Well, then she went off for a walk by herself, and I don't think she came in until quite late."

"You don't know anything about it," said Martha. "Now, look here, girls, don't waste your time talking rubbish. You are very low down in the school compared to Betty Vivian, and, compared to Betty Vivian, you are of no account whatever, for she is a Speciality, and therefore holds a position all her own. Love her as much as you like, and admire her, for she is worthy of admiration. But if I were you, Sibyl, I wouldn't tell tales out of school. Let me tell you frankly that you had no right to rush up to Betty when she was alone and ask her what she was doing. She was quite at liberty to thrust her hand into an old tree as often as ever she liked, and take some rubbish out, and look at it, and drop it in again. You are talking sheer folly. Do attend to your work, or you'll be late for Miss Skeene when she comes to give her lecture on English literature."

No girl could ever be offended by Martha, and the work continued happily. But during recess that day Sibyl beckoned her companions away with her; and she, followed by five or six girls of the lower fifth, visited the spot where Betty had stood on the previous evening. Betty was much taller than any of these girls, and they found when they reached the old stump that it was impossible for them to thrust their hands in. But this difficulty was overcome by Sibyl volunteering to sit on Mabel Lee's shoulders--and, if necessary, even to stand on her shoulders while the other girls held her firm--in order that she might thrust her hand into the hollow of the oak-tree. This feat was accomplished with some difficulty, but nothing whatever was brought up except withered leaves and debris and a broken piece of wood much saturated with rain.

"This must have been what she saw," said Sibyl. "I asked her if it was wood, and I think she said it was. Only, why did she look so very queer?"

The girls continued their walk, but Martha West stayed at home. She had hushed the remarks made by the younger girls that morning, nevertheless she could not get them out of her mind. Sibyl's story was circumstantial. She had described Betty's annoyance and distress when they met, Betty's almost confusion. She had then said that it was Betty who suggested that she was to wear the marguerites.

Now Martha, in her heart of hearts, thought this suggestion of Betty's very far-fetched; and being a very shrewd, practical sort of girl, there came an awful moment when she almost made up her mind that Betty had done this in order to get rid of Sibyl. Why did she want to get rid of her? Martha began to believe that she was growing quite uncharitable.

At that moment, who should appear in sight, who should utter a cry of satisfaction and seat herself cosily by Martha's side, but Fanny Crawford!

"This is nice," said Fanny with a sigh. "I did so want to chat with you, Martha. I so seldom see you quite all by yourself."

"I am always to be seen if you really wish to find me, Fanny," replied Martha. "I am never too busy not to be delighted to see my friends."

"Well, of course we are friends, being Specialities," was Fanny's remark.

"Yes," answered Martha, "and I think we were friends before. I always liked you just awfully, Fan."

"Ditto, ditto," replied Fanny. "It is curious," she continued, speaking in a somewhat sententious voice, "how one is drawn irresistibly to one girl and repelled by another. Now, I was always drawn to you, Matty; I always liked you from the very, very first. I was more than delighted when I heard that you were to become one of us."

Martha was silent. It was not her habit to praise herself, nor did she care to hear herself praised. She was essentially downright and honest. She did not think highly of herself, for she knew quite well that she had very few outward charms.

Fanny, however, who was the essence of daintiness, looked at her now with blue-gray eyes full of affection. "Martha," she said, "I have such a lot to talk over! What did you think of last night?"

"I thought it splendid," replied Martha.

"And Betty--what did you think of Betty?"

"Your cousin? She is very dramatic," said Martha.

"Yes, that is it," replied Fanny; "she is dramatic in everything. I doubt if she is ever natural or her true self."

"Fanny!"

"Oh, dear old Martha, don't be so frightfully prim! I don't intend to break Rule No. I. Of course I love Betty. As a matter of fact, I have loved her before any of you set eyes on her. She is my very own cousin, and but for father's strong influence would never have been at this school at all. Still, I repeat that she is dramatic and hardly ever herself."

"She puzzles me, I confess," said Martha, a little dubiously; "but then," she added, "I can't help yielding to her charm."

"That is it," said Fanny--"her charm. But look down deep into your heart, Martha, and tell me if you think her charm healthy."

"Well, I see nothing wrong about it." Then Martha became abruptly silent.

"For instance," said Fanny, pressing a little closer to her companion, "why ever did she make your special protege Sibyl Ray such a figure of fun last night?"

"I thought Sibyl looked rather pretty."

"When she entered the room, Martha?"

"Oh no; she was quite hideous then, poor little thing! But Betty soon put that all right; she had very deft fingers."

"I know," said Fanny. "But what I want to have explained is this: why Betty, a girl who is more or less worshiped by half the girls in the school, should trouble herself with such a very unimportant person as Sibyl Ray, I want to know. Can you tell me?"

"Even if I could tell you, remembering Rule No. I., I don't think I would," said Martha.

Fanny sat very still for a minute or two. Then she got up. "I don't see," she remarked, "why Rule No. I. should make us unsociable each with the other. The very object of our club is that we should have no secrets, but should be quite open and above-board. Now, Martha West, look me straight in the face!"

"I will, Fanny Crawford. What in the world are you accusing me of?"

"Of keeping something back from me which, as a member of the Specialities, you have no right whatever to do."

A slow, heavy blush crept over Martha's face. She got up. "I am going to look over my German lesson," she said. "Fraeulein will want me almost immediately." Then she left Fanny, who stared after her retreating figure.

"I will find out," thought Fanny, "what Martha is keeping to herself. That little horror Betty will sow all kinds of evil seed in the school if I don't watch her. I did wrong to promise her, by putting my finger to my lips, that I would be silent with regard to her conduct. I see it now. But if Betty supposes that she can keep her secret to herself she is vastly mistaken. Hurrah, there's Sibyl Ray! Sib, come here, child; I want to have a chat with you."

It was a bitterly cold and windy day outside; there were even sleet-showers falling at intervals. Winter was coming on early, and with a vengeance.

"Why have you come in?" asked Fanny.

"It's so bitterly cold out, Fanny."

"Well, sit down now you are in. You are a nice little thing, you know, Sib, although at present you are very unimportant. You know that, of course?"

"Yes," said Sibyl; "I am told it nearly every hour of the day." She spoke in a wistful tone. "Sometimes," she added, "I could almost wish I were back in the lower school, where I was looked up to by the smaller girls and had a right good time."

"We can never go back, Sib; that is the law of life."

"Of course not."

"Well, sit down and talk to me. Now, I have something to say to you. Do you know that I am devoured with curiosity, and all about a small girl like yourself?"

"Oh Fanny," said Sibyl, immensely flattered, "I am glad you take an interest in me!"

"I must be frank," said Fanny. "Up to the present I have taken no special interest in you, except in so far as you are Martha's protege; but when I saw you in that extraordinary dress last night I singled you out at once as a girl with original ideas. Do look me in the face, Sib!"

Sibyl turned. Fanny's face was exquisitely chiselled. Each neat little feature was perfect. Her eyes were large and well-shaped, her brows delicately marked, her complexion pure lilies and roses; her hair was thick and smooth, and yet there were little ripples about it which gave it, even in its schoolgirl form, a look of distinction. Sibyl, on the contrary, was an undersized girl, with the fair, colorless face, pale-blue eyes, the lack of eyebrows and eyelashes, the hair thin and small in quantity, which make the most hopeless type of all as regards good looks.

"I wonder, Sib," said Fanny, "if you, you little mite, are really eaten up with vanity?"

"I--vain! Why should you say so?"

"I only thought it from your peculiar dress last night."

Sibyl colored and spoke eagerly. "Oh, but that wasn't me at all; it was that quite too darling Betty!"

"Do you mean my cousin, Betty Vivian?"

"Of course, who else?"

"Well, what had she to do with it?"

"I will tell you if you like, Fanny. She didn't expect me to keep it a secret. I met her when I was out----"

"You--met Betty--when you were out?"

"Yes." There was a kind of reserve in Sibyl's tone which made Fanny scent a possible mystery.

"Where did you meet her?" was the next inquiry.

"Well, she was standing by the stump of an old tree which is hollow inside. It is just at the top of the hill by the bend, exactly where the hill goes down towards the 'forest primeval.'"

"Can't say I remember it," said Fanny. "Go on, Sib. So Betty was standing there?"

"Yes, oh yes. I saw her in the distance. I was expecting to meet Clarice and Mary Moss; but they failed me, although they had faithfully promised to come. So when I saw Betty I could not resist running up to her; but when I got quite close I stood still."

"Well, you stood still. Why?"

"Oh Fan, she was doing such a funny thing! She was bending down and looking over into the hollow of the tree. Then, all of a sudden, she thrust her hand in--far down--and took something out of the tree and looked at it. I could just catch sight of what it was----"

"Yes, go on. What was it? Don't be afraid of me, Sib. I have a lot of chocolates in my pocket that I will give you presently."

"Oh thank you, Fanny! It is nice to talk to you. I couldn't see very distinctly what she had in her hand, only she was staring at it, and staring at it; and then she dropped it in again, right down into the depths of the tree; and I saw her bending more than ever, as though she were covering it up."

"But you surely saw what it was like?"

"It might have been anything--I wasn't very near then. I ran up to her, and asked her what it was."

"And what did she say?"

"Oh, she said it was a piece of wood, and that she had dropped it into the tree."

Fanny sat very still. A coldness came over her. She was nearly stunned with what she considered the horror of Betty's conduct.

"What is the matter?" asked Sibyl.

"Nothing at all, Sib; nothing at all. And then, what happened?"

"Betty was very cross at being disturbed."

"That is quite probable," said Fanny with a laugh.

"She certainly was, and I--I--I am afraid I annoyed her; but after a minute or two she got up and allowed me to walk with her. We walked towards the house, and she told me all kinds of funny stories; she really made me scream with laughter. She is the jolliest girl! Then, all of a sudden, we came in sight of the flower-gardens; and she asked me what I was going to wear last night, and I told her about the green chiffon dress which auntie had sent me; and then she suggested a wreath of small marguerites, and told me to get Birchall to cut some for me. She said they would be very becoming, and of course I believed her. There's nothing in my story, is there, Fanny?"

"That depends on the point of view," answered Fanny.

"I don't understand you."

"Nor do I mean you to, kiddy."

"Well, there's one thing more," continued Sibyl, who felt much elated at being allowed to talk to one of the most supercilious of all the Specialities. "I couldn't get out of my head about Betty and the oak-tree; so just now--a few minutes ago--I got some of my friends to come with me, and we went to the oak-tree, and I stood on Mabel Lee's shoulder, and I poked and poked amongst the debris and rubbish in the hollow of the trunk, and there was nothing there at all--nothing except just a piece of wood. So, of course, Betty spoke the truth--it was wood."

"How many chocolates would you like?" was Fanny's rejoinder.

"Oh Fanny, are you going to give me some?"

"Yes, if you are a good girl, and don't tell any one that you repeated this very harmless and uninteresting little story to me about my Cousin Betty. Of course she is my cousin, and I don't like anything said against her."

"But I wasn't speaking against darling Betty!" Sibyl's eyes filled with tears.

"Of course not, monkey; but you were telling me a little tale which might be construed in different ways."

"Yes, yes; only I don't understand. Betty had a perfect right to poke her hand into the hollow of the tree, and to bring up a piece of wood, and look at it, and put it back again; and I don't understand your expression, Fanny, that it all depends on the point of view."

"Keep this to yourself, and I will give you some more chocolates sometime," was Fanny's answer. "I can be your friend as well as Martha--that is, if you are nice, and don't repeat every single thing you hear. The worst sin in a schoolgirl--at least, the worst minor sin--is to be breaking confidences. No schoolgirl with a shade of honor in her composition would ever do that, and certainly no girl trained at Haddo Court ought to be noted for such a characteristic. Now, Sibyl, you are no fool; and, when I talk to you, you are not to repeat things. I may possibly want to talk to you again, and then there'll be more chocolates and--and--other things; and as you are in the upper school, and are really quite a nice girl, I shouldn't be at all surprised if I invited you to have tea with me in my bedroom some night--oh, not quite yet, but some evening not far off. Now, off with you, and let me see how well you can keep an innocent little confidence between you and me!"

Sibyl ran off, munching her chocolates, wondering a good deal at Fanny's manner, but in the excitement of her school-life, soon forgetting both her and Betty Vivian. For, after all, there was no story worth thinking about. There was nothing in the hollow of the old tree but the piece of wood, and nothing--nothing in the wide world--could be made interesting out of that.

Meanwhile, Fanny thought for a time. The first great entertainment of the Specialities was over. Betty was now a full-blown member, and as such must be treated in a manner which Fanny could not possibly have assumed towards her before this event took place. Fanny blamed herself for her weakness in consenting to keep Betty's secret. She had done so on the spur of the moment, influenced by the curious look in the girl's eyes, and wondering if she would turn to her with affection if she, Fanny, were so magnanimous. But Betty had not turned to her with either love or affection. Betty was precisely the Betty she had been before she joined the club. It is true she was very much sought after and consulted on all sorts of matters, and her name was whispered in varying notes of admiration among the girls, and she was likely (unless a spoke were put in her wheel) to rise to one of the highest positions in the great school. Betty had committed one act of flagrant wickedness. Fanny was not going to mince matters; she could not call it by any other name. There were no extenuating circumstances, in her opinion, to excuse this act of Betty's. The fact that she had first stolen the packet, and then told Sir John Crawford a direct lie with regard to it, was the sort of thing that Fanny could never get over.

"One act of wickedness leads to another," thought Fanny. "Contrary to my advice, my beseechings, she has joined our club. She has taken a vow which she cannot by any possibility keep, which she breaks every hour of every day; for she holds a secret which, according to Rule No. I., the other Specialities ought to know. What was she doing by the old stump? What did she take out and look at so earnestly? It was not a piece of wood. That idea is sheer nonsense."

Fanny thought and thought, and the more she thought the more uncomfortable did she grow. "It is perfectly horrible!" she kept saying to herself. "I loathe myself for even thinking about it, but I am afraid I must put a spoke in her wheel. The whole school may be contaminated at this rate. If Betty could do what she did she may do worse, and there isn't a girl in the place who isn't prepared to worship her. Oh, of course I'm not jealous; why should I be? I should be a very unworthy member of the Specialities if I were. Nevertheless----"

Just then Sylvia and Hetty Vivian walked through the great recreation-hall arm in arm.

Fanny called them to her. "Where's Betty?" she asked.

"She told us she'd be very busy for half an hour in our room, and that then she was going downstairs to have a sort of conference--with you, I suppose, Fanny, and the rest of the Specialities."

Sylvia gave a very impatient shrug of her shoulders.

"Why do you look like that, Sylvia?" asked Fanny.

"Well, the fact is, Hetty and I do hate our own Betty belonging to your club. Whenever we want her now she is engaged; and she has such funny talk all about committee meetings and private conferences in your odious sitting-room. We don't like it a bit. We much, much preferred our Betty before she joined the Specialities."

"All the same," said Fanny, "you must have felt very proud of your Betty last night."

Hester laughed. "She wasn't half her true self," said the girl. "Oh, of course she was wonderful, and much greater than others; but I wish you could have heard her tell stories in Scotland. We used to have just one blink of light from the fire, and we sat and held each other's hands, and I tell you Betty made us thrill."

"Well, now that you have reminded me," said Fanny, rising as she spoke, "I must go and attend that committee meeting. I really forgot it, so I am greatly obliged to you girls for reminding me. And you mustn't be jealous of your sister; that is a very wrong feeling."

The girls laughed and ran off, while Fanny slowly walked down the recreation-hall and then ascended some stairs, until she found herself in that particularly cosy and bright sitting-room which was set apart for the Specialities.

Martha West was there, also Susie Rushworth, the two Bertrams, and Olive Repton. But Margaret Grant had not yet appeared, nor had Betty Vivian. Fanny took her seat near Olive. The girls began to chat, and the subject of last night's entertainment was discussed pretty fully. Most of the girls present agreed that it was remarkably silly of Sibyl Ray to wear marguerites in her hair, that they were very sorry for her, and hoped she would not be so childish again. It was just at that moment that Margaret Grant appeared, and immediately afterwards Betty Vivian. The minutes of the last committee meeting were read aloud, and then Margaret turned and asked the girls if they were thoroughly satisfied with the entertainment of the previous night. They all answered in the affirmative except Fanny, who was silent. Neither did Betty speak, for she had been the chief contributor to the entertainment.

"Well," continued Margaret, "I may as well say at once that I was delighted. Betty, I didn't know that you possessed so great a gift. I wish you would improvise as you did last night one evening for Mrs. Haddo."

Betty turned a little whiter than usual. Then she said slowly, "Alone with her--and with you--I could."

"I think she would love it," said Margaret. "It would surprise her just to picture the scene as you threw yourself into it last night."

"I could do it," said Betty, "alone with her and with you."

There was not a scrap of vanity in Betty's manner. She spoke seriously, just as one who, knowing she possesses a gift, accepts it and is thankful.

"I couldn't get it out of my head all night," continued Margaret, "more particularly that part where the angels came. It was a very beautiful idea, Betty dear, and I congratulate you on being able to conjure up such fine images in your mind."

It was with great difficulty that Fanny could suppress her feelings, but the next instant an opportunity occurred for her to give vent to them.

"Now," said Margaret, "as the great object of our society is in all things to be in harmony, I want to put it to the vote: How did the entertainment go off last night?"

"I liked every single thing about it," said Susie Rushworth; "the supper, the games, and, above all things, the story-telling."

The same feeling was expressed in more or less different words by each girl in succession, until Fanny's turn came.

"And you, Fanny--what did you think?"

"I liked the supper and the games, of course," said Fanny.

"And the story-telling, Fanny? You ought to be proud of having such a gifted cousin."

"I didn't like the story-telling, and Betty knows why I didn't like it."

The unmistakable look of hatred on Fanny's face, the queer flash in her eyes as she glanced at Betty, and Betty's momentary quiver as she looked back at her, could not fail to be observed by each girl present.

"Fanny, I am astonished at you!" said Margaret Grant in a voice of marked displeasure.

"You asked a plain question, Margaret. I should have said nothing if nothing had been asked; but you surely don't wish me to commit myself to a lie?"

"Oh no, no!" said Margaret. "But sisterly love, and--and your own cousin too!"

"I want to say something in private to Betty Vivian; and I would earnestly beg of you, Margaret, not to propose to Mrs. Haddo that Betty should tell her any story until after I have spoken. I have my reasons for doing this; and I do not think, all things considered, that I am really breaking Rule No. I. in adopting this course of action."

"This is most strange!" said Margaret.

Betty rose and came straight up to Fanny. "Where and when do you want to speak to me, Fanny?" she asked.

"I will go with you now," said Fanny.

"Then I think," said Margaret, "our meeting has broken up. The next meeting of the Specialities will be held in Olive Repton's room on Thursday next. There are several days between now and then; but to-morrow at four o'clock I mean to give a tea to all the club here. I invite you, one and all, to be present; and afterwards we can talk folly to our hearts' content. Listen, please, girls: the next item on my programme is that we invite dear Mr. Fairfax to tea with us, and ask him a few questions with regard to the difficulties we find in the reading of Jeremy Taylor's 'Holy Living.'"

"I don't suppose, Margaret, it is absolutely necessary for me to attend that meeting?" said Betty.

"Certainly not, Betty. No one is expected to attend who does not wish to."

"You see, I have no difficulties to speak about," said Betty with a light laugh.

Margaret glanced at her with surprise.

"Come, Betty," said Fanny; and the two left the room.

"Where am I to go to?" asked Betty when they found themselves outside.

"Out, if you like," said Fanny.

"No, thank you. The day is very cold."

"Then come to my room with me, will you, Betty?"

"No," said Betty, "I don't want to go to your room."

"I must see you somewhere by yourself," said Fanny. "I have something important to say to you."

"Oh, all right then," said Betty, shrugging her shoulders. "Your room will do as well as any other place. Let's get it over."

The girls ran upstairs. They presently entered Fanny's bedroom, which was a small apartment, but very neat and cheerful. It was next door to the Vivians' own spacious one.

The moment they were inside Betty turned and faced Fanny. "Do you always intend to remain my enemy, Fanny?" she asked.

"Far from that, Betty; I want to be your truest friend."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't talk humbug! If you are my truest friend you will act as such. Now, what is the matter--what is up?"

"I will tell you."

"I am all attention," said Betty. "Pray begin."

"I hurt your feelings downstairs just now by saying that I did not care for your story-telling."

"You didn't hurt them in the least, for I never expected you to care. The story-telling wasn't meant for you."

"But I must mention now why I didn't care," continued Fanny, speaking as quickly as she could. "Had you been the Betty the rest of the school think you I could have lost myself, too, in your narrative, and I could have seen the picture you endeavored to portray. But knowing you as you are, Betty Vivian, I could only look down into your wicked heart----"

"What an agreeable occupation!" said Betty with a laugh which she tried to make light, but did not quite succeed.

Fanny was silent.

After a minute Betty spoke again. "Do you spend all your time, Fanny, gazing into my depraved heart?"

"Whenever I think of you, Betty--and I confess I do think of you very often--I remember the sin you have sinned, the lack of repentance you have shown, and, above all things, your daring spirit in joining our club. It is true that when you joined--after all my advice to you to the contrary, my beseeching of you to withstand this temptation--I gave you to understand that I would be silent. But my conscience torments me because of that tacit promise I gave you. Nevertheless I will keep it. But remember, you are in danger. You know perfectly well where the missing packet is. It is--or was, at least--in the hollow stump of the old oak-tree at the top of the hill, and you positively told Sibyl Ray a lie about it when she saw you looking at it yesterday. Afterwards, in order to divert her attention from yourself, you sent her to gather marguerites to make a wreath for her hair--a most ridiculous thing for the child to wear. What you did afterwards I don't know, and don't care to inquire. But, Betty, the fact is that you, instead of being an inspiring influence in this school, will undermine it--will ruin its morals. You are a dangerous girl, Betty Vivian; and I tell you so to your face. You are bound--bound to come to grief. Now, I will say no more. I leave it to your conscience what to do and what not to do. There are some fine points about you; and you could be magnificent, but you are not. There, I have spoken!"

"Thank you, Fanny," replied Betty in a very gentle tone. She waited for a full minute; then she said, "Is that all?"

"Yes, that is all."

Betty went away to her own room. As soon as ever she entered, she went straight to the looking-glass and gazed at her reflection. She then turned a succession of somersaults from one end of the big apartment to the other. Having done this, she washed her face and hands in ice-cold water, rubbed her cheeks until they glowed, brushed her black hair, and felt better. She ran downstairs, and a few minutes later was in the midst of a very hilarious group, who were all chatting and laughing and hailing Betty Vivian as the best comrade in the wide world.

Betty was not only brilliant socially; at the same time she had fine intellectual powers. She was the delight of her teachers, for she could imbibe knowledge as a sponge absorbs water. On this particular day she was at her best during a very difficult lesson at the piano from a professor who came from London. Betty had always a passionate love of music, and to-day she revelled in it. She had been learning one of Chopin's Nocturnes, and now rendered it with exquisite pathos. The professor was delighted, and in the midst of the performance Mrs. Haddo came into the music-room. She listened with approval, and when the girl rose, said, "Well done!"

Another girl took her place; and Betty, running up to Mrs. Haddo, said, "Oh, may I speak to you?"

"Yes, dear; what is it? Come to my room for a minute, if you wish, Betty."

"It isn't important enough for that. Dear Mrs. Haddo, it's just that I am mad for a bit of frolic."

"Frolic, my child! You seem to have plenty."

"Not enough--not enough--not nearly enough for a wild girl of Aberdeenshire, a girl who has lived on the moors and loved them."

"What do you want, dear child?"

"I want most awfully, with your permission, to go with my two sisters Sylvia and Hester to have tea with the Mileses. I want to pet those dogs again, and I want to go particularly badly between now and next Thursday."

"And why especially between now and next Thursday?"

"Ah, I can't quite give you the reason. There is a reason. Please--please--please say yes!"

"It is certainly against my rules."

"But, dear Mrs. Haddo, it isn't against your rules if you give leave," pleaded the girl.

"You are very clever at arguing, Betty. I certainly have liberty to break rules in individual cases. Well, dear child, it shall be so. I will send a line to Mrs. Miles to ask her to expect you and your sisters to-morrow. A servant shall accompany you, and will call again later on. You can only stay about one hour at the farm. To-morrow is a half-holiday, so it will be all right."

"Oh, how kind of you!" said Betty.

But again Mrs. Haddo noticed that Betty avoided looking into her eyes. "Betty," she said, "this is a small matter--my yielding to the whim of an impetuous girl in whom I take an interest. But, my dear child, I have to congratulate you. You made a marvellous success--a marvellous success--last night. Several of the girls in the school have spoken of it, and in particular dear Margaret Grant. I wonder if you would improvise for me some evening?"

"Gladly!" replied Betty. And now for one minute her brilliant eyes were raised and fixed on those of Mrs. Haddo. "Gladly," she repeated--and she shivered slightly--"if you will hear me after next Thursday." _

Read next: Chapter 14. Tea At Farmer Miles's

Read previous: Chapter 12. A Very Eventful Day

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