her mind not to go away as usual; Miss Good
was to have a holiday, and Mrs. Willis and Miss Danesbury were to look
after the school. This was felt to be an unusual, indeed unheard of,
proceeding, and the girls commented about it a good deal, and somehow,
without absolutely intending to do so, they began to settle in their own
minds that Mrs. Willis was staying in the school on account of Annie
Forest, and that in her heart of hearts she did not absolutely believe in
her innocence. Mrs. Willis certainly gave the girls no reason to come to
this conclusion; she was consistently kind to Annie, and had apparently
quite restored her to her old place in her favor. Annie was more gentle
than of old, and less inclined to get into scrapes; but the girls loved
her far less in her present unnatural condition of reserve and good
behavior than they did in her old daring and hoydenish days. Cecil Temple
always spent Easter with an old aunt who lived in a neighboring town; she
openly said this year that she did not wish to go away, but her governess
would not allow her to change her usual plans, and she left Lavender
House with a curious feeling of depression and coming trouble. As she was
getting into the cab which was to take her to the station Annie flew to
her side, threw a great bouquet of flowers which she had gathered into
her lap, and, flinging her arms tightly round her neck, whispered
suddenly and passionately:

"Oh, Cecil, believe in me."

"I--I--I don't know that I don't," said Cecil, rather lamely.

"No, Cecil, you don't--not in your heart of hearts. Neither you nor Mrs.
Willis--you neither of you believe in me from the very bottom of your
hearts; oh, it is hard!"

Annie gave vent to a little sob, sprang away from Cecil's arms, and
disappeared into a shrubbery close by.

She stayed there until the sound of the retreating cab died away in the
avenue, then, tossing back her hair, rearranging her rather tattered
garden hat, and hastily wiping some tears from her eyes, she came out
from her retreat, and began to look around her for some amusement. What
should she do? Where should she go? How should she occupy herself? Sounds
of laughter and merriment filled the air; the garden was all alive with
gay young figures running here and there. Girls stood in groups under the
horse-chestnut tree--girls walked two and two up the shady walk at the
end of the garden--little ones gamboled and rolled on the grass--a tennis
match was g