ched her little bed, and
stood by its side for a moment hesitating. She did not want to pray, and
yet she felt impelled to go down on her knees. As she knelt with her
curls falling about her face, and her hands pressed to her eyes, one line
of one of her favorite poems came flashing with swiftness and power
across her memory:

"A soul which has sinned and is pardoned again."

The words filled her whole heart with a sudden sense of peace and of
great longing.

The prayer-bell rang: she rose, and, turning to Susan Drummond, said
earnestly:

"Oh, Susy, I do wish Mrs. Willis could know about our going to the
fairy-field; I do so want God to forgive me."

Susan stared in her usual dull, uncomprehending way; then she flushed a
little, and said brusquely:

"I think you have quite taken leave of your senses, Annie Forest."

Annie said no more, but at prayers in the chapel she was glad to find
herself near gentle Cecil Temple, and the words kept repeating themselves
to her all during the morning lessons:

"A soul which has sinned and is pardoned again."

Just before morning school several of the girls started and looked
distressed when they found that Mrs. Willis lingered in the room. She
stood for a moment by the English teacher's desk, said something to her
in a low voice, and then, walking slowly to her own post at the head of
the great school-room, she said suddenly:

"I want to ask you a question, Miss Drummond. Will you please just stand
up in your place in class and answer me without a moment's hesitation."

Phyllis and Nora found themselves turning very pale; Mary Price and one
or two more of the rebels also began to tremble, but Susan looked dogged
and indifferent enough as she turned her eyes toward her teacher.

"Yes, madam," she said, rising and dropping a courtesy.

"My friends, the Misses Bruce, came to call on me yesterday evening,
Susan, and told me that they saw you running very quickly on the high
road in the direction of the village. You, of course, know that you broke
a very distinct rule when you left the grounds without leave. Tell me at
once where you were going."

Susan hesitated, colored to her dullest red, and looked down. Then,
because she had no ready excuse to offer, she blurted out the truth:

"I was going to see old Betty."

"The cake-woman?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"I--I heard she was ill."

"Indeed--you may sit down, Miss Drummond. Miss Good, will y