nd frightened her. She had learned a lesson in
Sefton, and dared not venture into the more respectable streets. How
could she sleep in those hot, common, close houses? Surely it would be
better for her to lie down under a cool hedgerow--there could be no real
cold on this lovely summer's night, and the hours would quickly pass, and
the time soon arrive when she must go boldly in search of Nan. She
resolved to sleep in a hayfield which took her fancy just outside the
town, and she only went into Oakley for the purpose of buying some bread
and milk.

Annie was so far fortunate as to get a refreshing draught of really good
milk from a woman who stood by a cottage door, and who gave her a piece
of girdle-cake to eat with it.

"You're one of the gypsies, my dear?" said the woman. "I saw them passing
in their caravans an hour back. No doubt you are for taking up your old
quarters in the copse, just alongside of Squire Thompson's long acre
field. How is it you are not with the rest of them, child?"

"I was late in starting," said Annie. "Can you tell me the best way to
get from here to the long acre field?"

"Oh, you take that turnstile, child, and keep in the narrow path by the
cornfields; it's two miles and a half from here as the crow flies. No,
no, my dear, I don't want your pennies; but you might humor my little
girl here by telling her fortune--she's wonderful taken by the gypsy
folk."

Annie colored painfully. The child came forward, and she crossed her hand
with a piece of silver. She looked at the little palm and muttered
something about being rich and fortunate, and marrying a prince in
disguise, and having no trouble whatever.

"Eh! but that's a fine lot, is yours, Peggy," said the gratified mother.

Peggy, however, aged nine, had a wiser head on her young shoulders.

"She didn't tell no proper fortune," she said disparagingly, when Annie
left the cottage. "She didn't speak about no crosses, and no biting
disappointments, and no bleeding wounds. I don't believe in her, I don't.
I like fortunes mixed, not all one way; them fortunes ain't natural, and
I don't believe she's no proper gypsy girl."

CHAPTER XLII.

HESTER.

At Lavender House the confusion, the terror, and the dismay were great.
For several hours the girls seemed quite to lose their heads, and just
when, under Mrs. Willis' and the other teachers' calmness and
determination, they were being restored to discipline and order, the
excitem