he said, that he would see her
shamed before the quality, so all ended as happily as could be desired!

"I wouldn't tell stories like that if I were you, Pixie," said the head
girl gravely, at the end of this recital. She had not laughed as the
others had done, but looked at the little chatterbox with a grave,
steady glance. Margaret had gained for herself the title of "School-
Mother", by thinking of something better than the amusement of the
moment, and being brave enough to speak a word of warning when she saw a
girl setting out on a path which was likely to bring her into trouble.
"I wouldn't tell stories like that!" she repeated, and when the swift
"Why not?" came back, she was ready with her reply. "Because I am sure
your people would not like it. It is all right for you to tell us about
your brothers and sisters, and it was very interesting. I wish Bridgie
and Esmeralda had come to school with you; but we don't tell stories of
our home doings of which we are,"--she was about to say "ashamed," but
the child's innocent eyes restrained her--"about which we are sorry! We
keep those to ourselves."

"But--but we got the mutton! He gave us the mutton!" cried Pixie, agape
with wonder. It seemed to her an interesting and highly creditable
history, seeing that Bridgie had had the better of the butcher, and
maintained the family credit in the eyes of the neighbourhood. She
could not understand Margaret's gravity, and the half-amused, half-
pitiful glances of the older pupils.

The girl standing nearest to her put an arm round her neck, and said,
"Poor little girlie!" in such a soft, tender voice that her tears
overflowed at the moment, and she returned the embrace with startling
fervour. Pixie's emotions were all on the surface, and she could cry at
one moment and laugh at the next, with more ease than an ordinary person
could smile or sigh. When the gong sounded for tea, she went downstairs
with her arms twined fondly round the waists of two new friends, and
there was quite a quarrel among the girls, as to who should sit beside
her.

Miss Phipps was at one end of the table, and Mademoiselle, the resident
French teacher, at the other, and between them stretched a long white
space flanked by plates of bread-and-butter, and in the centre some
currant scones, and dishes of jam. These latter dainties were intended
to supply a second course when appetite had been appeased by plainer
fare, but the moment that grac