girls would get on all right together, and that Blanche and
Elvira would do all they could to make Margaret happy.

'And I am so thankful,' mamma went on, 'that the poor child is none the
worse for her adventures, and able to travel back with us to-day. And I
can never, never be grateful enough to Mrs. Wylie and her niece for
their goodness to you. Miss Wylie is perfectly sweet.'

Just as she said this the door opened and Beryl came in, leading
Margaret with her. Mamma, of course, had already seen them upstairs,
before she saw us.

Margaret looked pale, naturally, paler than usual, I thought, and she
never was rosy in those days, though she is now. But she seemed very
happy and smiling, and she was not coughing at all. And another thing
that pleased me, was that she came round and stood by mamma's chair, as
if she already felt quite at home with her.

Beryl drew a chair close to them and sat down.

'I was just saying,' said mamma, 'that we shall never be able to thank
you enough, dear Miss Wylie, for your goodness to these three.'

'I am so glad, so _very_ glad,' said Beryl, in her nice hearty sort of
way, 'to have been of use. It was really quite a pleasant excitement
last night--when it all turned out well, and Margaret was clever enough
not to get ill. But please don't call me Miss Wylie. You have known dear
old auntie so long--and she counts me almost like her own child. Do call
me "Beryl."'

And from that time she has always been 'Beryl' to us all.

They, the Wylies, made us stay to luncheon. It was just about time for
it by this. We did not see Mr. Wylie again, though he sent polite
messages to mamma, and was very kind about it all.

And Mrs. Wylie came in to luncheon, and petted us all round, and said
that we must _all_--Blanche and Elvira, and Clement too, if he wasn't
too big, come to have tea with her, as soon as she got back to Rock
Terrace.

We thanked her, of course. At least Peterkin and I did, but I noticed
that Margaret got rather red and did not say anything except 'thank you'
very faintly. She was still half afraid of finding herself again where
she had been so unhappy, and indeed it took a good while, and a good
deal of quiet talking too, to get it _quite_ out of her head about Miss
Bogle being a witch who was trying to 'enchanter' her, as her dear
'Perkins' (she calls him 'Perkins' to this day) would persist in saying.

Mrs. Wylie noticed her manner too, I fancy. For she went on to say,