ked Beatrice Wynne, who had joined the group.

"Of course it is," said Patty mysteriously. "One of those things you
can't explain and wouldn't if you could."

"Oh, do tell me!" implored Beatrice.

"No!" said Patty, shaking her head solemnly. "A secret is a secret, and
you mustn't ask questions."

"I'll find out some day," returned Beatrice. "I love discovering
secrets."

"Don't be too sure of mine," said Patty. "You won't find it out,
because----"

But here she shook her head with the air of a sphinx, and, leaving her
sentence unfinished, took up her music-case and went to practise.

Now, Patty had only been having a little fun with Beatrice. She had
meant to say, "because there is no secret at all", and to have explained
what was really the fact, that she had helped her brother Basil so often
at home to prepare his Latin translation that the earlier part of _De
Bello Gallico_ was already familiar to her. Thinking, however, that it
would be possible to continue the joke, and that it would be amusing to
excite Beatrice's curiosity over nothing, she had preserved her mystery
for the present, intending to explain it on some future occasion. In
view of events which followed, it proved a most unfortunate occurrence,
and one which she afterwards bitterly regretted. Her innocent remark led
to conclusions quite unforeseen, and so disastrous that she would have
given much if her words had never been uttered; but once spoken they
were impossible to recall, and the mischief was done. Blind as yet to
what was to happen in the future, she spent half an hour at the piano,
and then went to the classroom to fetch a book which she had forgotten.
It was a pouring wet afternoon, and as it was quite impossible for the
girls to play their usual game of hockey, they were allowed to amuse
themselves as they liked until tea-time. As a rule the classroom was
empty between three and four o'clock, and Patty opened the door,
expecting to find the room unoccupied. To her astonishment, Muriel was
seated there, busily engaged in writing, and evidently copying something
from a book which she held on her knee. She started guiltily at her
cousin's entrance, as if she were being caught in some act which she did
not wish to be discovered, turned crimson, and, thrusting the book into
her desk, banged down the lid, and pretended to be tidying the contents
of her pencil-box. It was so unusual to find Muriel at work out of
school hours, that Patty cou