"Well, I like that, I declare!" was the sharp retort. "Perhaps you include
_me_ among those you hate, and if that is the case, Toinette Reeve, you
may just do as you like; I don't care a straw."

Ordinarily Toinette's reply would have been as sharp as Cicely's, but this
time she just looked at her with her big eyes--eyes suspiciously bright,
as though tears lay not far back of them--and walked away, leaving Cicely
to wonder what had come over her.

"Well, I never!" was her rather vague comment. "I don't see what has come
over Toinette since that last flareup. Mercy knows, we've had so many that
we all ought to be used to them by this time. She has acted as though she
were sorry that that horrid Grace was sent off earlier than the others,
and I'm sure she has as much reason to be glad of it as any of us have.
She did nothing but tell tales about all of us, and peep and spy upon her
more than anyone else. Miss Carter would never have found out about half
the things she did if it hadn't been for Grace, and we could have had no
end of fun," and after this rather prolonged monologue Cicely went to join
the other girls.

Meanwhile Toinette had drawn the hood of her cape over her head and
strolled down to the lower end of the garden, where a rustic summer-house
not far from the gate afforded a quiet little nook in which to indulge
one's fancies, whether pleasant or painful. Curling herself up in one
corner, she rested her cheek upon her arm, which she had thrown over the
railing, and looked down the road toward the railway station.

Although a very beautiful one, it was a sad, wistful young face which
turned toward the sunshine and shadows dancing upon the road. Poor little
Toinette, now is the moment in which the mother-love you are unconsciously
longing for would make the world anew for you. If, as you sit there, a
gentle form and face could creep up quietly, slip an arm about your waist
as she takes her seat beside you, and ask in the tender tone that only
mothers use: "Well, Sweetheart, what is troubling you? Tell mother all
about it, and let us see if there is not a sunny lining to the dark cloud
that is casting its unpleasant shadow over this cozy nook."

Where is the daughter who could resist it? It would not be many minutes
before the head would find a happy resting-place upon the shoulder beside
it, and all the little trials and troubles--trials so very real and very
appalling to young hearts--would be put into