mond's method had worked well. She was
very different from the ill-disciplined girl who had arrived at the
Grange last September. The pleasant but carefully ordered regime seemed
quite to have counteracted her aunt's injudicious management, and she
would have been utterly ashamed now of behaviour in which a year ago she
had gloried. This improvement was largely due to Mabel's influence. The
latter's implicit faith in her began to rouse a desire to become
actually what her friend believed her to be. She conquered many little
weaknesses, lest Mabel should notice them. She had soon found that a
cross word or an unkind speech, the evasion of a rule, or the shirking
of some small duty, would bring a look of puzzled surprise to the
latter's face; and rather than that Mabel should be disappointed in her,
she kept a tight hand on herself, and would repress anything of which
her friend did not approve. It was not the loftiest of motives, but it
was the first time in her life that Aldred had ever really tried to join
the ranks of those who are striving upwards, and even a faint-hearted
effort is better than none at all.

There are occasionally people in this world who seem to have the faculty
of drawing the very best out of those with whom they come in contact.
They create their own atmosphere, and by the strength of their winning
personalities rouse all the sleeping good in others. Such a friend was
Mabel, and Aldred, despite her false position, could not fail to be
influenced by daily living with a character so much sweeter and more
self-controlled than her own. Though she was still content to take
credit that was not her due, she was gradually altering her standard,
and beginning slowly but surely to realize that life consists of far
more than the gratification of the moment, and that righteousness is a
higher goal than pleasure.

One morning, when the girls were sitting chatting round the sundial at
eleven o'clock recreation, they noticed the telegraph boy from
Chetbourne ride up on his bicycle and deliver a message at the door.

"No alarm for any of us, I hope!" said Phoebe. "It's rather silly, but
I always feel a little scared when I see one of those yellow envelopes,
and wonder if anything has happened at home."

"And yet people send telegrams about everything," said Myfanwy.
"Probably this is only to offer Miss Drummond seats at a concert, or to
tell her somebody's coming to visit the school."

"Oh, I dare say! But I