ut them. Other picnics are to follow in this
story which ended differently, which led to tangled knots and bitter
heart-burnings. But the first picnics from Haddo Court in which Betty
Vivian took part was, in a way, something like that first morning when
she joined the other girls in whispering her prayers in the beautiful
chapel.

The picnic came and went, and in course of time the day arrived when
Betty was to be the honored guest of the Specialities. On the morning of
that day Fanny made another effort to induce Betty to renounce the idea
of becoming a Speciality. She had spent a sleepless night thinking over
the matter, and by the morning had made up her mind what to do.

Betty was making friends rapidly in the school. But the twins, although
they were quite popular, still clung very much to each other; and
Fanny's idea was to get at Betty through her sisters. She knew quite
well that often, during recess, Sylvia and Hester rushed upstairs, for
what purpose she could not ascertain, the existence of the Vivians'
attic being unknown to her. There, however, day by day, Sylvia and Hetty
fed Dickie on raw meat, and watched the monstrous spider getting larger
and more ferocious-looking.

"He'd be the sort," said Sylvia, opening her eyes very wide and fixing
them on her sister, "to do mischief to _some one_ if _some one_ were not
very careful."

"Oh, don't, silly Sylvia!" said Hetty with some annoyance. "You know
Mrs. Haddo would not like you to talk like that. Now let's examine our
caterpillars."

"There isn't much to see at the present moment," remarked Sylvia, "for
they're every one of them in the chrysalis stage."

The girls, having spent about five minutes in the Vivians' attics, now
ran downstairs, and went out, as was their custom, by a side-door which
opened into one of the gardens. It was here that Fanny pounced on them.
She came quickly forward, trying to look as pleasant as she could.

"Well, twins," she said, "and how goes the world with you?"

"Oh, all right!" replied Sylvia. "We can't stay to talk now; can we,
Het? We've got to meet a friend of ours in the lower garden--old
Birchall. By the way, do you know old Birchall, Fan?"

"Doddering old creature! of course I know him," replied Fanny.

"He isn't doddering," said Sylvia; "he has a great deal more sense than
most of us. I wish I had half his knowledge of worms, and spiders, and
ants, and goldfish, and--and--flies of every sort. Why, there isn't