chatter in her wildest and most fascinating way.
Sibyl was instantly convulsed with laughter, and forgot all about the
old stump of tree and the bit of wood that Betty had fished out, looked
at, and put back again. The whole matter would, of course, recur to
Sibyl by-and by; but at present she was absorbed in the great delight of
Betty's conversation.

"Oh, Betty, I do admire you!" she said.

"Well, now, listen to one thing," said Betty. "I hate flattery."

"But it isn't flattery if I mean what I say. If I do admire a person I
say so. Now, I admire our darling Martha West. She has always been kind
to me. Martha is a dear, a duck; but, of course, she doesn't fascinate
in the way you do. Several of the other girls in my form--I'm in the
upper fifth, you know--have been talking about you and wondering where
your charm lay. For you couldn't be called exactly pretty; although, of
course, that very black hair of yours, and those curious eyes which are
no color in particular, and yet seem to be every color, and your pale
face, make you quite out of the common. We love your sisters too; they
are darlings, but neither of them is like you. Still, you're not exactly
pretty. You haven't nearly such straight and regular features as Olive
Repton; you're not as pretty, even, as Fanny Crawford. Of course Fan's a
dear old thing--one of the very best girls in the school; and she is
your cousin, isn't she, Betty?"

"Yes."

"Betty, it is delightful to walk with you! And isn't it just wonderful
to think that you've not been more than a few weeks in the school before
you are made a Speciality, and with all the advantages of one? Oh, it
does seem quite too wonderful!"

"I am glad you think so," said Betty.

"But it is very extraordinary. I don't think it has ever been done
before. You see, your arrival at the school and everything else was
completely out of the common. You didn't come at the beginning of term,
as most new girls do; you came when term was quite a fortnight old; and
you were put straight away into the upper school without going through
the drudgery, or whatever you may like to call it, of the lower school.
Oh, I do--yes, I do--call it perfectly wonderful! I suppose you are
eaten up with conceit?"

"No, I am not," said Betty. "I am not conceited at all. Now listen,
Sibyl. You are to be a guest, are you not, at our Speciality party
to-night?"

"Of course I am; and I am so fearfully excited, more particularly as you
a