she
really made me scream with laughter. She is the jolliest girl! Then, all
of a sudden, we came in sight of the flower-gardens; and she asked me
what I was going to wear last night, and I told her about the green
chiffon dress which auntie had sent me; and then she suggested a wreath
of small marguerites, and told me to get Birchall to cut some for me.
She said they would be very becoming, and of course I believed her.
There's nothing in my story, is there, Fanny?"

"That depends on the point of view," answered Fanny.

"I don't understand you."

"Nor do I mean you to, kiddy."

"Well, there's one thing more," continued Sibyl, who felt much elated at
being allowed to talk to one of the most supercilious of all the
Specialities. "I couldn't get out of my head about Betty and the
oak-tree; so just now--a few minutes ago--I got some of my friends to
come with me, and we went to the oak-tree, and I stood on Mabel Lee's
shoulder, and I poked and poked amongst the debris and rubbish in the
hollow of the trunk, and there was nothing there at all--nothing except
just a piece of wood. So, of course, Betty spoke the truth--it was
wood."

"How many chocolates would you like?" was Fanny's rejoinder.

"Oh Fanny, are you going to give me some?"

"Yes, if you are a good girl, and don't tell any one that you repeated
this very harmless and uninteresting little story to me about my Cousin
Betty. Of course she is my cousin, and I don't like anything said
against her."

"But I wasn't speaking against darling Betty!" Sibyl's eyes filled with
tears.

"Of course not, monkey; but you were telling me a little tale which
might be construed in different ways."

"Yes, yes; only I don't understand. Betty had a perfect right to poke
her hand into the hollow of the tree, and to bring up a piece of wood,
and look at it, and put it back again; and I don't understand your
expression, Fanny, that it all depends on the point of view."

"Keep this to yourself, and I will give you some more chocolates
sometime," was Fanny's answer. "I can be your friend as well as
Martha--that is, if you are nice, and don't repeat every single thing
you hear. The worst sin in a schoolgirl--at least, the worst minor
sin--is to be breaking confidences. No schoolgirl with a shade of honor
in her composition would ever do that, and certainly no girl trained at
Haddo Court ought to be noted for such a characteristic. Now, Sibyl, you
are no fool; and, when I talk