pet those dogs
again, and I want to go particularly badly between now and next
Thursday."

"And why especially between now and next Thursday?"

"Ah, I can't quite give you the reason. There is a reason.
Please--please--please say yes!"

"It is certainly against my rules."

"But, dear Mrs. Haddo, it isn't against your rules if you give leave,"
pleaded the girl.

"You are very clever at arguing, Betty. I certainly have liberty to
break rules in individual cases. Well, dear child, it shall be so. I
will send a line to Mrs. Miles to ask her to expect you and your sisters
to-morrow. A servant shall accompany you, and will call again later on.
You can only stay about one hour at the farm. To-morrow is a
half-holiday, so it will be all right."

"Oh, how kind of you!" said Betty.

But again Mrs. Haddo noticed that Betty avoided looking into her eyes.
"Betty," she said, "this is a small matter--my yielding to the whim of
an impetuous girl in whom I take an interest. But, my dear child, I have
to congratulate you. You made a marvellous success--a marvellous
success--last night. Several of the girls in the school have spoken of
it, and in particular dear Margaret Grant. I wonder if you would
improvise for me some evening?"

"Gladly!" replied Betty. And now for one minute her brilliant eyes were
raised and fixed on those of Mrs. Haddo. "Gladly," she repeated--and she
shivered slightly--"if you will hear me after next Thursday."

CHAPTER XIV

TEA AT FARMER MILES'S

"It's all right, girls!" said Betty in her most joyful tone.

"What is all right, Betty and Bess?" asked Sylvia saucily.

"Oh, kiss me, girls," said Betty, "and let's have a real frolic!
To-morrow is Saturday--a half-holiday, of course--and we're going to the
Mileses' to have tea."

"The Mileses'!"

"Yes, you silly children; those dear farmer-folk who keep the dogs."

"Dan and Beersheba?" cried Hetty.

"Yes, Dan and Beersheba; and we're going to have a real jolly time, and
we're going to forget dull care. It'll be quite the most delightful
sport we've had since we came to Haddo Court. What I should love most
would be to vault over the fence and go all by our lonesome selves. But
we must have a maid--a horrid, stupid maid; only, of course, she'll walk
behind, and she'll leave us alone when we get to the farm. She'll fetch
us again by-and-by--that'll be another nuisance. Still, somehow, I don't
know what there is about school, but I'm not game