r, how very queer!" said Merry, and she reddened deeply.

"Why do you look like that?" said Susan.

"Nothing, nothing," said Merry.

Susan was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, "That's a
curious-looking girl."

"What girl?" said Merry indignantly.

"I think you said her name was Howland--Miss Howland."

"She is one of the most delightful girls I know," replied Merry at
once.

"Well, I don't know her, you see, so I can't say. Aneta tells me that
she is a member of your school."

"Yes; and I am so delighted!" said Merry.

Again Susan Heathfield was silent, feeling a little puzzled; but Merry
quickly changed the conversation, for she did not want to have any
more talk with regard to Maggie Howland. Merry, however, had a very
transparent face. Her conversation with her friend had left traces of
anxiety and even slight apprehension on her sweet, open face. Merry
Cardew was oppressed by the first secret of her life, and it is
perhaps to be regretted, or perhaps the reverse, that she found it
almost impossible to keep a secret.

"Well," Cicely said to her as they were hurrying from the shady woods
in the direction of the picnic-tea, "what is wrong with you, Merry?
Have you a headache?"

"Oh no; I am perfectly all right," said Merry, brightening up. "It's
only--well, to say the truth, I am sorry that Maggie is going
to-morrow."

"You are very fond of her, aren't you?" said Cicely.

"Well, yes; that is it, I am," said Merry.

"We'll see plenty of her at school, anyway," said Cicely.

"I wish she were rich," said Merry. "I hate to think of her as poor."

"Is she poor?" asked Cicely.

"Oh yes; she was just telling me, poor darling!"

"I don't understand what it means to be poor," said Cicely. "People
say it is very bad, but somehow I can't take it in."

"Maggie takes it in, at any rate," said Merry. "Think of us to-morrow,
Cicely, having more fun, being out again in the open air, having
pleasant companions all round us, and our beautiful home to go back
to, and our parents, whom we love so dearly; and then, next week, of
the house by the sea, and Aneta and Molly and Isabel our companions."

"Well, of course," said Cicely.

"And then think of poor Maggie," continued Merry. "She'll be shut up
in a musty, fusty London lodging. I can't think how she endures it."

"I don't know what a musty, fusty lodging is," said Cicely; "but she
could have come with us, because mother invited her."

"She can't,