ld forgive me!" And again the invalid's face
was hidden in the covers, while her body shook with sobs; that
convinced Lady Jane that nobody, not even her anxious self, knew how
seriously ill her daughter was.

"My child, my child, don't grieve so! It is all past and gone. I made
a mistake in forcing you to meet the companion of your disaster and
hearing the story from her, but please do forget it for my sake. You
are well--or soon will be; and the sooner you gain some strength,
you'll be as happy as ever."

"I shall never be happy again--never. I want to go away from here. I
never want to see Oak Knowe again!" wailed Gwendolyn with fresh tears.

"Go away? Why, darling, you have always been happier here than in any
other place. At home you complain of your brothers, and you think my
home rules harder than the Lady Principal's. Besides, I've just
settled the boys at school and with you here, I felt free to make all
my plans for a winter abroad. Don't be nonsensical. Don't spoil
everything by foolishness concerning an accident that ended so well.
I don't understand you, dearest, I certainly do not."

Assembly Hall had been cleared for the entertainment. Most of the
chairs had been removed, only a row of them being left around the
walls for the benefit of the invited guests. These were the friends
and patrons of the school from the near by city and from the country
houses round about.

Conspicuous among these was old John Gilpin in his Sunday suit, his
long beard brushed till each hair hung smooth and separate, his bald
head polished till it shone, and himself the most ill at ease of all
the company. Beside him sat the little widow, Robin's mother; without
whom, John had declared, he would "not stir hand nor hoof" toward any
such frivolity, and the good Dame abetting him in the matter. She had
said:

"No, Mrs. Locke, no more he shall. I can't go, it's bread-settin'
night, and with my being so unwieldy and awkward like--I'd ruther by
far stay home. Robin will be all right. The dear lad's become the very
apple of my eye and I e'enamost dread his gettin' well enough to go to
work again. A bit of nonsense, like this of Dorothy's gettin'-up, 'll
do you more good nor medicine. I've said my say and leave it said. If
John could go in his clean smock, he'd be all right, even to face that
Lady Principal that caught him cavortin' like a silly calf. But
'twould be an obligement to me if you'd go along and keep him in
countenanc