er eyes
very bright, and in her hand she held, soiled and crumpled, Susan's
letter of confession. The next second it had dropped into the heart of
the fire, and as the door opened to admit Mademoiselle a little flame
sprang brightly up. And that was how Sophia Jane posted the letter. It
was such a sudden thing, and so completely altered the state of affairs
that Susan could not at first take it in, or remember that she might now
answer Mademoiselle's greetings without shame. These were most
affectionate and cheerful, and she presently seated herself close to
Sophia Jane's arm-chair with her basket on her knees, and untied her
bonnet-strings.

"Madame, your aunt, is so kind to ask me to take tea with you," she
said, "and I have taken the liberty to bring also a Monsieur who is
anxious to make his compliments to Miss Sophia."

"Is he down-stairs?" asked Sophia Jane.

"Mais non," said Mademoiselle with a little burst of laughter; "he is
here, in this room, and waits to make himself known."

She opened the lid of the basket a very little way and peeped in.

"It's Gambetta!" exclaimed Sophia Jane, in a voice hoarse with
excitement; "that's what you meant by a friend."

There was the tiny tinkle of a bell. Mademoiselle opened the basket
wide, and there indeed was Gambetta in all the dignity of the new
collar.

Nothing could exceed Sophia Jane's delight as she clasped her hands in
an ecstasy and laughed aloud. "Doesn't he look nice in it?" she said.
Mademoiselle smiled and nodded in return; everyone looked pleased except
Gambetta himself, who held his neck stiffly as though he said, "Pride
must suffer pain."

Susan stood a little behind the group while this was going on; now she
came in front of Mademoiselle and caressed Gambetta's soft furry neck.

"It's Sophia Jane's present," she said, "not mine. She sent it to
Monsieur for him."

Mademoiselle looked puzzled.

"It was got with Susan's half-crown," added Sophia Jane quickly, "so
it's from both of us."

"Ah, that is very amiable of you both," said Mademoiselle. "Gambetta
has both the two of you to thank--and Adolphe also; that is very
agreeable."

And so the event which Susan had thought of and dreaded so much passed
with this slight remark. The confession had been made, and her mind was
clear again, and free. Free to laugh, and talk, and look people
straight in the face, and be her old happy self. But there was one
thing she never forgot, and tha