rought back some of the
nervousness of most of the girls. But Mrs. Brett, or Aunt Susan, as Lucy
called her, was all smiles and benediction.

"My dears," she said in her motherly way, "there is room enough and to
spare in my house for every one of you--room enough and to spare. You
shall have the heartiest welcome."

Here Mrs. Brett went up to Rosamund, and, rather to the surprise of the
others, elected her for a resounding kiss on the cheek.

"My dear, a girl who can go out and take a walk at so early an hour in
the morning is quite after my own heart."

"But, Aunt Susan," interrupted Lucy, "do you really approve of a girl
who burns the candle at both ends? It so happens that I was obliged to
invade Rosamund's room last night, and I heard her reciting poetry in
two voices, and then I heard her throw her voice into a distant part of
the room, so that you might almost imagine that she was a ventriloquist.
It was nearly eleven o'clock, and the doctor said he saw her walking
along the high-road between four and five this morning. Don't you think
it is too much for her strength?"

"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Brett, who was as kind in heart as her
face appeared. "I admire energy; but the energy of the young is
sometimes misdirected. When dear Rosamund comes to stay with me I will
show her one or two things.--You won't mind getting a wrinkle or two
from an old woman, will you, Rose?"

"No," said Rosamund, who was absolutely torn in the midst of many
conflicting emotions: her anxiety for her friend, her knowledge of what
had happened the night before, her ever-increasing dislike to Lucy--and,
in fact, the whole false position in which she found herself--all
distressed her beyond measure.

Again she touched the Professor on the arm.

"I want to say something," she remarked, and she turned and faced the
other girls.--"Before I decide to go with Mrs. Brett I must speak to
Professor Merriman."

"But there is no time, my dear," said Mrs. Brett. "Our train leaves in
three-quarters of an hour. Each girl will please pack a small bag, if
she possesses such a useful commodity, and we must walk as fast as ever
we can to the station, for my poor dear husband has no end of things for
me to attend to to-day, and the moment we get to Dartford we shall have
to bustle about, I can tell you. There'll be no time for whims and
fancies, or even for lessons; for there is to be an enormous tea-fight,
as I call it, for the young folk of