f it will?" said Irene, beginning to dance along by
Rosamund's side.

The necessary apology was made to the cook, who received it with dubious
surprise, the other servants standing near; but when they saw Irene
glancing in their direction they darted off in more or less pretended
terror. Cook, however, was mollified by Rosamund's sweet face, and an
excellent supper was packed in a hamper.

The governess-cart was brought round to the front door, and Lady Jane,
to her own amazement and much against her will, took the reins and drove
as far as Parson's Dale, a most lovely spot four miles away. Miss Frost
felt the soft evening air fanning her cheeks and taking some of the
nervousness out of her. Irene sat thoughtful, and looking exquisitely
pretty. Rosamund chatted on all sorts of subjects. In short, such a day
had never before been known to the younger girl.

CHAPTER XIV.

SCHOOL AT THE FOLLIES.

Jane Denton had a hard fight for her life. For days she hovered between
this world and the next. Two or three doctors came to see her. She had
two trained nurses; bulletins were put up at the door; no one was
allowed to come in. The girls who were staying with Mrs. Brett were
strictly forbidden to have any communication with the infected house;
Rosamund and Irene were equally forbidden to go near Sunnyside.

But at last there came a day when there was a decided improvement. The
diphtheria was gone, and the young patient began slowly to pass from
danger to convalescence. Then a load seemed to be lifted from every
one's breast; and Rosamund really turned, as she expressed it, to
consider her future life. During the time of waiting she had a certain
influence over Irene; not, perhaps, so much as on the first day, when
that young lady, charmed, bewildered, and amazed by Rosamund's firmness,
had followed her lead unflinchingly. Rosamund now had to consider
herself. She wrote, therefore, a long letter to her mother.

"I could not do so," she thought, "while Jane lay between life and
death, when there was a strong chance of the school at Sunnyside not
existing any more. But now I must write to dear mother and tell her the
truth."

Accordingly, the following letter reached Mrs. Cunliffe on a certain
morning early in July:

"MY DARLING MOTHER,--You know all about Jane, of course, and that
she is now better--in fact, quite out of danger. In a short time
they will take her away, probably to some seaside plac