"To dear Agnes, from her affectionate brother Walter. Christmas Day, 1896."

Quick as thought the angry child tore out the t.i.tle-page and two or three other pages at the beginning, scattered them into little bits, and then, going up to the fire which burned at one end of the long room, flung the scattered fragments into the blaze. She had no sooner done so than a curious sense of dismay stole over her. She shut up the book hastily, and being really alarmed, began to look over her English history. Miss Thompson came back just before recess was over, picked up Evelyn's book, asked her one or two questions, and gave her an approving nod.

"That is better," she said. "You have done as much as I could expect in the time. Now then, come here, please. These are your English lessons for to-morrow."

Evelyn walked quite meekly across the room. Miss Thompson set her several lessons in the ordinary English subjects.

"And now," she said, "you are to go to mademoiselle. She is waiting to find out what French you know, and to give you your lesson for to-morrow."

The rest of the school hours pa.s.sed quickly. Evelyn was given what she considered a disgraceful amount of work to do; but a dull fear sat at her heart, and she felt a sense of regret at having torn the pages out of the volume of Ruskin. Immediately after morning school the girls went for a short walk, then dinner was announced, and after dinner there was a brief period of freedom. Evelyn, Audrey, and the rest all found themselves walking in the grounds. Brenda Fox immediately went up to Audrey, and introduced her to a few of the nicest girls in the head form, and they all began to pace slowly up and down. Evelyn stood just for an instant forlorn; then she dashed into the midst of a circle of little girls who were playing noisily together.

"Stop!" she said. "Look at me, all of you."

The children stopped playing, and looked in wonder at Evelyn.

"I am Evelyn Wynford. Who is going to be my friend? I shall only take up with the one I really like. I am not afraid of any of you. I have come to school to find out if I like it; if I don't like it I shall not stay.

You had best, all of you, know what sort I am. It was very mean and horrid to put me into the Fourth Form with a number of ignorant little babies; but as I am there, I suppose I shall have to stay for a week or so."

"You were put into the Fourth Form," said little Sophie Jenner, "because, I suppose, you did not know enough to be put into the Fifth Form."

"You are a cheeky little thing," said Evelyn, "and I am not going to trouble myself to reply to you.-Well, now, who is going to be my friend?

I can tell you all numbers of stories; I have heaps of pocket-money, and I can bring chocolate-creams and ginger-pop and all sorts of good things to the school."

These last remarks were decidedly calculated to ensure Evelyn's popularity. Two or three of the girls ran up to her, and she was soon marching up and down the playground relating some of her grievances, and informing them, one and all, of the high position which lay before her.

"You are all very much impressed with Audrey, I can see, but she is really n.o.body," cried Eve. "By and by Wynford Castle will be mine, and won't you like to say you knew me when I am mistress of the Castle-won't you just! I do not at all know that I shall stay long at school, but you had better make it pleasant for me."

Some of the girls were much impressed, and a few of them swore eternal fealty to Evelyn. One or two began to flatter her, and on the whole the little girl considered that she had a fairly good time during play-hour.

When she got back to her work she was relieved to see that Ruskin's _Sesame and Lilies_ no longer lay in its place on the small table where Miss Thompson had left it.

"She will not open it, perhaps, for years," thought Evelyn. "I need not worry any more about that. And if she did like the book I am glad I tore it. Horrid, horrid thing!"

Lessons went on, and by and by Audrey and Evelyn's first day at school came to an end. The governess-cart came to fetch them, and they drove off under the admiring gaze of several of their fellow-pupils.

"Well, Evelyn, and how did you like school?" said Audrey when the two were alone together.

"You could not expect me to like it very much," replied Evelyn. "I was put into such a horrid low cla.s.s. I am angry with Miss Thompson."

"Miss Thompson! That nice, intelligent girl?"

"Not much of a girl about her!" said Evelyn. "Why, she is quite old."

"Do you think so? She struck me as young, pretty, and very nice."

"It is all very well for you, Audrey; you are so tame. I really believe you never think a bad thought of anybody."

"I try not to, of course," replied Audrey. "Do you imagine it is a fine trait in one's character to think bad thoughts of people?"

"Mothery always said that if you did not dislike people, you were made of cotton-wool," replied Evelyn.

"Then you really do dislike people?"

"Oh! some I dislike awfully. Now, there is one at the Castle-but there!

I won't say any more about _her_; and there is one at school whom I hate. It is that horrid Thompson woman. And she had the cheek to call me Evelyn."

"Of course she calls you Evelyn; you are her pupil."

"Well, I think it is awful cheek, all the same. I hate her, and-oh, Audrey, such fun-such fun! I have revenged myself on her; I really have."

"Oh Evelyn! don't get into mischief, I beseech of you."

"I sha'n't say any more, but I do believe that I have revenged myself.

Oh, such fun-such fun!"

Evelyn laughed several times during the rest of her drive home, and arrived at the Castle in high spirits. The girls were to dine with Lady Frances and the Squire that evening, as they happened to be alone; and the Squire was quite interested in the account which Evelyn gave him of her cla.s.s.

"The only reason why I could read the dull, dull life of Edward I.," she said, "is because Edward is your name, Uncle Ned, and because I love you so much."

"On the whole, my dear," said the Squire later on to his wife, "the school experiment seems to work well. Little Evelyn was in high spirits to-night."

"You think of no one but Evelyn!" said Lady Frances. "What about Audrey?"

"I am not afraid about Audrey; you have trained her, and she is by nature most amiable," said the Squire.

"I am glad you paid me a compliment, my dear," answered his wife.

"Audrey certainly does credit to my training. But I trust Miss Henderson will break that naughty girl in; she certainly needs it."

The next morning the girls went back to school; and Evelyn, who had quite forgotten what she had done to the book, and who had provided herself secretly with a great packet of delicious sweetmeats which she intended to distribute amongst her favorites, was still in high spirits.

School began, the girls went to their different cla.s.ses, Evelyn stumbled badly through her lessons, and at last the hour of recess came. The girls were all preparing to leave the schoolroom when Miss Thompson asked them to wait a moment.

"Something most painful has occurred," she said, "and I trust whichever girl has done the mischief will at once confess it."

Evelyn's face did not change color. A curious, numb feeling got round her heart; then an obstinate spirit took possession of her.

"Not for worlds will I tell," she thought. "Of course Miss Thompson is alluding to the book."

Yes, Miss Thompson was. She held the beautifully bound copy of Ruskin in her hand, opened it where the t.i.tle-page used to be, and with tears in her eyes looked at the girls.

"Some one has torn four pages out of the beginning of this book," she said. "I left it here by mistake yesterday. I took it up this morning to continue a lecture which I was preparing for the afternoon, and found what terrible mischief had been done. I trust whoever has done this will at least have the honor to confess her wrong-doing."

Silence and expressions of intense dismay were seen on all the young faces.

"If it were my own book I should not mind so much," said the governess; "but it happens to belong to Miss Henderson, and was given to her by her favorite brother, who died two months afterwards. I had some difficulty in getting her to allow me to use it for this lecture. Nothing can replace to her the loss of the inscription written in her brother's own hand. The only possible chance for the guilty person is to tell all at once. But, oh! who could have been so cruel?"

Still the girls were silent, although tears had risen to many of their eyes. Miss Thompson could hear the words "Oh, what a shame!" coming from more than one pair of lips.

She waited for an instant, and then said: