"Well, the fact is this. I am going, as you know, to India for the next few years, and it is quite possible that as the cottage at Craigie Muir will belong to the Vivian girls--for poor Frances bought it and allowed those Scotch folk the Macfarlanes to live there--it is, I say, quite possible that you may go to Craigie Muir for a summer holiday with your cousins. The air is superb, and would do you much good, and of course the girls would be wild with delight. Well, my dear, if you go, I want you to look round everywhere--you have good, sharp eyes in your head, Fan, my girl--and try if you can find a little sealed packet which poor Frances left to be taken care of by me for your three cousins."

"A sealed packet?" said f.a.n.n.y. She felt herself turning very pale.

"Yes. Do you know anything about it?"

"Oh, father!" said poor f.a.n.n.y; and her eyes filled with tears.

"What is the matter, my child?"

"I--I'd so much rather not talk about it, please."

"Then you do know something?"

"Please, please, father, don't question me!"

"I won't if you don't wish it; but your manner puzzles me a good deal.

Well, dear, if you can get it by any chance, you had better put it into Mrs. Haddo's charge until I return. I asked those poor children if they had seen it, and they denied having done so."

f.a.n.n.y felt herself shiver, and had to clasp her hands very tightly together.

"I also asked that good shepherd Donald Macfarlane and his wife, and they certainly knew nothing about it. I can't stay with you any longer now, my little girl; but if you do happen to go to Craigie Muir you might remember that I am a little anxious on the subject, for it is my wish to carry out the directions of my dear cousin Frances in all particulars. Now, try to be very, very good to your cousins, Fan; and remember how lonely they are, and how differently they have been brought up from you."

f.a.n.n.y could not speak, for she was crying too hard. Sir John presently went away, and forgot all about the little packet. But f.a.n.n.y remembered it; in fact, she could not get it out of her head during the entire day; and in the course of the afternoon, when she found that the Vivian girls joined the group of the Specialities, she forced a chair between Betty and Olive Repton, and seated herself on it, and purposely, hating herself all the time for doing so, felt Betty's pocket. Beyond doubt there was something hard in it. It was not a pocket-handkerchief, nor did it feel like a pencil or a knife or anything of that sort.

"I shall know no peace," thought f.a.n.n.y to herself, "until I get that unhappy girl to tell the truth and return the packet to me. I shall be very firm and very kind, and I will never let out a single thing about it in the school. But the packet must be given up; and then I will manage to convey it to Mrs. Haddo, who will keep it until dear father returns."

But although Fan intended to act the part of the very virtuous and proper girl, she did not like her cousins the more because of this unpleasant incident. f.a.n.n.y Crawford had a certain strength of character; but it is sad to relate that she was somewhat overladen with self-righteousness, and was very proud of the fact that nothing would induce _her_ to do a dishonorable thing. She sadly lacked Mrs. Haddo's rare and large sympathy and deep knowledge of life, and f.a.n.n.y certainly had not the slightest power of reading character.

That very evening, therefore, when the Vivian girls had gone to their room, feeling very tired and sleepy, and by no means so unhappy as they expected, f.a.n.n.y first knocked at their door and then boldly entered.

Each girl had removed her frock and was wearing a little, rough, gray dressing-gown, and each girl was in the act of brushing out her own very thick hair.

"Brushing-hair time!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y in a cheerful tone. "I trust I am not in the way."

"We were going to bed," remarked Betty.

"Oh, Betty, what a reproachful tone!" f.a.n.n.y tried to carry matters off with a light hand. "Surely I, your own cousin, am welcome? Do say I am welcome, dear Betty! and let me bring my brush and comb, and brush my hair in your room."

"No," said Betty; "you are not welcome, and we'd all much rather that you brushed your hair in your own room."

"You certainly are sweetly polite," said f.a.n.n.y, with a smile on her face which was not remarkable for sweetness. She looked quite calmly at the girls for a moment. Then she said, "This day, on account of your arrival, rules are off, so to speak, but they begin again to-morrow morning. To-morrow evening, therefore, I cannot come to your bedroom, for it would be breaking rules."

"Oh, how just awfully jolly!" exclaimed Sylvia.

"Thanks," said f.a.n.n.y. She paused again for a minute. Then she added, "But as rules are off, I may as well say that I have come here to-night on purpose. Just before father left, he told me that there was a little sealed packet"--Betty sat plump down on the side of her bed; Sylvia and Hetty caught each others hands--"a little sealed packet," continued f.a.n.n.y, "which belonged to poor Miss Vivian--your aunt Frances--and which father was to take charge of for you."

"No, he wasn't," said Betty; "you make a mistake."

"Nonsense, Betty! Father never makes a mistake. Anyhow, he has Miss Vivian's letter, which proves the whole thing. Now, the packet cannot be found. Father is quite troubled about it. He says he has not an idea what it contains, but it was left to be placed under his care. He asked you three about it, and you said you knew nothing. He also asked the servants in that ugly little house----"

"How dare you call it ugly?" said Betty.

"Well, well, pray don't get into a pa.s.sion! Anyhow, you all denied any knowledge of the packet. Now, I may as well confess that, although I have not breathed the subject to any one, I saw you, Betty, with my own eyes, take it out of Miss Vivian's drawer. I was lying on the sofa in the dark, or almost in the dark, and you never noticed me; but I saw you open the drawer and take the packet out. That being the case, you _do_ know all about it, and you have told a lie. Please, Betty, give me the packet, and I will take it to-morrow to Mrs. Haddo, and she will look after it for you until father returns; and I promise you faithfully that I will never tell a soul what you did, nor the lie you told father about it. Now, Betty, do be sensible. Give it to me, without any delay. I felt it in the pocket under your dress to-day, so you can't deny that you have it."

f.a.n.n.y's face was very red when she had finished speaking, and there were two other faces in that room which were even redder; but another face was very pale, with shining eyes and a defiant, strange expression about the lips.

The three Vivians now came up to f.a.n.n.y, who, although older than the two younger girls, was built much more slightly, and, compared with them, had no muscle at all. Betty was a very strong girl for her age.

"Come," said Betty, "we are not going to waste words on you. Just march out of this!"

"I--what do you mean?"

"March! This is our room, our private room, and therefore our castle. If you like to play the spy, you can; but you don't come in here. Go along--be quick--out you go!"

A strong hand took f.a.n.n.y forcibly by her right arm, and a strong hand took her with equal force by her left, then two very powerful hands pushed from behind; so that f.a.n.n.y Crawford, who considered herself one of the most dignified and lady-like girls in the school, was summarily ejected. She went into her room, looked at the cruel marks on her arms caused by the angry girls, and burst into tears.

Miss Symes came in and found f.a.n.n.y crying, and did her best to comfort the girl. "What is wrong, dear?" she said.

"Oh, don't--don't ask me!" said poor f.a.n.n.y.

"You are fretting about your father, darling."

"It's not that," said f.a.n.n.y; "and I can't ever tell you, dear St.

Cecilia. Oh, please, leave me! Oh, oh, I am unhappy!"

Miss Symes, finding she could do no good, and believing that f.a.n.n.y must be a little hysterical on account of her father, went away. When she had gone f.a.n.n.y dried her eyes, and stayed for a long time lost in thought. She had meant to be good, after her fashion, to the Vivian girls; but, after their treatment of her, she felt that she understood for the first time what hate really meant. If she could not force the girls to deliver up the packet, she might even consider it her duty to tell the whole story to Mrs. Haddo. Never before in the annals of that great school had a Speciality been known to tell a story of another girl. But f.a.n.n.y reflected that there were great moments in life which required that a rule should be broken.

CHAPTER VI

A CRISIS

The Specialities had made firm rules for themselves. Their numbers were few, for only those who could really rise to a high ideal were permitted to join.

The head of the Specialities was Margaret Grant. It was she who first thought of this little scheme for bringing the girls she loved best into closer communion each with the other. She had consulted Susie Rushworth, f.a.n.n.y Crawford, Mary and Julia Bertram, and Olive Repton. Up to the present there were no other members of the Speciality Club. These girls managed it their own way. They had their private meetings, their earnest conversations, and their confessions each to make to the other. They swore eternal friendship. They had all things in common--that is, concealments were not permitted amongst the Specialities; and the influence of this small and apparently unimportant club did much towards the formation of the characters of its members.

Now, as poor f.a.n.n.y sat alone in her pretty room she thought, and thought again, over what had occurred. According to the rules of the club to which she belonged, she ought to consult the other girls with regard to what the Vivians had done. _The_ great rule of the Specialities was "No secrets." Each must know all that the others knew.

Never before in the annals of the school had there been a secret of such importance--in short, such a horrible secret--to divulge. f.a.n.n.y made up her mind that she could not do it.

There was to be a great meeting of the Specialities on the following evening. They usually met in each other's bedrooms, taking the task of offering hospitality turn and turn about. At these little social gatherings they had cocoa, tempting cakes, and chocolate creams; here they laughed and chatted, sometimes having merely a merry evening, at others discussing gravely the larger issues of life. f.a.n.n.y was the one who was to entertain the Specialities on the following evening, and she made preparations accordingly. Sir John had brought her a particularly tempting cake from Buzzard's, a couple of pounds of the best chocolate creams, a tin of delicious cocoa, and, last but not least, a beautiful little set of charming cups and saucers and tiny plates, and real silver spoons, also little silver knives. Notwithstanding her grief at parting from her father, f.a.n.n.y was delighted with her present. Hitherto there had been no attempt at style in these brief meetings of the friends. But f.a.n.n.y's next entertainment was to be done properly.

There was no secret about these gatherings. Miss Symes had been told that these special girls wanted to meet once a week between nine and ten o'clock in their respective bedrooms. She had carried the information to Mrs. Haddo, who had immediately given the desired permission, telling the girls that they might hold their meeting until the great bell rang for chapel. Prayers were always read at a quarter to ten in the beautiful chapel belonging to Haddo Court, but only the girls of the upper school attended in the evening. f.a.n.n.y would have been in the highest spirits to-night were it not for the Vivians, were it not for the consciousness that she was in possession of a secret--a really terrible secret--which she must not tell to her companions. Yes, she must break her rule; she must not tell.

She lay down on her bed at last and fell asleep, feeling tired and very miserable. She was horrified at Betty's conduct with regard to the little packet, and could not feel a particle of sympathy for the other girls in the matter.

It was soon after midnight on that same eventful night. The great clock over the stables had struck twelve, and sweet chimes had come from the other clock in the little tower of the chapel. The whole house was wrapped in profound slumber. Even Mrs. Haddo had put away all cares, and had laid her head on her pillow; even the Rev. Edmund Fairfax and his wife had put out the lights in their special wing of the Court, and had gone to sleep.