AT last the unpleasant task was over, and Matilda, vowing vengeance against everyone, returned to Dacre House. When they were alone, Cecil and Molly looked at each other.

"How splendid you are, Cecil!" said Molly. "How can I ever thank you? I can scarcely tell you what a load you have lifted from my mind."

"You must thank Jimmy, then," said Cecil. "I should never have discovered the truth but for him."

"Your brother Jimmy?"

"Yes."

Molly raised her eyebrows.

"Really, you are quite enigmatical," she said. "How can Jimmy, who is far away, have anything to do with the matter?"

"He is our detective," said Cecil, who was feeling so happy that she felt inclined to skip. "I put the case before him, mentioning no names. The wicked boy had the audacity to reply on a post card. The words of the oracle were as follows: 'Look out for eavesdroppers.' That little sentence gave me the clew; I took Matilda to the summerhouse, began to talk over the occurrence, told her with all the emphasis I could that you and Kate had sat together on the very bench where she and I were then resting, when Kate made her confidence to you. Matilda, fortunately for the non-success of her wicked plans, has a tell-tale face. I soon got her into the center of a circle, and hedged her in. Oh, it was a horrid business! How thankful I am that it is over!"

"I feel my heart as light as a feather once again," said Molly. "Let us go at once to find Kate; she is sure to be returning from her botany expedition by now. Cecil, you don't know what Kate was before this cloud came over her; she was the life of the whole house. Oh, you will love her as much as I do!"

"I'm quite sure I shall," answered Cecil. "I like her immensely already. When I have forgiven her for doubting you, I dare say I shall see that she is just as charming as you have described her."

"You have cured my headache," said Molly. "I can't stay indoors any longer; let us go and meet Kate and the others."

The girls were soon out of doors. The day was a crisp one in late October. There was a feeling of coming winter in the air, but all nature was still peaceful and smiling. The trees still wore their autumn dress; grand crimson and yellow robes decked the landscape.

Molly and Cecil walked some little distance. They soon found themselves in the country. Suddenly Molly uttered an exclamation. Kate and her companions were coming slowly to meet them.

"How tired Kitty looks!" said Molly. "Why, she quite lags behind the others. I wonder what is the matter."

"Run up to her with that paper in your hand and tell her everything," said Cecil. "Get her to walk behind with you; your news will soon revive her. Run at once, Molly; I will undertake to manage the other girls."

Molly set wings to her feet. She soon joined the botanists, who stopped and began to talk eagerly.

"I hope you've had success," said Molly. "Why, what's the matter, Kate?"

"Nothing," said Kate abruptly.

Her face was very pale; there were great black shadows under her eyes.

"We can't think what's the matter with her," said Lucy Rae, one of the botanists. "She was as lively as the best of us until we were coming home."

"I have a headache; it will soon pass off," said Kate. "Don't take any notice of me; I shall soon be quite my ordinary self."

"I want to say something to you, Kate," said Molly suddenly.

Kate looked at her with irritation.

"I am not in the mood to discuss things," she said; "it is quite true that I have a bad headache."

"I won't worry you, dear," said Molly, in her gentlest tones. "Let us walk slowly behind the others."

Kate opened her lips to protest.

Then she changed her mind. She raised her hand to her head, brushing it across her forehead in a bewildered manner. Cecil drew the other girls on, and Molly and Kate were alone.

"Kate," said Molly, the instant this was the case, "I am so happy I can scarcely speak rationally. The load is lifted from my mind. I have found out everything. You would not believe me yesterday when I told you that I never betrayed our confidence."

"I don't remember about yesterday," said Kate.

She turned round and gazed full at Molly. Molly stepped back and stared at her in astonishment.

"You don't remember what you said to me?" she exclaimed.

"No; I can't remember anything. Oh, how my head aches! I feel sick and giddy."

"Lean on me, Kate. What is the matter with you? You look dreadfully ill. Has anything happened? Oh, I thought you'd be so happy when I told you!"

"Don't tell me anything just now, Molly. The fact is, I can't listen. Oh, my head, my head!"

"But just let me say this much. I'm dreadfully sorry you've a headache, but just listen to this much. Cecil has discovered everything. Matilda was at the bottom of the whole matter."

"Matilda!" repeated Kate. She looked quite dazed. "What about her?"

"Kate, she listened behind the summerhouse; she overheard all our conversation. There was a hole in the wood; she listened through that hole. She heard all your story, all about your grandfather and – Kitty, darling, what is the matter? How ghastly you look! Let me help you across the road to this bench. Sit down; lean against me."

There was a stone bench at the opposite side of the road. Molly led Kate to it. She sank down, sick and trembling.

"I'm dreadfully sorry you've such a frightful headache," continued Molly; "but are you not glad?"

"To tell you the truth, Molly," replied Kate, "I don't know what you are talking about. You want to tell me something, but I want to tell you something else, far, far more badly. Something has happened, Molly, and I will tell you while I remember it. The feeling in my head is so dreadful that I don't believe I shall be able to remember anything long. Do you see these ferns in my hand – this sort; it is very rare. I wanted to get it, I was determined to get it. It grows high on the rocks by the shepherd's meadow. I would climb up. The other girls had left me, they were botanizing on their own account a little way off. I gathered some specimens; then I stretched out my hand for a very fine frond, I – I lost my balance – I fell on my head. I didn't remember anything for a bit. I suppose I was stunned. After a time I got better. I thought the dreadful pain and giddiness would pass off. I managed to walk toward the other girls. I determined to tell them nothing. But, oh, Molly, I feel so sick now, so dreadfully ill! Don't talk to me just now, for I really can't listen. It worries me even to see you so earnest and excited. May I lean on you? Can you help me to get home?"

"Yes," said Molly, "I'll do all in the world I can for you, but you must not try to walk with only my help. Just rest where you are, Kitty; lean back, close your eyes. I'll run after Cecil and call her."

"No, don't! I can't bear the others to know. I did wrong when I climbed those high rocks; I broke one of Miss Forester's rules. She makes it a condition that we shall do nothing dangerous. The others mustn't know. If only I can manage to get home and go to bed, I shall be all right to-morrow. Don't speak to me at all for a minute."

As Kate said these last words, she leaned up against the stone wall by which the bench stood, and closed her eyes. After a time she grew better: the terrible giddiness and acute pain passed; she was able to take Molly's arm and go slowly in the direction of Redgarth.

CHAPTER XVI.
THE PROMISE IN THE CATHEDRAL

THERE was consternation at St. Dorothy's: Kate O'Connor was ill; on her arrival home, she was almost unconscious. The doctor was hastily summoned; she was ordered to bed. Miss Leicester had a room made up in the quietest part of the house; she was moved there, and Molly begged hard to be allowed to nurse her. At first everyone hoped that a night's rest would put her right, but the next day the doctor said something about concussion of the brain. He said absolute quiet was necessary; he would not even allow her to be moved to the sanatorium. A trained nurse was sent for, and the girls began to walk about the house with hushed steps and pale, anxious faces.

"The worst of it all is," said Molly to Hester, "that if she thinks at all, poor Kate still believes that I have been unfaithful to her."

"Oh, she does not think of anything specially now," said Hester. "When she is well enough, you must tell her; you must not fret, Molly."

"I can't help it," answered Molly. "I loved Kate very, very dearly, and now she is ill, very ill; and her last thought of all must have been that I was unworthy of her friendship."

"Well, it is a good thing that Cecil and I know the truth now," said Hester, in a cheerful tone. "What Kate wants is rest; she will be herself in a few days, I make not the slightest doubt; then we'll manage to tell what a stanch, little thing you are, Molly. By the way, I do think Cecil a splendid girl. How cleverly she got that horrid Matilda to own up to her sneaking, detestable, sly ways! Certainly Cecil has done Matilda a lot of good; she has taken all the conceit out of her. I only do wish something would induce her to leave the school. Fancy a girl like that coming to St. Dorothy's! If Miss Leicester really knew what sort of girl she is, I think she would ask Miss Forester not to admit her."

At that moment Miss Leicester came into the room where the two girls were talking.

"How is Kate now?" said Hester, going up at once to the principal.

Miss Leicester's face was pale and grave.

"She is very ill," she answered.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Molly, who felt her heart beating with a quick, nameless sort of dread. "Do you mean that – that Kate is in danger?"

"She is very ill," repeated Miss Leicester. "Yes, I suppose there is danger; I fear there is no doubt about it. The doctor has just left; she is unconscious. She must have had a very bad fall. Molly, my dear, she spoke to you about it: did she give you any idea of the height from which she fell? None of the other girls are able to give us any information."

"She only said that she had fallen," answered Molly, "and that the fall stunned her. She hoped that she would be all right after a little, and did not wish the others to know."

"I am not surprised at that," replied Miss Leicester; "she disobeyed a very strict rule. That is the last sort of thing I should have expected from Kate."

"Oh, don't be angry with her now!" said Molly, tears filling her brown eyes.

"No, poor dear child!" said Miss Leicester. "The whole thing is very miserable, and to complicate matters, Nurse Wilkins has been taken ill herself, and has been obliged to leave suddenly. We hope to get another nurse by this evening, for the doctor has telegraphed to London, but in the meantime – "

"Oh, let me go to her!" cried Molly.

"Perhaps you may help a little presently, Molly," said Miss Leicester, looking at her earnestly. "I have noticed that you have a very gentle way, dear; but at present Cecil is with her."

"Cecil!" exclaimed both girls.

"Yes; it seems that Cecil knows a good deal about illness; she nursed her mother through a very long illness. She came to the door to inquire for Kate just when poor Nurse Wilkins had to leave. She came in as if there were nothing unusual the matter, and took her place by Kate's side. Kate was moving her hands restlessly and plucking at the bed-clothes, which is such a bad sign in illness, and Cecil took both her hands and held them, and then she grew quiet. Perhaps you may help after a little, Molly; but I should be sorry to disturb such an excellent nurse as Cecil at present."

Miss Leicester left the room, and Molly, sinking down on the nearest chair, burst into tears.

"If Kate dies I shall never feel happy again," she said, with a sob.

"But she won't die," said Hester; "she's a great deal too strong and young. Why," – Hester wore a troubled look, – "she's only just seventeen. Girls of seventeen don't die merely from a fall. She's bad, but she'll soon be better. Don't cry, Molly!"

"Girls often die," cried Molly. "Oh, Hester! can nothing be done to save her? I wonder if Miss Forester knows how bad she really is."

Hester went up to one of the windows and began to drum her fingers on the glass.

"It's all wretched," continued Molly. "I can't tell you what I feel, Hetty. If only Miss Leicester would let me help in any way, I should not feel so dreadful. I feel, somehow or other, as if I were responsible for Kate's illness."

"Oh, now you are getting horridly morbid!" said Hester. "What had you to do with it?"

"Nothing in one way, of course; but if all this had not happened, Kate would have gone out with me, and not with the other girls, and I would not have let her climb up that awful rock just to get those miserable ferns. Oh, dear! I thought I should be so happy at St. Dorothy's, and now this seems to cast a blank over everything."

"The worst of it is," said Hester, after a pause, "that even if Kate does get well – I don't doubt that for a minute – even if she does get well, she won't be allowed to study for a good while, and then she'll lose her scholarship. I know she has not a great deal of money. She was quite certain of getting the scholarship, and after that, of course, she could, by and by, take a good position as a teacher. After a brain attack of this sort, she won't be allowed to study for some time. Of course one ought not to think of that just now, but in Kate's position, where there is not much money, it is, of course, important."

"Yes," said Molly. "I wish I were with her," she added. "One can scarcely think of examinations at the present moment, can one, Hester? Oh dear; oh, dear! I think I'll just creep upstairs and see if I can help Cecil in any way."

Hester said nothing, and Molly left the room.

She went upstairs, turned down a long passage, and at last paused before a door, over which a heavy curtain had been hung. She turned the handle very softly, and entered the room. All the blinds were down; the light was shaded. At first, Molly could hardly see; then she noticed Cecil's familiar figure seated by the head of the bed. The figure on the bed was lying straight and still; there was no movement or sound of any sort. Kate looked at that moment as if she were dead.

Molly crept up close to the bed; she did not speak at all, nor did Cecil. Presently Cecil stretched out her hand and touched Molly softly on the arm. Molly knelt down close to Cecil. Cecil began to stroke her hair, and, in some inexplicable way, the younger girl felt soothed and comforted by the gentle, firm touch. Kate lay without movement; she scarcely seemed to breathe.

"Is she dead?" asked Molly, in a tremulous whisper.

"No," answered Cecil; "no – not yet."

"Cecil, she can't recover! no one could look as dreadful as that – as still – as – as like marble and recover."

"Don't talk," answered Cecil; "she may hear us."

At that moment the room door was opened, and Dr. Groves, the clever doctor who had undertaken the case, came in; he was accompanied not only by Miss Leicester, but Miss Forester. Miss Forester gave a glance of surprise at Molly and Cecil, and then turned to Miss Leicester.

"I thought you had got a trained nurse," she said.

"Yes," replied Miss Leicester, "but Nurse Wilkins was suddenly taken ill. Cecil offered to help me until I could get someone from town. I did not know that you were here, Molly Lavender."

Molly looked up with eyes of entreaty.

"Let me stay," she said. "I promise to be perfectly quiet, and to do exactly what I am told."

"Yes, let her stay," said the doctor. "There is scarcely any nursing required at present; the patient only requires watching. You may make a little noise, if you like, girls. I don't like this long-continued insensibility. I shall be glad of anything to arouse my patient."

As he spoke he went to one of the windows and drew up the blind. It was evening, and the western sun streamed into the room. Some of its rays fell across the foot of the bed where Kate lay. Her long, black eyelashes lay heavy on her cheeks, her rich profusion of brown hair was flung back over the pillows, her face had a deathly pale, almost waxen, hue; she breathed so faintly that she scarcely seemed to breathe at all. The doctor bent over her and, lifting the eyelids, looked steadily into the eyes. "Bring me a candle," he said suddenly.

Molly started up to fetch one. She returned in a moment or two with a lighted candle in a candlestick, and gave it to Dr. Groves. He passed the light backward and forward before Kate's eyes, she never seemed to flinch. He dropped the lids again, and looked anxiously at Miss Forester.

"I should like to speak to you alone," he said.

Miss Forester took him immediately into the next room. The two girls sat where they were left, with beating hearts. What was the verdict? The doctor's face was very grave.

Miss Leicester, after a moment's hesitation, followed Miss Forester and the doctor into the next room. The girls, who were left behind, heard earnest conversation, an ejaculation or two from Miss Leicester; then footsteps going downstairs; then a great silence – the motionless, indifferent figure on the bed – the awful calm which might mean the end of all things.

Miss Leicester came back presently into the room, her eyes were red as if she had been crying. She stood close to Kate, and looked down at her; her eyes filled up with tears. Molly and Cecil felt their hearts in their mouths.

"What is it?" said Molly at last; "don't – oh, don't keep us in suspense any longer!"

"Come into the next room, Molly, and I will tell you," said Miss Leicester. "Cecil, dear, you shall hear afterward; but if you will stay now quite quiet with dear Kate, you will be helping us best."

Cecil nodded, her eyes were bright, she gave Molly's hand a little squeeze, and Molly rose and followed her mistress into the other room.

The moment she got there, she began to speak with excitement.

"I know what you are going to tell me, and I can't bear it," she said. "Don't tell me, don't! Tell the others, but not me. I – I can't bear it! There is the cathedral near – let me go there. I – I know what you are going to say, but I can bear it best if I am just alone in the cathedral."

"You are excited, Molly, and carried out of yourself," said Miss Leicester. "That is not the best way to meet trouble."

"No, no!" answered poor Molly, "I know that. I am ashamed of myself. If things were different, I should not mind quite so much, but as they are – as they are – if Kate dies, I shall never be happy again."

"You and Kate have not been as perfect friends as you used to be," said Miss Leicester suddenly.

"No," answered Molly, "that is true, that is the bitter part of it all. Kate was angry with me; believing what she did, she had reason to be. I can't tell you, because it is a secret."

"Had it anything to do with Kate's speech on her birthday?"

"Yes; but oh, please don't ask me any more! for I've promised not to tell. If Kate were well now, all would be explained, and all would be happy. I had just got at the truth on Saturday I had gone out to tell Kate, but Kate was suffering then from the effects of her fall, and she could not listen. She believes me to be guilty now of what I never did. Oh, I shall never be happy again if she dies!"

Miss Leicester laid her firm hand kindly on the young girl's shoulder.

"It is a great trial for you, Molly, dear," she answered. "No one can help you in a time of trouble like this but God himself. Sometimes God sends trouble of this kind, just to force us to go direct to him. Perhaps that is the reason why you are going through such a dark cloud, dear Molly."

"But oh, tell me about Kate!" interrupted Molly. "How selfish I am to think only of myself! What does the doctor say of Kate?"

Miss Leicester paused for a minute.

"I cannot conceal the truth from you," she said then. "At the present moment Kate's life is in the greatest danger. Dr. Groves is anxious to consult Sir John Williamson, a great London specialist, about her case. He is going to telegraph to him to come down to Redgarth, and we hope he may arrive to-night. If Sir John Williamson approves, Dr. Groves is inclined to try a certain operation, which may remove the pressure which is now injuring poor Kate's brain. If the operation succeeds, she will get quickly better; if not – "

"Oh, is there any fear?" said Molly.

"There is," replied Miss Leicester; "it is a very serious operation, but Dr. Groves recommends it, because he thinks it is the only chance of restoring Kate to health."

"And when will it be performed?" asked Molly.

"In all probability Sir John Williamson will perform it to-night. We have just heard that an excellent nurse will be here between nine and ten o'clock. The doctor can arrive by the midnight train, and all may be satisfactorily over before to-morrow morning. That is all I know myself, dear Molly. Cecil and I will stay with Kate until the nurse arrives. Perhaps you will tell the others, dear. I trust to you to be brave and calm, and to do what is right in every way. We must have courage. Things look very dark for Kate at present, but all hope is not yet withdrawn."

"Thank you for telling me," said Molly. "Yes, I will try to be brave."

She went slowly out of the room.

In the passage she paused, and gave a longing glance at the door over which the heavy curtain was hung.

"Oh, Kate, Kate, you must live!" she said aloud. "I will pray ever so hard for you. You must not die, dear, darling Kate; I have asked God to spare you, oh, I think he will, I think he will!"

Molly went hastily to her room, and put on her hat. She had a craving, which she could scarcely account for, to be alone in the cathedral. The doors were always open, anyone could go in at any moment. Inside there was perfect calm, a great peace, a great stillness. Molly craved for this stillness now inexpressibly. She managed to slip out of the house without anyone noticing her, and running down the broad carriage-drive, soon reached the beautiful old porch. She went in, heard the swinging doors close softly behind her, and going as far as some of the free seats, entered one and threw herself on her knees.

Up to the present Molly Lavender had had what might be considered, in every sense of the word, a happy life. Her mother had died before she was old enough to understand her loss. Her grandmother had treated her with uniform affection and kindness. Judge Lavender, although a peculiar, and in some ways a selfish, man, had been good to his only child. Molly had been happy at school. Hers was an affectionate as well as an enthusiastic nature. She had been liked by all her schoolfellows. In particular she had been loved by Cecil Ross. Molly had given quite a passion of girlish affection to this friend of her childhood. Cecil and Molly had been chums for many years now.

When Molly came to St. Dorothy's, she was just in the humor to take up a fresh friendship. She had never met anyone like Kate before; Kate had fascinated her. Still, in her heart of hearts she loved Cecil best, but there was something about Kate's gay ways, her brightness, her wit, her fun, which appealed to a fresh side of Molly. Molly had been very proud of Kate's confidence. She had held her little head high when Kate confided in her and made much of her. Then came the dreadful time of reaction – the time when Kate snubbed Molly unmercifully. Molly Lavender was too well born, too rich, too endowed with that sort of things which girls esteem, to have had much experience hitherto of snubbing. Schoolgirls quickly find out whether their companions are encased in the triple armor which good birth joined to money confers. Molly was fifteen, but she had never been really snubbed before. She was astonished and puzzled. The fact that a girl who was of no birth in particular had done this, did not affect her. Molly was too true a lady, in the best sense of the term, not to recognize a real lady when she met her.

She loved Kate deeply, and her conduct hurt her; it hurt her to the point of intense pain. Kate's speech on her birthday had caused Molly's ears to tingle and her heart to swell. She had admired the proud girl, as she stood before her schoolfellows and spoke of the old poetry, the old charm, the old idyllic life, which had passed away forever. Molly had longed to stand by the side of this girl and show every other girl in the school how noble and splendid she was, but the girl herself had repulsed her. The girl, with her own hands, had cast Molly aside. Then had come the explanation; the mystery was cleared. Molly was innocent of the crime imputed to her. She had been given the means to amply exonerate herself; then she had met Kate, and Kate was too ill to listen to her; and now, now Kate O'Connor, beautiful, good, talented, was about to die.

Molly found herself face to face with her first trouble. Many girls of her age had known worse, but to Molly it was full of intense bitterness; a pain which almost reached agony's point. She was hopeless and frightened. It was awful to meet death like this. Death, the invincible, the inexorable! What right had death to come and claim one so young, so full of life, so eminently fitted to do good in the world? Above all, what right had death to come and snatch away Molly's friend?

"She mustn't die," sobbed the girl. "Oh, please, God, don't let Kate die, make her better! let the operation succeed. Give the doctors great wisdom, give them skill, help them to save her life. Oh, God, I am a miserable, weak girl, but I do beg very hard for this – this great boon! oh, do spare Kate's life! Oh, God, do listen to me! if you will spare her life, I'll try very hard to please you; I'll try to be so good; I will give up my life to you. Oh, God, hear me! let it be a bargain between us; spare Kate, and then I'll give up my life to you."

Molly's prayer scarcely comforted her. Still it excited her a good deal; she felt hopeful; she wondered as she left the church if the great God up in heaven, the Maker of all things in heaven above and earth beneath, had heard her little, childish prayer; if he was inclined to consider her poor little bargain. She wondered, she hoped; then she went slowly back to St. Dorothy's.

Miss Leicester was not present at supper. Molly found herself forced to take the head of Kate's table. As she had heard the latest news of Kate, she was immediately made the heroine of the hour. All the other girls flocked round her, asking eager questions in awe-struck voices.

"Is she really in danger, Molly?" asked Hester.

"Yes," said Molly, "yes; but I can't talk of it now."

"Oh, we must know everything!" said Amy. "It is perfectly awful. Why, of course, we all loved Kate better than anyone else in the house! It did not matter a bit about her running about barefooted long ago, nor her grandfather being a sort of peasant king. Kate was just Kate, and we all loved her; oh, she mustn't die!"

"Do sit down, Amy, and eat your supper," said poor Molly. "What is the good of our saying that sort of thing? If God wishes it, she will die; it all rests with God."

"Yes, that is true enough," said Hester. "After all, none of us can do anything; let us get over this horrid meal, and go into the drawing room. For my part, I have no heart for study to-night. I don't know if anyone else has."

"Not I," answered Molly; "my notes and everything must go to the wall. I simply can't think of such stupid things as psychology and physiology, and all those awful inductions and deductions, while my mind is in a whirl."

"Nor I, nor I!" said several other girls.

Supper proceeded in a mournful fashion, and the girls trooped into the drawing room. The pretty room looked cheerful enough, the electric light burned brightly; the piano stood invitingly open. Hester shuddered as she passed it.

"To think that Kate was rattling out waltzes on that piano not a week ago!" she said. "Molly, come here; you have not half told us what you know. Now, you must out with it all, whether it pains you or not. What did the doctor say?"

Molly made a struggle to swallow a great lump in her throat.

"He said that Kate's life was in danger," she answered. "A doctor is coming from London to-night."

"Oh, mercy! then it must be serious," said Alice Rae, a rosy-faced girl of nearly twenty. "When my father died, a doctor came from London. We all gave up hope when he was sent for."

"Are you sure of your facts, Molly?" asked Hester. "A London doctor costs a great deal, and everyone knows that Kate is not well off."

"Well, a doctor has been sent for," said Molly, "for Miss Leicester told me so. His name is Sir John Williamson; he is a great specialist on brain affections. Kate must have hurt her brain very badly when she fell. Miss Leicester says there is something pressing on the brain which causes Kate to be quite insensible. Dr. Groves wants to perform an operation."

"Oh, horrors!" cried Mary Wilson, a room fellow of Kate's. "Are you certain – positively certain, Molly Lavender?

"Yes," answered Molly, who felt important in spite of all her misery, while she was imparting these ghastly details to her hearers. "Sir John Williamson will be here to-night, and if he agrees with Dr. Groves, they will perform the operation."

"To-night!" cried Hester.

"Yes," said Molly, nodding. "Miss Leicester says it will be all over in the morning, and we shall know – we shall know whether – " Her lips quivered, her eyes sought the ground; she found that she could not proceed with her speech.

"Think of it, girls!" said Hester "Think of its happening while we're all asleep!"

"No, I shan't sleep," said Molly.

"Nor I," echoed Amy.

"I am sure, if I do sleep, I shall have the most terrific nightmares," cried another girl. "Oh, dear Kate, what fun she was! Do you remember the name she gave us all in the dormitory – the Dwellers in Cubicles? Why, she made quite a storm in the house with her proposal that selfishness should be evicted. Oh, dear; oh, dear! but, somehow or other, I don't feel that she is going to die."

"Nor I," said Hester, trying to speak cheerfully. "Dr. Groves can't have at all given up the case, or he wouldn't propose an operation. You may be quite certain the London doctor will soon set her right; let us try and be cheerful, let us hope for the best."