Cecily's eyes sparkled for a moment, but suddenly her face clouded. "Oh, it—it would be glorious!" she murmured. "Only—I must not. Even if Miss Benedict doesn't know about it, I know she would forbid it if she did. So—it would be wrong for me to do it!"
"Oh, Cecily! why should you care?" cried Marcia, impatiently, "And why should she object to three girls sending little notes to one another? It would be cruel to forbid that. It isn't really wrong, you know."
"But she isn't cruel to me," Cecily interrupted. "You mustn't think that. She—well, somehow, I feel she would be nice to me, only something is holding her back. She isn't a bit cruel. I sometimes feel as if I could care for her in spite of everything. So I don't want to go against her wishes."
"Well, then," began Janet, "here's a way out of it. We will write to you anyway. Miss Benedict can't forbid us to do that, and you needn't answer at all—needn't even read them, if you don't want to. But we'll write, nevertheless, and you can't prevent it!"
When Cecily smiled, her face lit up as if touched by a shaft of sunlight. And she smiled now.
"I don't believe I ought to read them," she said; "but, oh! it would keep me from being so very lonely. But I must be going back now. I've been longer than usual. Good-by!"
Cecily was still smiling as she turned away, while Janet and Marcia stood looking after her, waving farewell to her as she rounded the corner.