“Oh, well, you’re not Scotch,” replied Sylvia with a disdainful gesture. “Dickie is a darling to those he loves, but very fierce to those he hates.”
“And is that really why your eyes are so red?” continued the girl—Hilda Morton by name. “Has it nothing to do with that wonderful sister of yours, and the strange fact that she has been expelled from the Speciality Club?”
“She hasn’t been expelled!” said Sylvia in a voice of fury.
“Don’t talk nonsense! The fact was mentioned on the blackboard. If you don’t believe it, you can come and see for yourself.”
“She has left the club, but was not expelled,” said Sylvia. “And I hate you, Hilda! You have no right to speak of my sister like that.”
Meanwhile two girls were pursuing their different ways. Betty was going towards that wing of the building where Mr. Fairfax’s suite of rooms was to be found. She had never yet spoken to him. She wished to speak to him now. The rooms occupied by the Fairfaxes formed a complete little dwelling, with its own kitchen and special servants. These rooms adjoined the chapel; but his family lived apart from the school. It was understood, however, that any girl at Haddo Court was at liberty to ask the chaplain a question in a moment of difficulty.
Betty now rang the bell of the little house. A neat servant opened the door. On inquiring if Mr. Fairfax were within, Betty was told “Yes,” and was admitted at once into that gentleman’s study.
The clergyman rose at her entrance. He recognized her face, spoke to her kindly, said he was glad she had come to see him, and asked her to sit down. “Is anything the matter, my dear? Is there any way in which I can help you?”
“I don’t know,” answered the girl. “I thought perhaps you could; it flashed through my mind to-day that perhaps you could. You have seen me in the chapel?”