“Why, certainly,” said Betty, starting and reddening faintly.
“Oh, dear St. Cecilia,” exclaimed several of the girls, “don’t take Betty from us now! She is such fun!”
“I was amusing the girls by doing a little bit of mimicry,” said Betty. “Miss Symes, did you see me mimicking you?”
“I both saw and heard you, my dear. Your imitation was excellent.”
“Oh, please, dear St. Cecilia, don’t say you are hurt!” cried Sarah Butt.
“Not in the least,” said Miss Symes. “The gift of mimicry is a somewhat dangerous one, but I don’t think Betty meant it unkindly. I would ask her, however, to spare our good and noble head mistress.”
“We begged of her to be Mrs. Haddo, but she wouldn’t,” said Sibyl.
“Come, Betty,” said Miss Symes. She took the girl’s hand and led her away.
“What do you want with me?” said Betty. The brilliance in her eyes which had been so remarkable a few minutes ago had now faded; her cheeks looked pale; her small face wore a hungry expression.