“It is quite safe now—poor, beautiful darling!” whispered Betty. “Girls, we must smooth out these sheets; they do look rather dragged. And now we’ll get straight into bed.”
“I am very cold,” said Sylvia.
“You’ll be warm again in a minute,” replied Betty; “and what does a little cold matter when I have saved It? No, I am not going to tell you where it is; just because it’s safer, dear, dearest, for you not to know.”
“Yes, it’s safer,” said Sylvia.
The three sisters lay down again. By slow degrees warmth returned to the half-frozen limbs of the poor little twins, and they dropped asleep. But Betty lay awake—warm, excited, triumphant.
“I’ve managed things now,” she thought; “and if every girl in the school asks me if I have a little packet, and if every teacher does likewise, I’ll be able truthfully to say ‘No.’”
Early the next morning Mrs. Haddo announced her intention to take the Vivians to London. School-work was in full swing that day; and Susie, Margaret, Olive, and the other members of the Specialities rather envied the Vivians when they saw them driving away in Mrs. Haddo’s most elegant landau to the railway station.
Sibyl Ray openly expressed her sentiments on the occasion. She turned to her companion, who was standing near. “I must say, and I may as well say it first as last, that I do not understand your adorable Mrs. Haddo. Why should she make such a fuss over common-looking girls like those?”
“Do you call the Vivians common-looking girls?” was Martha West’s response.
“Of course I do, and even worse. Why, judging from their dress, they might have come out of a laborer’s cottage.”