“Very well,” replied the woman. “Then I will come to fetch you in half-an-hour’s time, so that you will be ready for prayers in chapel.”
Perhaps Betty Vivian never, as long as she lived, forgot that first day when she stood with her sisters in the beautiful little chapel and heard the Reverend Edmund Fairfax read prayers. He was a delicate, refined-looking man, with a very intellectual face and a beautiful voice. Mrs. Haddo had begged of him to accept the post of private chaplain to her great school for many reasons. First, because his health was delicate; second, because she knew she could pay him well; and also, for the greatest reason of all, because she was quite sure that Mr. Fairfax could help her girls in moments of difficulty in their spiritual life, should such moments arise.
Prayers came to an end; breakfast came to an end. The Vivians passed a very brisk examination with some credit. As Miss Symes had predicted, Betty was put into her special form, in which form Susie Rushworth and Fanny Crawford also had their places. The younger Vivians were allowed to remain in the upper school, but were in much lower forms. Betty took to her work as happily (to use a well-known expression) as a duck takes to water. Her eyes were bright with intelligence while she listened to Miss Symes, who could teach so charmingly and could impart knowledge in such an attractive way.
In the middle of the morning there was the usual brief period when the girls might go out and amuse themselves for a short time. Betty wanted to find her sisters; but before she could attempt to seek for them she felt a hand laid on her arm, and, glancing round, saw that Fanny Crawford was by her side.
“Betty,” said Fanny, “I want to speak to you, and at once. We have only a very few minutes; will you, please, listen?”
“Is it really important?” asked Betty. “For, if it is not, I do want to say something to Sylvia. She forgot to give Dickie his raw meat this morning.”
“Oh, aren’t you just hopeless!” exclaimed Fanny. “You think of that terrible spider when—when——Oh, I don’t know what to make of you!”
“And I don’t know what to make of you, Fanny!” retorted Betty. “What are you excited about? What is the matter?”
“Listen!—do listen!” said Fanny.
“Well, I am listening; but you really must be quick in getting out whatever’s troubling you.”