Betty was making friends rapidly in the school. But the twins, although they were quite popular, still clung very much to each other; and Fanny’s idea was to get at Betty through her sisters. She knew quite well that often, during recess, Sylvia and Hester rushed upstairs, for what purpose she could not ascertain, the existence of the Vivians’ attic being unknown to her. There, however, day by day, Sylvia and Hetty fed Dickie on raw meat, and watched the monstrous spider getting larger and more ferocious-looking.
“He’d be the sort,” said Sylvia, opening her eyes very wide and fixing them on her sister, “to do mischief to some one if some one were not very careful.”
“Oh, don’t, silly Sylvia!” said Hetty with some annoyance. “You know Mrs. Haddo would not like you to talk like that. Now let’s examine our caterpillars.”
“There isn’t much to see at the present moment,” remarked Sylvia, “for they’re every one of them in the chrysalis stage.”
The girls, having spent about five minutes in the Vivians’ attics, now ran downstairs, and went out, as was their custom, by a side-door which opened into one of the gardens. It was here that Fanny pounced on them. She came quickly forward, trying to look as pleasant as she could.
“Well, twins,” she said, “and how goes the world with you?”
“Oh, all right!” replied Sylvia. “We can’t stay to talk now; can we, Het? We’ve got to meet a friend of ours in the lower garden—old Birchall. By the way, do you know old Birchall, Fan?”
“Doddering old creature! of course I know him,” replied Fanny.
“He isn’t doddering,” said Sylvia; “he has a great deal more sense than most of us. I wish I had half his knowledge of worms, and spiders, and ants, and goldfish, and—and—flies of every sort. Why, there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about them. I call him one of the most delightful old men I ever met.”
“Oh,” said Hetty, “you shouldn’t say that, Sylvia! Birchall is nice, but he isn’t a patch upon Donald Macfarlane.”