shed all the scent-bottles in the world. I never meant to do any
harm. I didn't know it was wrong to go into Mademoiselle's room. No
one ever said I mustn't. Molly, our maid, broke something every day of
her life at Bally William, and no one disturbed themselves about it.
What's a scent-bottle? Suppose I _had_ broken it, why should they make
such a storm, I should like to know?"

Her sentences were broken by sobs and tears, and her companions had
learnt by now that Pixie's outbursts of grief were not to be trifled
with, for while other girls shed tears in a quiet and ladylike manner,
Pixie grew hysterical on the slightest pretext, and sobbed, and wailed,
and shivered, and shook, and drowned herself in tears until she was in a
condition of real physical collapse. To-night Kate signalled
imperiously to Flora to depart to her own cubicle, and herself bundled
the shaking, quivering little creature into bed, where she left her with
a "good-night" sufficiently sympathetic, but--oh, agonies to a sensitive
heart!--without attempting the kiss which had become a nightly
institution!

Next morning Pixie's face was still swollen and puffy, but her elastic
spirits had sufficiently recovered to enable her to make repeated
attempts to converse with her taciturn companions, and to run in and out
of their cubicles to play lady's-maid as usual, in such useful,
unostentatious ways as carrying water, folding nightgowns, and tying
hair ribbons. This morning she was even more assiduous than usual in
her attentions, for there was an edge of coldness and reserve in the
manner even of Flora herself which cut deeply into the sensitive heart.
Then when she had fully dressed, she gathered together Lottie's fineries
and betook herself to the room which that luxurious young lady occupied
in solitary splendour.

Early as she had been in leaving her cubicle, breakfast had already
begun when Pixie made her appearance downstairs, and the furtive manner
in which she entered the room, was not calculated to dispel the
suspicions, with which she was regarded. Her "good-morning" to the
teachers was a mere mumble, and oh, how formidable they looked! Miss
Phipps with tight lips and a back like a poker; Mademoiselle, a vision
of misery, and Fraulein and Miss Bruce staring at the tablecloth as if
afraid to raise their eyes. As for the girls, they munched away in
silence, no one daring to make a remark, and it was significant of the
solemnity of the