om, and we will ask
Lottie to dance her pretty scarf-dance for us, as she looks the only
cool member of the party. There's your scarf, dear, in that drawer, and
Miss Bruce will play for you. You dance so nicely that it is a pleasure
to see it."

Lottie blushed with pleasure at such words of praise, and took her place
in the centre of the room with smiling alacrity, and the watchers
whispered admiringly to each other as they looked at the dainty, satin-
clad figure. Lottie was not really pretty, but she was always so
charmingly dressed that she gave the effect of beauty, and to-night in
her gala frock she certainly looked her best. She danced gracefully and
modestly, waving her chiffon scarf in the air, and moving it to and fro
in a manner which looked easy enough, but which was in reality extremely
difficult, and required no little effort of strength, so that by the
time the dance was finished she was as flushed as her friends, and her
breath came in quick, short pants. Poof--how hot she felt, and how
tired! It was a relief to give the scarf into Mademoiselle's
outstretched hands, and be free to feel for a handkerchief with which to
wipe the moisture from her brow. There was a little difficulty in
finding her pocket, and the girls watched her fumbles with amused
attention. It was a little pause in the evening's entertainment, and
for want of something better to do all eyes were fixed upon the figure
which stood so prominently in the middle of the room. "Try again!" they
cried encouragingly, and Lottie made yet another dive downwards. This
time she was successful, for her hand disappeared into her pocket, and
presently jerked upwards, bringing with it a small lace handkerchief
rolled up into a ball, as if it had lain forgotten since the last time
that the dress was worn. She flicked it in the air, and at that
something flew out and clattered on the floor near her feet.
Mademoiselle stooped to pick it up, and threw up her hands with a cry of
dismay. It was a piece of glass, about half an inch in size, and in one
corner was clearly discernible the end of an engraved letter--the letter
"T!"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

EXPLANATIONS.

"Pixie, awake! awake! Oh, Pixie, open your eyes! Get up, dear, get up!
We want you downstairs!"

Margaret bent over Pixie's bedside, tears shining in her eyes, and
lifting the slight figure in her arms, shook it to and fro, until the
grey eyes opened in astonishment, and a sleep