s were alight, she
had crept away by herself to wonder where madcap Betty was. She felt
quite sure she would go home again quite safely, she was always doing
terrible things without any harm coming to her.

The tears that fell from Dot's eyes were not for Betty, but altogether
for herself. She had disowned, by not owning, her sister! She had been
afraid to step forward before those thirty pairs of eyes and say, "This
is my sister!" And she felt as one guilty of a mean and dishonourable
deed.

"I will tell every girl in the school in the morning," she said; and
then, as her repentance increased: "I will tell them to-night."

And to her credit be it spoken, she descended to the schoolroom and
weepingly told her story.

Some of the girls laughed, most of them "longed to know Betty," and all
of the "intimate" friends tried to comfort Dot.

"You're _such_ a darling," said Mona. "You've made us all love you more
than ever."

She was very enthusiastic for she _felt_ that Dot had been afraid and
had conquered fear.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BENT-SHOULDERED OLD GENTLEMAN

"Let's go somewhere and count my money," said Betty, when she had
watched the last pupil of Westmead House disappear down the long avenue.
"You see I _easily_ make a shilling an hour, don't I?"

John admitted she had chosen a good paying profession; and that if
"things" didn't improve with him very soon he should try singing in the
frequent spare moments of his errands running.

The day wore on, and although it must be recorded that Betty did not
always make a shilling an hour, her "takings" were very fair,
considering many things, notably her lack of voice and great shyness so
soon as anything approaching an audience gathered around her.

[Illustration: "Only a little barefooted girl asleep--fast asleep upon
his lounge."]

By six o'clock a great weariness had crept over her. Unused to city
pavements, her limbs ached wofully, her feet were blistered and swollen,
her head ached from the noises of the busy city, and her heart ached for
her little white bed at home. For the day was growing old and it was
almost bed-time.

Presently the stars stole out and began to play at hide and seek, and
Betty who had finished counting her money again, was still standing
tiredly on one foot at the corner of Market and George Streets, waiting
for John--John who had promised to be with her at six; and now it was
after seven and he had not come.

The tears wer