cely must hurry back to school at once, if they are to be
in time for preparation. We shall get into sad disgrace with Miss
Russell if we allow them to be late."

"I think your mother is perfectly sweet," said Lindsay, as Monica walked
with them along the road to the Manor gates.

[Illustration: "I KNOW WHAT MONICA WAS GOING TO SAY"]

"She's just everything in the whole world to me," replied Monica. "I
wish she were stronger, though. She has been ill for such a long time.
The doctor says it would do her good to spend next winter in the south
of Italy, but that, I'm afraid, will be quite impossible. She ought
to go, it might make all the difference," she continued, almost as if
talking to herself; "yet we can't manage it, however much we try,
unless, indeed----"

But here she seemed to recollect the presence of her companions, and
wishing them a hasty good-bye, she turned back to the cottage.

"I know what Monica was going to say," remarked Cicely, as they walked
up the drive.

"She meant her mother would be able to go away if the treasure were
found," replied Lindsay. "Oh! it does seem hard, when they need it so
badly, that it should be shut up somewhere, and doing no good to anybody
at all."

"I think Monica is frightened lest Mrs. Courtenay should grow worse and
die, if they have to stay in England for the winter. I don't believe she
would enjoy a penny of her fortune if it were to come too late for her
to share it with her mother."

CHAPTER VII

Lindsay's Luck

One day, shortly before Whitsuntide, Irene Spencer walked into the
third-class schoolroom with a letter in her hand, and a look on her face
which proclaimed news of some importance.

"I don't believe any of you will ever guess what I've come to tell you,"
she announced. "I've heard this morning from my aunt at Linforth
Vicarage. She writes asking me to spend a few days there at Whitsuntide
(we are to have a short holiday, you know), and she says: 'We have asked
Monica Courtenay, and we should be very pleased if Miss Russell would
also allow you to bring one of your younger schoolfellows who would
prove a nice companion for Rhoda.' My cousin Rhoda is twelve, so I have
to pick out one from among you six. Whichever it is will have an
uncommonly jolly visit, because we always have glorious times at
Linforth."

"How delightful! Oh, do take me!" exclaimed the six in chorus, each
enchanted with such a tempting prospect, and anxious to be the c