ter," replied Hester. "Betty always
does exactly what she likes. Let's go quickly; let's get away. It's the
best thing she can do. She's been keeping in that howling-fit for over a
week, and it must find vent. She'll be all right when you see her next.
But don't, on any account, ever again mention the heather that we
brought from Craigie Muir. She may get over its death some day, but not
yet."

"Your sister is a very strange girl," said Margaret.

"Every one says that," replied Sylvia. "Don't they, Het?"

"Yes; we're quite tired of hearing it," said Hetty. "But do let's come
quickly. Which is the farthest-off part of the grounds--the place where
we are quite certain not to hear?"

"You make me feel almost nervous," said Margaret. "But come along, if
you wish to."

The four girls walked rapidly. At last they found a little summer-house
which was built high up on the very top of a rising mound. From here you
could get a good view of the surrounding country; and very beautiful it
was--at least, for those whose eyes were trained to observe the rich
beauty of cultivated land, of flowing rivers, of forests, of carefully
kept trees. Very lonely indeed was the scene from Haddo Court
summer-house; for, in addition to every scrap of land being made to
yield its abundance, there were pretty cottages dotted here and
there--each cottage possessing its own gay flower-garden, and, in most
cases, its own happy little band of pretty boys and girls.

As soon as the four girls found themselves in the summer-house, Margaret
began to praise the view to Sylvia.

Sylvia looked round to right and to left. "_We_ don't admire that sort
of thing," she said. "Do we, Hetty?"

Hetty shook her head with vehemence. "Oh no, no," she said. Then, coming
a little closer to Margaret, she looked into her face and continued,
"Are you the sort of kind girl who will keep a secret?"

Margaret thought of the Speciality Club. But surely this poor little
secret belonging solely to the Vivians need not be related to any one
who was not in sympathy with them. "I never tell tales, if that is what
you mean," she said.

"Then that is all right," remarked Sylvia. "And are you the same sort of
girl, Olive? You look very kind."

"It wouldn't be hard to be kind to one like you," was Olive's response.

Whereupon Sylvia smiled, and Hetty came close to Olive and looked into
her face.

"Then we want you," continued Sylvia, "never, never to tell about the
burnt