mbered.

"She was so brilliant, so vivid!" exclaimed Susie.

"There was no one like her," said Olive, "for suggesting all kinds of
lovely things. And then her story-telling--wasn't she just glorious!"

"We mustn't think of any of those things," said Margaret. "But I think
we may all pray--yes, pray--for Betty herself. I, for one, love her
dearly. I love her notwithstanding what she said to-night."

"I think it was uncommonly plucky of her to stand up and tell us what
she did," remarked Martha, speaking for the first time. "She needn't
have done it, you know. It was entirely a case of conscience."

"Yes, that is it; it was fine of her," said Margaret. "Now, girls,
suppose we have a Speciality meeting to-morrow night? You know by our
rules we are allowed to have particular meetings. I will give my room
for the purpose; and suppose we ask Betty to join us there?"

"Agreed!" said they all; and after a little more conversation the
Specialities separated, having no room in their hearts for games or any
other frivolous nonsense that evening.

CHAPTER XVI

AFTERWARDS

When Betty had made her confession, and had left Susie Rushworth's room,
she went straight to bed; she went without leave, and dropped
immediately into profound slumber. When she awoke in the morning her
head felt clear and light, and she experienced a sense of rejoicing at
what she had done.

"I have told them, and they know," she said to herself. "I have given
them the whole story in a nutshell. I don't really care what follows."

Mingled with her feeling of rejoicing was a curious sense of defiance.
Her sisters asked her what was the matter. She said "Nothing." They
remarked on her sound sleep of the night before, on the early time she
had retired from the Specialities' meeting. They again ventured to ask
if anything was the matter. She said "No."

Then Sylvia began to break a very painful piece of information:
"Dickie's gone!"

"Oh," said Betty, her eyes flashing with anger, "how can you possibly
have been so careless as to let the spider loose?"

"He found a little hole just above the door in the attic, and crept into
it, and we couldn't get him out," said Sylvia.

"No, he wouldn't come out," added Hetty, "though we climbed on two
chairs, one on top of the other, and poked at him with a bit of stick."

"Oh, I dare say he's all right now," said Betty. "You will probably find
him again to-day. He's sure to come for his raw meat."

"