lia's delightful room! Surely that was no great hardship?"

"Wait until you hear. St. Cecilia was quite kind, as she always is; and
I was told that I could have a room to myself to-night. I found, to
begin with, however, that most of the clothes I wanted had been left
behind in my own room. Still, I made no complaint; although, of course,
it was not comfortable, particularly as Miss Symes intended to sit up in
order to see the doctors. But as I was preparing to get into bed, those
twins--those horrid girls that you make such a fuss about,
Martha--rushed into the room and put an awful spider into the center of
my bed, and when I tried to get rid of it, it rushed towards me. Then I
screamed out, and Susie and Olive came in. But we couldn't catch the
spider nor find it anywhere. You don't suppose I was likely to go to bed
with _that_ thing in the room? The fire went nearly out. I was hungry,
sleepy, cold. I assure you I have my own share of misery. Then Miss
Symes came in and ordered me to bed. I went, but hardly slept a wink.
And now you expect me to be as cheerful and bright and busy as a bee
this morning!"

"Oh, not cheerful, poor Fanny!--we can none of us be that with Betty in
such great danger; but you can at least be busy, you can at least help
others."

"Thank you," replied Fanny; "self comes first now and then, and it does
on the present occasion;" and Fanny marched to Miss Symes's room.

Martha looked after her until she disappeared from view; then, with a
heavy sigh, she went towards her own room. Here a fire was burning. Some
breakfast had been brought up for the twins, for they were not expected
to appear downstairs that morning. The untasted breakfast, however,
remained on the little, round table beside the fire, and Sylvia and
Hetty were nowhere to be seen.

"Where have they gone?" thought Martha. "Oh, I trust they haven't been
so mad as to go to Betty's room!"

She considered for a few minutes. She must find the children, and she
must not trouble any one else in the school about them. Dr. Ashley had
paid his morning visit, and there was quietness in the corridor just
outside Betty's room. Martha went there and listened. The high-strung,
anxious voice was no longer heard crying aloud piteously for what it
could not obtain. The door of the room was slightly ajar. Martha
ventured to peep in. Betty was lying with her face towards the wall, her
long, thick black hair covering the pillow, and one small hand