u mean by that?" asked Aneta.

"Say what you want to say. I am the stepdaughter of a grocer, and I
have broken one of the strictest rules in the school. When will you
tell Mrs. Ward? I had better leave at once."

"You needn't leave at all."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Aneta, "that if you will tell Mrs. Ward everything--all
about your stepfather, and all about your selling that jewel and going
out without leave--I am positively sure that dear Mrs. Ward will not
expel you from the school. I am also sure, Maggie, that there will not
be one girl at Aylmer House who will ever reproach you. As to your
stepfather being what he is, no girl in her senses would blame you for
that. You are the daughter of Professor Howland, one of the greatest
explorers of his time--a man who has had a book written about him, and
has largely contributed to the world's knowledge. Don't forget that,
please; none of us are likely to forget it. As to the other
thing--well, there is always the road of confession, and I am quite
certain that if you will see Mrs. Ward she will be kind to you and
forgive you; for her heart is very big and her sympathies very wide;
and then, afterwards, I myself will, for your sake, try to understand
your position, and I myself will be your true friend."

"Oh Aneta!" said Maggie.

She ran up to Aneta; she took her hand; she raised it to her lips and
kissed it.

"Give me till to-morrow," she said. "Promise that you won't say
anything till to-morrow."

Aneta promised. Maggie went to her room.

CHAPTER XXII.

ANETA'S PLAN.

The girls downstairs wondered why Maggie Howland did not appear. After
an hour of waiting Kathleen O'Donnell took the lead. The accounts were
left alone, but the tableaux vivants were diligently rehearsed, the
Tristrams and Jane Burns being the three critics; Rosamond Dacre,
Kathleen O'Donnell, and Matty and Clara Roache the performers. But,
somehow, there was no life in the acting, for the moving spirit was
not there; the bright, quick eye was missed, the eager words were
lacking, with the pointed and telling criticism. Then there was the
scene where Maggie herself was to take a part. It was from _The
Talisman_, and a night-scene, which she was able to render with great
precision and even beauty, and the dun light would be in her favor. It
was to be the crowning one, and the last of the tableaux. It was
expected to bring down the house. But Maggie was not there, and the
gi