the
announcement that she would go to bed an hour earlier than usual, in
order to get a good start for the next day.

All that week she worked with a restless energy that kept her keyed to
the highest pitch of effort. She scarcely ate, and her sleep was broken,
but her eyes were so bright and her manner so animated, that Betty wrote
home that Lloyd's little spell of illness seemed to have done her good.

By studying before breakfast, and snatching every minute she could spare
from other duties, she managed to have perfect recitations in each
study, and at the same time to make up the lessons she had missed. Five
o'clock Saturday afternoon found her with the last task done. She
slipped ten more little Roman pearls over the silken cord; five for the
week's advance work, and five for the days she had missed. Then with a
sigh of relief she put the sandalwood box into her trunk, already partly
packed for home-going, and flung herself wearily across the bed.

The mock Christmas tree had been lighted the evening before, and the
gifts distributed. She had not enjoyed it as she had expected to,
although some of the jokes were excruciatingly funny, and the girls had
laughed until they were limp. She was too tired to laugh much. She was
glad that Sunday was coming before the day of leave-taking. She made up
her mind that she would skip dinner, and ask Betty just to slip her
something from the table.

Then she remembered that this was the night the carols were to be sung
in the chapel. She could not miss that. It was the prettiest service of
all the year, the old girls said. Some one had told her it was a custom
for everybody to wear white to the carol-singing, but it was hard to
remember things, maybe she had only dreamed it. She wished that she did
not have to remember things, but could lie there without moving, until
morning. What was it her mother used to sing to her? "Asleep in the arms
of the slow-swinging seas." Oh! The white seal's lullaby. That was what
she wanted. How good it would feel to be rocked by the restful motion
of the waves, to be caught in that long sleepy sweep of the
slow-swinging seas.

When she opened her eyes again it was to find the room lighted, and
Betty dressing for the carol service. She had slept an hour.

"It'll never do to miss the carols," Betty assured her, when she
suggested skipping dinner. "Come on, I'll help you dress. Just tell me
what you want to wear, and I'll lay out your things whi