,
closed and locked the door. Through their wild peals of laughter the
girls heard a strange moan and a heavy fall.

"I believe she has fainted," said Belle.

"What shall we do?" said another.

For a moment they stood there sober enough; then one of them ran for
the matron and told her that Fannie Comstock had fainted in her room
and the door was locked.

She had a long ladder put to the window, and sent the janitor to see
if it was true. Fortunately the window was open, and in a few moments
he had unlocked the door from the inside. The girls were huddled
together in a frightened group, while Madam lifted the poor girl and
laid her upon her bed. She was in violent spasms. The doctor was sent
for, but when the spasms ceased, alarming symptoms set in, and he
pronounced it a serious case of brain fever. It is impossible to tell
the shame and remorse of the conscience stricken girls. They were not
brave enough to confess their guilt, but hung around the sick room,
offering their services, vainly wishing that they might atone for it
in some way. But their presence only excited the poor sufferer, so
that they were all sent away. Day after day passed, and still she
raved in violent delirium. The little hair trunk was searched to find
some clue to her friends, but there was nothing found in it but the
plainest, scantiest supply of clothes. Day after day the doctor came,
looking grave and anxious, and at last the crisis came. For many hours
she lay as if dead, and not a noise was permitted to disturb the awful
silence while they waited to see if she would live or die. At last she
opened her eyes; and the suspense was relieved by an assuring word
from the doctor, that with careful nursing she would soon be well
again. But her convalescence was slow and tedious.

Her former tormentors dared not speak of what they had done, but they
sent daily little bouquets of fragrant flowers and other delicacies to
tempt her returning appetite. Her eyes would light up with surprise
and pleasure at the little gifts. And amidst all her wild ravings not
a word of complaint at the ill treatment she had received ever escaped
her lips.

One day Madam was sitting by her side, and as Fannie seemed to be much
stronger, she ventured to ask after her friends.

"I have no friends, Madam, only Cousin John, who has a large family of
his own, and has never cared for me. Mother died when I was born. I
had a step-mother, but father died five years afte