so hate the sonatinas. I hope my new
teacher will give me some fresh pieces, and won't bother with the
metronome. I think it's that which makes me count wrong. I'll tell her
it's not your fault, anyway. Are you going to teach your nephews and
nieces in Derbyshire?"

"No, they all attend a day school except the baby, who is too young
for lessons. I shall have plenty to do in looking after them and the
house. I hope you will be happy, Sylvia, in your new life. I have
tried to ground you thoroughly, and any future teachers ought to find
you fairly well-informed upon most subjects."

There was very little time left even for the final instructions which
Miss Holt considered necessary; the days seemed literally to fly, and
the last one came only too soon for all concerned. Effie and May
called to say good-bye, much distressed at parting with their
playfellow, and immensely impressed by the preparations, which Sylvia
was secretly extremely proud of being able to show to them.

"You'll be too big to play with us when you come back," said Effie
wistfully.

"No, I shan't," replied Sylvia, kissing them in a rather superior and
patronizing manner. "I shall like to have you just as much at my
Christmas party; but perhaps I shan't care to romp about quite in the
same way, because, you see, when I come back I shall be eleven years
old, and one of Miss Kaye's girls at Heathercliffe House."

CHAPTER III

The Third Class

Heathercliffe House was a large modern building which stood in its own
grounds about a mile from the sea, and an equal distance from the
railway station at Aberglyn. It looked bright and cheerful on the
October afternoon when a cab containing Mrs. Lindsay and Sylvia turned
in at the gate and drove slowly up the drive to the front door.
Sylvia, gazing with eager eyes from the window, noticed the trim
garden, the shrubbery of laurels and rhododendrons, the beds still gay
with geraniums, and the smooth lawns where in the distance she could
just catch a glimpse of girls playing tennis. As the cab passed under
a big chestnut tree she saw a little girl of about her own age run
rapidly to the top of a bank, and, hiding behind a broom bush, peep
down with evident curiosity at the newcomers below. She was a bonny
child with a creamy complexion, blue eyes, and thick, straight, brown
hair, tied with a ribbon that at present hung over her left ear; she
stared hard at Sylvia as the latter leaned out of the window,