the queen lost all sense of royal dignity in irrepressible admiration.
"Seven and sixpence," Emily remarked, looking at her own night-gown and
despising it. One after another, the girls yielded to the attraction of
the wonderful lace. Slim and plump, fair and dark, they circled round
the new pupil in their flowing white robes, and arrived by common
consent at one and the same conclusion: "How rich her father must be!"

Favored by fortune in the matter of money, was this enviable person
possessed of beauty as well?

In the disposition of the beds, Miss de Sor was placed between Cecilia
on the right hand, and Emily on the left. If, by some fantastic turn of
events, a man--say in the interests of propriety, a married doctor, with
Miss Ladd to look after him--had been permitted to enter the room, and
had been asked what he thought of the girls when he came out, he would
not even have mentioned Francine. Blind to the beauties of the expensive
night-gown, he would have noticed her long upper lip, her obstinate
chin, her sallow complexion, her eyes placed too close together--and
would have turned his attention to her nearest neighbors. On one side
his languid interest would have been instantly roused by Cecilia's
glowing auburn hair, her exquisitely pure skin, and her tender blue
eyes. On the other, he would have discovered a bright little creature,
who would have fascinated and perplexed him at one and the same time. If
he had been questioned about her by a stranger, he would have been at
a loss to say positively whether she was dark or light: he would have
remembered how her eyes had held him, but he would not have known of
what color they were. And yet, she would have remained a vivid picture
in his memory when other impressions, derived at the same time, had
vanished. "There was one little witch among them, who was worth all the
rest put together; and I can't tell you why. They called her Emily. If
I wasn't a married man--" There he would have thought of his wife, and
would have sighed and said no more.

While the girls were still admiring Francine, the clock struck the
half-hour past eleven.

Cecilia stole on tiptoe to the door--looked out, and listened--closed
the door again--and addressed the meeting with the irresistible charm of
her sweet voice and her persuasive smile.

"Are none of you hungry yet?" she inquired. "The teachers are safe in
their rooms; we have set ourselves right with Francine. Why keep the
supp