But in the midst of all the fun Janet's heart was not easy.

Last night she had managed very cleverly to induce Miss Delicia to keep silence. She felt as she worked hard at the Fancy Fair, as she made bargains with customers, and laughed and joked and looked the very personification of light-heartedness and gayety, that she must set her wits to work again to-night. Miss Delicia had only promised to keep silence until the fair was over; but Janet was determined that, come what would, Bridget should leave school before Mrs. Freeman knew of her delinquencies.

People were already beginning to depart, when Janet stole up to Lady Kathleen, who was standing in the shade fanning herself with a huge fan.

"Oh, my darling, what a success the whole thing has been," said that good lady. "Aren't you proud, my little Mayflower, of having won the day? I fear the head girl of the school was simply nowhere on this occasion. I am really sorry for her, poor girl. I saw a dowdy, pale-faced, uncouth-looking creature standing by an equally dowdy stall at the other end of the marquee. Is she the school favorite—the school queen, my love?"

"Yes," said Janet, in a low voice; "but please don't speak against her, she is a very dear, very sweet girl. I really felt sorry for her and her friend Dolly Collingwood to-day."

"Dolly Collingwood was, I presume, that stout, bouncing looking young person with the red cheeks. I thought she looked very cross. It's sweet of you, Mayflower, to stand up for them both; but if you think that I could allow Bridget O'Hara, my niece, to be overshadowed by girls of that sort, you are pretty well mistaken. Thank goodness, the whole affair has gone off splendidly. You look a little tired, Mayblossom, but very, very sweet. Your dress is most becoming. I am so delighted to find that the new way of puffing the drapery over the shoulders suits a little mignonne thing like you. As to Bridget, she is a radiant creature—something like the sun in his strength. You, my dear, resemble the pale moon; but don't be vexed, chÉrie, the moon, too, is very lovely."

"I want to speak to you," said Janet, laying her small hand on the great lady's sleeve. "No, of course, I am not the least bit vexed. How could I be vexed with anything you do? You are quite the kindest friend I have ever come across; but I want to talk to you about Bridget."

"Mercy, child, how solemn you look! What about my lovely girl?"

"It is just this: I don't think she is well. She has a great color in her cheeks, it is true, and her eyes shine; but she has eaten nothing all day, and just now when I touched her hand it burned. I am sure she is feverish, and over-excited. I wish, Lady Kathleen—I do wish, most earnestly—that you would take her from the school to-night."

"To-night!" said Lady Kathleen; "you quite alarm me, Janet May. If Biddy is going to be ill there'll be a frightful to do. Why, she's the only descendant we have any of us got; positively the last of the family; the apple of her old father's eye, the core of my heart. Oh, my colleen, let me get to her at once!"

"Please, please," said Janet, "will you let me speak to you?"

"Yes, you dear little anxious creature, I will. Why, there are positively tears in your eyes! I never saw anyone so tender-hearted. Oh, bother that Fancy Fair, I am sick to death of it! Let us walk here in the shade. Now, my dear love, what is it?"

"I happen to know," said Janet, "that Bridget is perplexed and unhappy; she has taken some morbid views with regard to certain matters, and her illness of body is really caused by the unrestful state of her mind. It would be very bad for her if anyone noticed that she were not well, but if anyone with tact—like yourself, for instance, Lady Kathleen—were to take her right away from the school to-night, she would probably get quite well at once. I cannot reveal to you what is worrying her, and I must beg of you not to allude to the subject to her. In many ways she is a most uncommon girl, and she is new to the sort of things that go on here. She is quite morbid, poor dear, because she has not got up higher in her classes, and has not won a prize; but it would never do to mention this to her. Only, Lady Kathleen, please, please, take her away to-night."

"I will," said Lady Kathleen; "I most undoubtedly will. Mum's the word with regard to the reason, of course; but out of this Biddy goes to-day, whatever happens. I don't stir until she goes with me. But there's just one thing more, my sweet little Janet. When are you going away? where are you going to spend your holidays?"

Janet's eyes drooped.

"I—I don't quite know," she said.

"But I do, my darling. I would not part Biddy from such a tender-hearted, affectionate little friend as you are for the world. If Biddy and I leave Mulberry Court to-night, you leave it to-morrow; and I know where you are going to spend your holidays; at Castle Mahun, in dear old Ireland, with Biddy and her father and me. You'll like that, won't you, sweet Mayflower?"

"But I—I am a poor girl," said Janet, coloring.

Lady Kathleen placed her hand across Janet's lips.

"Not another word," she said; "you are my guest, and I pay for everything. Now, run along, dear, and help Biddy with her packing, you had better not mind the bazaar any more. I'll go and tell her that I am going to take her away with me this evening."

Janet ran off with a beating heart.

She saw daylight in the distance, but she also knew that she was by no means yet out of the wood. Miss Delicia was the most good-natured of women, but she was also not without a strong sense of justice; and even if Miss Delicia could have been induced to keep silence, there was Miss Dent, the English teacher, to be considered. Miss Dent looked fierce and uncomfortable all day. An angry glitter had shone in her eyes whenever she turned them in Bridget's direction; this Janet had not failed to observe. Yes, it was all very well to get Bridget away that evening, and to go with her herself; but she might as well spare all her pains if before they left Mulberry Court Miss Delicia had an opportunity of telling her story to Mrs. Freeman.

As Janet was running to the house she met the post boy; he handed her the bag, which happened to be unlocked. In the confusion of the morning the key had got mislaid. Janet took it from him, and, opening it, looked eagerly at its contents. There were only two letters; one for herself, the other, in deep mourning, addressed to Mrs. Freeman. The moment Janet saw this letter she knew what it contained; she also knew that here was an open way out of her difficulty. Mrs. Freeman had a first cousin in Liverpool, who was very, very ill. She was intensely attached to this cousin, whose husband wrote to her almost daily with regard to her health. Janet had often seen the letters, and knew the handwriting. Now, when she saw the black-edged letter with the Liverpool postmark on it, she guessed at once that Mrs. Freeman's favorite cousin was dead.

"I know what I'll do," said Janet to herself; "I'll take this letter to Miss Delicia; I'll tell her how I came by it, and beg of her not to let Mrs. Freeman see it until the worries of the day are over. Miss Delicia will be so pleased with me for this thoughtfulness that, perhaps, she will agree that it is best not to worry Mrs. Freeman about Bridget's naughtiness; at any rate, to-night. This is a bit of luck for me! I'll go and find Miss Delicia at once."

It was not easy to discover that most good-natured, bustling, and obliging little woman. Her movements were so quick, her anxiety to make everyone happy so intense, that she had almost the faculty of being in several places at the same time.

After several minutes' active search, Janet found her in one of the attics, cording a schoolgirl's trunk herself.

"Oh, my dear, what is it?" she said, when the girl entered. "How pretty you look in that stylish frock, Janet! I know Henrietta will scold you for wearing it, but I must own that it is becoming. I am to see my sister on that other unpleasant matter about seven o'clock. Now, what is wrong, my dear?"

"I—I have brought you this," said Janet, her face turning pale, and her voice trembling. "I—I am very sorry, but I thought perhaps you would rather Mrs. Freeman did not have this letter just at present; it came in the post bag, which was unlocked. The post boy gave me the bag, and I looked in. There were only two letters, one for me, and this; I—forgive me, Miss Delicia; it has the Liverpool postmark."

"Good gracious!" said Miss Delicia, "a black-edged letter, and from Liverpool; then it is all over; poor Susan is gone. The will of the Lord be done, of course, but this will be a sore blow to Henrietta."

"I—I thought you'd keep it, and give it to her by and by," said Janet.

"Thank you, my dear; very thoughtful of you; very thoughtful, but I think she must receive it at once, for she will probably wish to go to Liverpool to-night. Poor Susan's husband will—will want her. Oh, this is very, very sad; my dear, loving sister, what a blow I shall have to deal to you!"

"You," said Janet; she came up and laid her hand on Miss Delicia's arm; her face turned ashy white, so much depended on this moment; "you—you won't tell about—about Bridget, at the same time," she gasped.

Miss Delicia stared back at Janet in amazement.

"Of course not!" she said. "Who could be so heartless as to worry Henrietta about school matters at a moment like this?"

"You won't tell Miss Patience, either?"

"I shall, probably, say nothing until Henrietta returns to the Court. How queer you look, Janet; are you ill?"

"No, no, I am very well indeed," said Janet. She bent forward and kissed Miss Delicia on her forehead, and then ran out of the room.