The elder girls of the school retired to their rooms at half-past nine. They were all expected to be in bed by ten, when Jessie went round, just opening the door of each room, peeping in, saying, "Good-night, dear," and shutting it again.

On the night that Star had shown Christian Dawson's bill, Christian went to her room as usual. The luxuries of the first days of her residence at Penwerne Manor were quite at an end. The girl stood for a minute by a window that was partly open. From there she caught a glimpse of the rolling waves of the great Atlantic as they burst in magnificent spray upon the shore. She saw the outlines of the great rocks, and farther out the solitary spark of the bell-light at sea attracted her attention. The moon was coming up in the heavens; the sky was cloudless. Christian was very susceptible to the power of Nature. Nature had ever a keen and telling voice for her. Now no smile passed over her face, no look of pleasure. She dropped the curtain and turned aside.

"I am glad the sky is clear; it makes it a little less terrible," she said to herself; and then, without undressing, she lay down between the sheets and covered herself well up.

By and by Jessie's feet coming along the corridor were distinctly heard. She opened door after door, and her cheerful "Good-night, dear," or "Sleep well, my love," sounded like the note of a watchman. Christian's door was open wide; Jessie advanced a foot or two into the room.

"Are you in bed, Christian?"

"Yes."

"Are you comfortable, darling?"

"Yes, thank you, Jessie."

"Then good-night, dear; sleep well."

"Thank you, Jessie; good-night."

The door was shut, and Miss Jessie trotted downstairs. She called the girls of the White Corridor her own special babies, and of them all she loved Christian the best. She could not tell exactly why, but the young girl had found a place in her heart from the very first.

Christian lay quiet for the best part of half an hour; then she rose very softly, and taking up a somewhat heavy basket which she had placed under the bed, crept step by step towards the door. She had managed in the daytime to oil the lock, and it now opened without the least sound. When she got into the corridor the moonlight filled the place with a white radiance; and standing there, as though waiting for her, were Susan Marsh, Maud Thompson, and Janet Bouverie. Susan gave her a nod of approval, and going on in front, approached the stairs which led to the front attic. They all went up in single file, sometimes, notwithstanding every effort, stepping on a creaking board. They reached the door of the attic. Susan took a key out of her pocket, unlocked it, and they entered.

Susan then made certain preparations. She lit three or four candles, not by any means making the illumination which had taken place on the night of Christian's initiation. She drew forward a chair for herself, and an old wooden box turned upside down and one or two stools for her companions.

"Now, Christian," she said briskly, "the contents of the basket, please."

Christian held out the basket without a word.

"Oh, my dear child," said Susan, "how glum you are!—not at all the cheerful sort of companion we want. You have invited us here to a feast——"

"No, I haven't," said Christian, finding her voice.

"You haven't! What an absolutely extraordinary girl, when you bought all those nice things in the basket with your own money! Here we are, prepared to be ever so sweet to you, and ever so grateful, and to demolish at least part of them. Maud, what do you say to a girl who brings up a basketful of tuck and then says she hasn't brought it up? It's a contradiction in terms, isn't it, Maud?"

"Very much so; but why should we quarrel with mere words?" said Maud. "The thing is that Christian has arrived on the scene with a very delicious feast, and we are all dying to set our teeth in some of those cakes. Oh, don't they smell good!"

"You can open the basket," said Christian, "and eat as many as ever you like, Maud; and so can you, Susan; and so can you, Janet."

"Come," said Susan, "do get out of your sulks, Christian. Well, if you won't, we shall enjoy our feast, however unwillingly it is given to us. Now then, for goodness' sake, new Penwernian, arrange the goodies on this table and let us fall to."

Christian immediately went on her knees and took the paper packets from the basket. Opening these, she displayed some cheese-cakes, tarts, and other good things. A number of ginger-beer bottles were next brought forward, and Susan, who complained of a furious thirst, suggested that they should regale themselves with one apiece. A small tin can was therefore filled, and the girls drank in turns. They declared that they were famished, and thought Christian's feast nectar and ambrosia.

"Isn't it wonderful how nice it is to be naughty?" said Susan. "Don't you think so?"

"Scrumptious!" cried Maud.

"For instance," continued Susan, "don't we all go nearly mad with delight over this stolen supper, and yet our bread and cheese and cocoa were scarcely touched an hour and a half ago downstairs?"

"I wasn't hungry then," said Christian, "and I'm not hungry now."

"Oh, you are a kill-joy!" exclaimed Susan. "I only wish it had fallen to the lot of some other girl to be blessed with a little money, and we would have sent you to Coventry long ago."

"If you'd only let me alone you might have all my money," said Christian suddenly.

"Hush, hush!" exclaimed Maud. "You do talk nonsense, Christian. And, Susan, I must say you worry the poor child a good bit. Now then, let us put away the rest of the delicious food. We shall have enough here for to-morrow night, and many nights after. That's a good thing, for we shall have to come up to the attic pretty often to arrange about our great feast."

"Which takes place exactly this day week," said Susan. "Well, Christian, we are very much obliged to you, and you have a vote of thanks from the entire party. We shall expect a little further money just before the great feast, but we are collecting for it, and our funds are pretty considerable. When I think of it," continued Susan, "I feel so excited that I can scarcely sit quiet."

"There is something I want to say," exclaimed Christian at this juncture. "You know the things you made me buy——"

"Made you buy!" cried Susan.

"That you made me buy—that you insisted on my buying," continued Christian firmly. "Well, I went to Dawson's in the High Street and got the things, and brought them home myself in a big basket. I won't say anything about what I felt when I slipped out in the dark. I paid for them, of course, and Dawson gave me the bill. I didn't think very much about it, and when I was studying my Greek history yesterday I slipped it into the book as a mark."

"You did what?" cried Susan.

"I put the bill into the book without thinking. Well, last night Star asked for the loan of my History of Greece. I told her she could take it, and she found the bill, and she showed it to me to-day. She said, too, that we had better not do what we intended to do, for if we did she would tell. She said that I had done a most dishonorable thing when I bought those things in a shop in the town. She is very angry, and she thinks that you had better know that she is angry. That is really why I am here to-night; otherwise you might have got your basket up the attic stairs without any help from me."

Christian dropped down on an upturned box as she uttered the last words. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed straight before her. The other three girls were silent for nearly a minute; then Janet Bouverie took one of Christian's hands and said:

"What a miserable-looking little thing you are!"

"I am very unhappy," said Christian.

"Oh, don't listen to her now," said Susan. "Really her folly passes belief. The idea of putting that tell-tale bill into a common school-book! I never heard of anything so idiotic in the whole course of my life. Where is it now, Christian? Give it to me this minute."

"I haven't got it," said Christian. "Star wouldn't give it to me."

"You mean to tell me that Star has it—Star Lestrange?"

"Yes, I do."

"And she means to keep it, darling," suddenly cried a high, clear, voice, which as usual seemed to fall from the skies.

The next instant the gay, bright face of Star herself shone on the assembled and frightened girls.

"I have come to stay during the remainder of this meeting," said Star in a particularly bright and confident voice. "I am on the committee; you remember that fact, don't you, Susan? Will no one offer me a chair?"

Christian sprang forward and brought another box forward.

"How convenient!" said Star.

She dropped on it, crossed her pretty feet, folded her arms, and looked around her.

"Would you like a cheese-cake, dear?" said Susan, speaking in her usually insolent and bold voice.

She had got over her momentary terror at the sight of Star, and was now rather glad than otherwise at her appearing on the scene.

Now, Star was hungry, and she had naturally a passion for such things as cheese-cakes, queen-cakes, and sweetmeats generally, but she replied in a cold and yet apparently amiable voice:

"Not at present, thank you, Susan, dear. We had better finish our business, had we not? It must be a somewhat important affair to cause you all to meet here between ten and eleven o'clock on a night which is not a general meeting night of the Penwernians."

"We had a good deal to decide," said Susan. "We have to prepare for our next big party; it takes place next week. Have you forgotten, Star?"

"Oh, no," replied Star; "on the contrary, I remember very accurately. When one can only indulge in a good feed of the most unwholesome things in Christendom once a month, is one likely to forget? Nevertheless, Susan, it is strange of you not to have told me; I am a member of the committee."

"I am very sorry," replied Susan. "But really, Star, you are so changeable: at one time the most delightful, pleasant, satisfactory creature on earth, and at other times quite the reverse. We only too eagerly wanted you, dear; of course we did."

Susan held out a fat ungainly hand and tried to take the soft little white palm of Star between her own; but Star resolutely put her hands behind her back.

"I am only here on sufferance," she said; "therefore, I presume I can approve or disapprove. Continue your meeting, ladies; don't, pray, think anything about me. I have forced myself on your society."

"And we are very glad to have you," said Maud. "Aren't we, Christian?"

But Christian said nothing. Star looked at her, and her very bright eyes suddenly softened.

"Come here, Christian," she said, "and stand next to me. Perhaps, after all, though I scarcely thought so this afternoon, you and I are nearer akin than I had any idea of."

"By the way," said Susan, "I don't quite understand you, Star. You are on the committee; you are a Penwernian, and you must clearly understand that if three of the committee assemble at any time, it is what is called a quorum, and we are permitted to act for the good of the rest. We are here now arranging for our next delightful reunion in this attic. We propose that there should be an extra scene of magnificence on that occasion. For instance, we shall wear our fancy dresses."

Star's eyes now became brighter than ever, and her little feet ceased to cross themselves, but were put down firmly on the old deal floor of the attic.

"We shall wear our fancy dresses and disport ourselves in the most delightful fashion in the world," said Susan. "Christian's dress is not yet made, but that can be arranged. Now, however, to the case in point. You know that although our kind teacher, Miss Peacock, does not say she approves of our meetings, yet she practically gives her consent to our having them; otherwise she surely would not allow Jessie to blink at the fact and let us all assemble here without taking any notice. But there is always the danger of being too confident, and it certainly was a very mad thing of Christian Mitford to do to leave a bill from a shop in town in her history-book. We should get into terrible trouble if that were discovered. I hear, Star, that you possess the bill. Perhaps you have it now on your person. If so, will you kindly tear it up in our presence?"

"Yes, I have it on my person," said Star. She sprang to her feet as she spoke. "And, girls," she continued, "I do not mean to tear it up; I mean to keep it. What I shall do with it eventually I am not prepared to disclose to-night; but I shall keep it, Susan and Maud and Janet, as a reminder to you that I have you in my power, and that if you do anything again really to break the acknowledged rules of the school, I shall disclose the story of this bill to Miss Peacock. I don't want to make serious mischief, but noblesse oblige does form part of my internal arrangements. I may do a wild thing and a silly thing, but I will not do a mean thing. You know the fixed rules of the school with regard to buying things in the shops. Why did you send Christian to Dawson's? Why did you force her to spend her money? You did it, Susan; I want to know the reason."

"And I," said Susan, "will not tell you."

"All right. I give you twenty-four hours from now. If you do not tell me all about the hold you have on Christian Mitford within twenty-four hours, I shall go to Miss Peacock and show her this bill."

"And get Christian and the rest of us into the most dreadful trouble," said Maud. "You can't possibly mean it, Star."

"Yes, but I do mean it; and I think you all know me. When I have made up my mind, it is made up."

"You will be a tell-tale and a turn-coat. You will be hated in the school," said Susan.

"Perhaps so," replied Star; "but I shall do it all the same. Christian, come downstairs and go to bed this minute. Oh! I am tired of underhand ways. I believe I shall cease to be a Penwernian. As to the rest of you, you can please yourselves, but Christian comes down with me. And, Susan, remember—I mean everything that I say. At seven o'clock to-morrow evening I shall be in the bowling-alley. You can come and walk with me there or not, just as you please. If you come, well and good. You can tell your story, and I will decide after hearing it how to act. If you don't come I shall show the bill to Miss Peacock. Au revoir, ladies. Come, Christian."