At an early hour on the following day there was an arrival at Penwerne Manor. An old woman got out of a cab and entered the house. She was accompanied by a pretty-looking little girl. This old woman was met in the hall by Jessie.

"That's right," said Jessie. "I'm so glad you have come. Christian is much better, and I am sure your face and the face of this dear little girl will be the best possible restorative."

The woman gave a very respectful courtesy.

"Mind your manners, Rosy," she said to the small girl, who dropped a courtesy in exact imitation of her relative; and then they went upstairs.

Girls peeped out at them from behind doors not quite tightly shut, and soon it was repeated all over the school that Christian Mitford's old nurse had come to look after her, and that a wonderfully pretty little girl of the name of Rosy had come to help nurse and to cheer Christian up.

Nurse and Rosy had a room all to themselves in the White Corridor, and Christian smiled when she saw old nurse, and allowed Rosy to kiss her once or twice. But she was still too weak to speak much; or indeed, for that matter, to think much.

Rosy was very much admired by all the different girls in the school, and when a day or two had passed, and Christian still made rapid progress towards recovery, Rose was invited downstairs.

"May we have that dear little girl to play with us?" asked Star, going into Miss Peacock's room.

"Yes, dear; certainly. Rose is an old friend of Christian's, and seems quite a nice child. I believe her great-aunt wants to have her trained as a lady's-maid. Of course, I know nothing about her, except that she belongs to that particularly nice, intelligent old woman."

"Well, a little talk with her will do us no harm," said Star; "and perhaps," she added, "it will do Rose no harm either. She is quite as good as some of the girls in this school, and very much prettier."

"By the way, Star," continued the head-mistress, "in the great relief that Christian's recovery has caused, I have not forgotten certain things that have taken place in this school. There are one or two matters which need inquiry into. Your cheeks, my dear, are a great deal paler than they ought to be; and your eyes, which used to be so happy that it was a perfect pleasure to look at them, are now more sad than I like to see them. In short, there are matters which need to be inquired into and cleared up."

"Oh, there are—indeed there are!" interrupted Star, and she burst into tears.

"My dear Stella, have you made up your mind to confide in me or not?"

"I don't want to be hard on the others; and then I've not been a bit good myself," said Star. "If I could tell you everything without making the others dreadfully wretched, I would; but please don't question me."

"The time for questions is past, Star. I just gave you that one last chance. I mean now to act on my own initiative."

Star left the room. She stood for a minute outside in the great hall. This was a half-holiday, and it happened to be a pouring wet day. The rain seemed absolutely to stream from the skies; you could scarcely see out of the window-panes. The booming of the billows outside made a melancholy sound. The girls stood about in groups, as was their custom during a wet half-holiday. They grumbled at the weather. Who does not?

Suddenly, however, the appearance of little Rose Latimer coming rather timidly downstairs, wearing a dark-blue frock and a white pinafore, caused a diversion.

"Who is that pretty little girl?" said Angela Goring.

Star, who had been standing looking as dismal as a girl could, now brightened up.

"Oh, that is little Rosy Latimer, a great friend of Christian's. Do let us ask her to come and sit with us for a bit. She seems so nice, and is so pretty."

"I don't know her," said Angela. "You go and speak to her, Star."

A lot of girls were standing about in the hall. Amongst them were Susan Marsh and her satellite, Maud Thompson. Maud now hardly ever left Susan's side. Susan's face was gloomy, and at the same time obstinate. She looked resolved to go on at any cost, following her own sweet will. Maud was thoroughly subdued and wretched. The advent of Rose—a person with fresh interests—on the scene therefore caused an agreeable diversion.

Rose was quite ignorant of the manners of schools and the ways of schoolgirls—at least those of the upper classes were unknown to her—but she was being rigidly brought up by a most aristocratic old woman, for no one could have more aristocratic ideas than nurse. She dropped her courtesy, therefore, as she had been told to do, and smiled with great pleasure when Star invited her to come into their midst.

"I am very much obliged, miss," said Rose, and then she dropped another courtesy.

"You needn't courtesy, Rose," said Star. "It's a wet day, and we are all glad to have some sort of diversion. Please, sit there, won't you?—there, in that easy-chair near the ingle-nook—and tell us all you can about Christian."

"What is your name, child?" interrupted Susan Marsh.

Rose looked full at Susan, and then knit her pretty brows.

"I am Rosy Latimer," she said. "And my great-aunt is Mrs. Peach; and Mrs. Peach is, or was nurse to Miss Christian."

"How is Christian, Rose? Is she really getting much better?" asked Star.

"Yes, miss; I think so. She takes her meals, and she sleeps regular; and my aunt says a sick person can't be expected to do more."

"You must have been very glad indeed when you were asked to come here in such a hurry—weren't you?" asked Maud Thompson. "We were surprised when we heard that Christian's old nurse and a little girl were coming to look after her. We thought Christian must be very ill indeed. You were glad, weren't you?"

"Well, miss," said Rose, who, notwithstanding her good manners, was by no means troubled with shyness, "my aunt and me, we were more frightened than glad. We didn't know whatever could be up. And aunt, she cried most of the way down. She cried very near as much as she did that time when me and Miss Christian ran away together."

"Oh, you ran away together!" said Angela.

Star suddenly laid her hand on Angela's knee as though to repress her. Susan's face turned crimson and then deadly white. Rose, however, did not notice the effect of her words.

"Ah, we had a time!" she said, and her eyes grew full of the recollection. Suddenly she burst into a laugh.

"What is the matter?" said Star. "How strange you look! Why do you laugh?"

"I am only thinking of Miss Christian and me, and the face of the woman who looked in at the window. Oh, weren't Miss Christian brave!"

One or two of the other girls had come up, and they were now looking intently at Rose. Star, whose first impulse it was to prevent Rose from saying anything, to keep her silent at any cost, changed her mind.

"One moment," she said.

She sprang to her feet. Rose immediately sprang to hers and dropped a courtesy.

"Thank you, young ladies," said Rose, "but maybe I ought to be going up to my great-aunt, Mrs. Peach. She says I'm never to forget my manners. I'm never to forget that I'm only a poor little girl, and that you are grand young ladies."

"I am sure you are a very nice little girl," said Angela; "and a very interesting little girl, too. Star, is she to go? What do you think?"

"I want to see Miss Peacock," said Star. "Stay here, Rose, till I come back. And, Rose, don't tell any of that interesting, lovely story until I return."

Star ran along the corridor. She stood for a moment as she approached Miss Peacock's door.

"They wouldn't tell what they knew, and they wouldn't let Christian tell, and perhaps Rose is going to put everything right," she thought. "And she could give us a really unvarnished statement. She could tell us the very, very truth."

She burst open the door of Miss Peacock's room. She did not even wait to knock. Miss Peacock was sitting at her desk. She turned in some amazement when Star, her eyes shining with excitement, came towards her.

"Miss Peacock," said the little girl, "you know, don't you, why Christian didn't come to school with the rest of us? I mean, why she came a whole fortnight later."

"I don't understand you, Star."

"Oh, please don't be angry! You know the whole truth, don't you?"

"Certainly."

"And you resolved that it should not be told to the school?"

"I thought it best. I do not understand you."

"It wasn't best," said Star. "It is wrong of me to say so to you, but I must say it. It was not best. Do you know the little girl who has come with Christian's nurse to stay here?"

"A child of the name of Rose Latimer. She is a great friend of Christian's; I sent for her on purpose. Why?"

"Miss Peacock, you gave us leave to have little Rose to play with us. She is in the midst of a group of girls now in the great hall, and she began of her own accord to tell that story that you didn't wish Christian to tell. May she go on with it, and will you come and listen?"

Miss Peacock jumped up suddenly. She looked hard at Star just for a minute; then she took her hand.

"Come," she said.

They entered the hall. At the sight of the head-mistress the girls arose and dropped a courtesy, and looked more or less unlike themselves, and more or less on their good behavior. Even Angela, one of the best of girls, remained standing in a respectful attitude, and had she been asked to speak, her words would not have come with perfect ease.

But to Rose Miss Peacock was only just a beautiful lady without any other significance whatever. Rose dropped a courtesy, in the correct manner taught her by Mrs. Peach, and looked quite easy in her mind. Miss Peacock said:

"Will someone place me a chair?"

One of the girls rushed to get one. Then Miss Peacock sat in the midst of the group, with Star at her left hand and Angela at her right, and she managed so to sit that she should be opposite Susan Marsh. Then she turned to Rose.

"We are in the mood for a story," she said. "We have all told each other our stories, and our stories are somewhat stale. They relate to school life and school adventures. Now we want a story outside of school life. Who will tell us one?"

"I could if you wished it," said Rose.

"We do wish it, Rose. Will you?"

"It is Miss Christian's story," continued Rose.

"Go upstairs, Rose—very, very quietly—and ask Christian—very, very quietly—if you may tell her story to us. If she says no, you will not tell it us; but if she says yes, then you will tell us the wonderful tale."

"Oh! it is wonderful and beautiful and everything else," said Rose. "Yes, I will go upstairs."

She ran quickly up the broad stairs, went down the White Corridor, and softly opened the door of the room where nurse sat by her darling's bedside. Christian, well enough now to be wide awake and smiling, was listening to words from the old woman's lips.

"Now, what is it, Rosy?" said Mrs. Peach. "What's the matter with you? You do seemed pleased about something."

"It's a message I have to give to Miss Christian," said Rose; "and it's from the lady they call Miss Peacock."

"My word!" cried nurse. "Why, she's the lady of the school; she's the head-mistress. She's a sort of queen here."

"What is the message?" asked Christian.

"It's nothing as is to bother Miss Christian," said nurse. "There! you have made her cheeks quite pink. What is it, Rose? Out with it."

"They want a story," said Rose. "There are a lot of 'em downstairs. Some of 'em are beautiful-looking young ladies, and others dull and stupid enough. There's one I didn't like a bit. I wouldn't know her if I had to live in the slums all my life. They all want a story just like any other girls. They know their own stories, they say, and they want a new one from me; and I thought I'd tell 'em the story of me and you, Miss Christian. And Miss Peacock, the grand head-mistress, the queen of the place, said:

"'Yes, you can tell that story if Christian wishes it. If Christian says yes, you may tell it; but if Christian says no, you must not tell it. You go up,' says Miss Peacock, 'and ask her now, and do it very quietly.'

"So do you wish it, Miss Christian? Shall I tell the story? It'll hearten 'em up a good bit; it's real prime, that tale is."

"Yes," answered Christian. She turned away as she said the words, but there was a smile in her eyes. "Yes, it will be the way out, and a great, great relief. Tell them, Rose, and God bless you!"

Rose rushed from the room, and the next minute appeared again in the hall.

"Miss Christian looked sadly weak, but she'd like me to tell the tale. She thinks it a very, very good plan," said Rose.

"Then sit here, Rose," said Miss Peacock. "Sit just here, facing me, and tell your story exactly in your own way, just in the words you like best to use. I am sure we shall all listen with great attention."

"If you please, Miss Peacock," said Susan Marsh, "need I stay? I have a letter to write to my father; and my exercise for Miss Forest is not half finished."

"Yes, you must stay, Susan," replied Miss Peacock.

"But my exercise——"

"Never mind that now. Stay. Begin, please, Rose."

"That's the girl I wouldn't know if I had to live in the slums," thought Rose to herself.

She turned her right shoulder towards Susan, and spoke with her face direct towards Miss Peacock.

"It's a wonderful, wonderful story," she began; "and maybe there's a spice of naughtiness in it—I don't say there aint. But there's something else in it too, and that's a deal of courage. And when it come home to the heart of Miss Christian to know that it was wrong, no one repented more sincere than she did. And here's the tale; and she wishes me to tell it her own dear self."

So Rosy began, and not knowing all the events that had taken place in the school, nor the circumstances that made that story so great a tragedy, she told it with a certain directness that made it extremely effective. She told it very simply, too, so that the youngest and smallest girl present could understand every word. As for the story itself, it was very thrilling, beginning with Christian's experience and the old attic in the Russell Square house, going on to the confab that the two girls had when they lay side by side in Christian's snug bed, and proceeding right up to the time when the two terrified children pushed the old bedstead against the door that could not be locked. That crucial and awful moment when Mrs. Carter tried to get in at the window, and Christian boldly kept her back, was described with such vivid realism by Rosy that one or two of the young listeners screamed. Rosy also gave with much effect a description of the scene when the children found themselves in the carpenter's yard. Their terror, their despair when Christian discovered that her little bag of money was gone, brought down the house, so to speak. Rosy herself did ample justice to the theme. She was quite dramatic in her actions. At times she could not keep still, but jumped to her feet and pointed out imaginary people with her fingers. Sometimes tears rolled down her own cheeks, and sighs and almost sobs broke the narrative. But when she spoke of the carpenter and his mother, the tea the old woman gave the tired and sad young girls, and the kindness of the carpenter when he walked with them all the way to Russell Square, Miss Peacock and her pupils were so much affected that they longed to start a subscription on the spot for the worthy pair.

At last the whole story was told, even to that part when Miss Thompson and nurse rejoiced and Christian was safe back again in the old home.

As Miss Peacock listened, she wondered much why she had never before thought of bringing Rose on the scene and making her tell the story.

"Thank you, Rose Latimer," she said when a dead silence followed all the excitement. "You have told your tale beautifully; and although it is a tale of wrong-doing, there are fine points in it, and those who truly repent will always be forgiven by God. Now, will you kindly go upstairs to Mrs. Peach? Don't disturb Christian if she is asleep; but if she is awake, say to her that we all send to her our dear love. Am I right in giving that message, girls? We all, knowing the worst, send our dear love to Christian Mitford."

"Certainly—we send our dearest love," answered two or three.

Even Maud Thompson had given a message. Susan alone was silent.

"She aint worthy to be even a slum girl," thought Rosy to herself.

"Yes, ma'am," she continued—and she dropped a most beautiful courtesy, one that even Mrs. Peach would have approved of—"I will take your message, ma'am. And I'm much obliged to all you young ladies. It has given me a great deal of pleasure to tell the story of my darling Miss Christian and myself." Then Rose trotted upstairs.

She entered Christian's room. Christian had little spots of color on each cheek, and her eyes were perhaps a trifle too bright.

"They all took to it most kindly, Miss Christian," said innocent Rose. "I told them everything from beginning to end, and I think I done it well; and Miss Peacock said I was to tell you that they all sent you their dearest love. But there's one girl down there that I can't abide anyhow. I don't think she sent any message, for I don't believe for a single moment she knows even the meaning of love. But the others did. They're precious fond of you, Miss Christian. I doubt if it was worth running away from a school of this sort."

"Oh, it was not, Rosy! Oh, Rosy, I am so relieved! They know it all—everything?"

"Every single crumb of it, Miss Christian, darling; and I did enjoy myself in the telling it."