Early—very early—on the following morning, those girls who happened to be awake might have heard sounds of wheels on the gravel sweep without the house. They might have heard hurried steps going down the corridor; and had they chosen to rise from their beds and look out of the windows, they would have perceived a lady and a girl get into a cab. They would have seen some boxes being put on the roof, and the cab, with the lady and girl inside, leaving the place.

When school did resume its ordinary functions on that unhappy day Miss Forest read prayers; and when prayers were over she said quite simply:

"Miss Peacock will not attend school to-day; and Susan Marsh has left. Matters will be explained to you to-morrow."

So the day dragged on. Star's face was very white; her head ached. She had taken a bad cold in the tool-house.

As to Maud, she shrank into a corner.

"Of course, I shall be dismissed. I can't expect Miss Peacock to keep me any longer," was her thought.

Late that evening Miss Peacock returned; and on the next morning, when prayers were over, she asked the girls to remain.

"I have a few words to say," she remarked. "I have a very painful matter to explain to you all. Girls, one of your schoolfellows has, I grieve to say, been removed from the school. I am most unhappy about her, but in justice to you all I could not allow her to remain here any longer. Not only did she sin against the rules of rectitude and honor and honesty in this place; not only did she willfully disobey my wishes; but she did not repent. I do not think, girls, that there is any sin a schoolgirl could commit that I should not forgive if repentance followed. But this unhappy girl has not repented. I was obliged to take her back to her father, and a terrible and most bitter scene we had together. What he will do with Susan in the future I do not know; but as far as Penwerne Manor is concerned, she has left it forever."

A cry came from the lips of Mary Hillary.

"Her companions," continued Miss Peacock, looking full at Maud and also at Mary, "will understand that underhand ways are to be altogether abolished in the school; and because the Penwernian Society has led to evil and not good, I wish to announce here that there will no longer be such a society in the school. As to you, Maud Thompson, have you anything to say? If so, come forward. You at least, I know, have repented."

"Oh, I have! I am bitterly sorry. I know that you won't keep me. I can't expect it. I was led by Susan. I feared her; I was so weak. I loved Star all the time, but I didn't dare to go with her, for I dreaded Susan Marsh so much. I was deceitful; I did what Susan told me. I have nothing more to say, except that I am bitterly sorry. I suppose," added Maud, the tears streaming from her eyes, "that you will send me from the school."

"What is the wish of the majority?" asked Miss Peacock, glancing round at the other girls.

"Oh, Miss Peacock," said Louisa Twining, "if she is sorry——"

"Yes, Louisa?"

"If she is sorry," repeated Louisa, "and would consent for a little bit to be my friend—I mean, if she would sit in my boudoir, and I might get her to share some of the interests in my life—would you?"

Louisa's delicate face changed from white to pink, and then from pink to white again.

"Would I what, Louisa dear?"

"Would you give her a chance?"

"Louisa!" said Maud.

She ran up to her side. She fell on her knees, clasped Louisa's long, white hand, and kissed it with passion.

"Will you be responsible for her, Louisa?"

"Maud, look at me," said Louisa.

Maud did look up.

"I think I may safely say that I will."

"Then she shall be your child for the remainder of this term. You will teach her what things are right, what things are honorable, what things are of good repute. And now, girls, let us turn from an unpleasant subject. It is necessary sometimes to weed what is really bad out of life, out of school. I would have kept Susan Marsh had it been possible. As it was impossible, those who believe in prayer will, I hope, pray for her that God may show her the error of her ways. She has gone, and with her the misery, the discomfort, the prying, the unkindness, which such conduct as hers could not but promote. Christian Mitford is out of danger, and I hope that ere long she will be among you again. She has been far from good; but who is perfect? If she did wrong, Star, there were moments when you might have been more generous, kinder, less inclined to think well of yourself. Each of you girls who stand before me must own to weaknesses as well as to virtues. I think, my dear girls, that the virtues do preponderate; and I think in the future there will be no school in the whole of England that will be a happier one than Penwerne Manor."

Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.