"Perhaps he would think we were selfish to want to keep her to ourselves," said Bertha pensively. "I am glad that Mardie is going to be happy, but I can't imagine school without her. Who will welcome the new girls, and comfort them when they are homesick? Who will take us out on half-holidays, and read aloud in the evening? Who will nurse us when we are ill?" "Who will have her room when she is gone? I can't think how she can find it in her heart to leave that sweet little room!" cried Lois, in her turn. "But she must be anxious to go, I suppose, or she would not have promised to marry him." "I wouldn't like to live in a country where you met snakes when you went out for afternoon strolls; but I think Indian people are nice," declared Mildred. "That Mr Muir had such a nice, sunburnt face, and such kind, twinkling eyes! If Mardie's husband is like that, I'll forgive him for taking her away. But I'll work like a slave, so as to be able to leave school as soon as possible. `Mrs Lytton!' Gracious! We shall have to give her a present. I wish the wedding were not quite so soon, for I have only two and twopence in the world. Perhaps we could join together." "I think it would be a good thing if the whole school joined, and gave her something really handsome--a dressing-bag, for instance." "Oh, not a dressing-bag. She would use that on the voyage, and perhaps not again for two or three years. We ought to choose something that she would need every day. A clock would be nice," and Mildred jingled her watch-chain with an air of proud possession. "I think a ring would be better than either," said Lois; and the discussion went on with unabated energy for the next half-hour, when it was abandoned to allow the disputants to write letters of hearty, though somewhat lugubrious, congratulation, to the bride-elect. Mildred had no sooner finished her letter than she ran upstairs to spend half an hour with Lady Sarah in her bedroom. The compact of friendship which had been made a few days earlier had been kept all the more faithfully on the girl's part because the old lady had been suffering from the effect of shock and excitement, and had been confined to bed for several days. Mary the housemaid was deputed to act as maid in the place of the unhappy Cecile, but half a dozen times a day Mildred would go into the room to rearrange the pillows, and enliven the invalid with her bright, sunshiny presence. Lady Sarah always welcomed her with a smile, and never allowed her to depart without the earnest "Come back soon!" which sounded sweetly in the girl's ear. She was growing really fond of the old lady, and adopted little airs of authority in the sick-room which amused and fascinated the onlookers.