But if Betty lacked much and was full of grave and serious thoughts, there was one quality, admirable in itself, which she had to perfection, and that was her undoubted bravery. To make up her mind to do a certain thing was, with Betty Vivian, to do it. She had not quite made up her mind on Saturday; but on Sunday morning she had very nearly done so, and on Sunday evening she had quite done so. On Sunday evening, therefore, she knelt rather longer than the others, struggling and praying in the beautiful chapel; and when she raised her small white face, and met the eyes of the chaplain fixed on her, a thrill went through her. He, at least, would understand, and, if necessary, give her sympathy. But just at present she did not need sympathy, or rather she would not ask for it. She had great self-control, and she kept her emotions so absolutely to herself that no one guessed what she was suffering. Every day, every hour, she was becoming more and more the popular girl of the school; for Betty had nothing mean in her nature, and could love frankly and generously. She could listen to endless confidences without dreaming of betraying them, and the girls got to know that Betty Vivian invariably meant what she said. One person, however, she avoided, and that person was Fanny Crawford. Thursday passed in its accustomed way: school in the morning, with recess; school in the afternoon, followed by play, games of all sorts, and many another delightful pastime. Betty went for a walk with her two sisters; and presently, almost before they knew, they found themselves surveying their three little plots of ground in the gardens, which they had hitherto neglected. While they were so employed, Mrs. Haddo quite unexpectedly joined them. "Oh, my dear girls, why, you have done nothing here--nothing at all!" Sylvia said, "We are going to almost immediately, Mrs. Haddo." And Hetty said, "I quite love gardening. I was only waiting until Betty gave the word." "So you two little girls obey Betty in all things?" said Mrs. Haddo, glancing at the elder girl's face. "We only do it because we love to," was the response. "Well, my dears, I am surprised! Why, there isn't a sight of your Scotch heather! Has it died? What has happened to it?" "We made a burnt-offering of it," said Betty suddenly. "You did what?" said Mrs. Haddo in some astonishment. "You see," said Betty, "it was this way." She now looked full up at her mistress. "The Scotch heather could not live in exile. So we burnt it, and set all the fairies free. They are in Aberdeenshire now, and quite happy." "What a quaint idea!" said Mrs. Haddo. "You must tell me more about this by-and-by, Betty." Betty made no answer.