"Thank you, Fanny," replied Betty. She stood aside and motioned to Fanny to pass her. Fanny felt, for some unaccountable reason, strangely uncomfortable. The cloud which had been hanging over Betty seemed to visit Fanny's heart also. For the first time since her cousin's arrival she almost pitied her. Olive's room was very bright. She had a good deal of individual taste, and as the gardeners were always allowed to supply the Specialities with flowers for their weekly meetings and their special entertainments, Olive had her room quite gaily decorated. Smilax hung in graceful festoons from several vases and trailed in a cunning pattern round the little supper-table; cyclamen, in pots, further added to the decorations; and there were still some very beautiful white chrysanthemums left in the green-house, a careful selection of which had been made by Birchall that day for the young ladies' festivities. And now all the girls were present, and supper began. Hitherto, during the few meetings of the Specialities that had taken place since she became a member, Betty's voice had sounded brisk and lively; Betty's merry, sweet laugh had floated like music in the air; and Betty's charming face had won all hearts, except that of her cousin. But to-night she was quite grave. She sat a little apart from the others, hardly eating or speaking. Suddenly she got up, took a book from a shelf, and began to read. This action on her part caused the other girls to gaze at her in astonishment. Margaret said, "Is anything the matter, Betty? You neither eat nor speak. You are not at all like our dear, lively Speciality to-night." "I don't want to eat, and I have nothing to say just yet," answered Betty. "Please don't let me spoil sport. I saw this book of yours, Olive, and I wanted to find a certain verse in it. Ah, here it is!" "What is the verse?" asked Olive. "Please read it aloud, Betty." Betty obeyed at once. "Does the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend." There was a dead silence after Betty had read these few words of Christina Rossetti. The girls glanced from one to another. For a minute or so, at least, they could not be frivolous. Then Olive made a pert remark; another girl laughed; and the cloud, small at present as a man's hand, seemed to vanish. Betty replaced her book on Olive's book-shelf, and sat quite still and quiet. She knew she was a wet blanket--not the life and soul of the meeting, as was generally the case. She knew well that Margaret Grant was watching her with anxiety, that Martha West and also Fanny Crawford were puzzled at her conduct. As to the rest of the Specialities, it seemed to Betty that they did not go as far down into the root of things as did Margaret and Martha.