On any other occasion Sibyl would have joined this group, and been the first to giggle over Betty's witticisms. But the little parcel in her pocket seemed to weigh like lead. It was a weight on her spirits too. She was most anxious to deliver it over to Fanny Crawford, and to keep Fanny to her word, in order that she might be proposed as a Speciality at the next meeting. She knew this would not be until Thursday. Oh, it was all too long to wait! But she could put on airs already, for would she not very soon cease to be drinking this weak tea in the refectory? Would she not be having her own dainty meal in the Specialities' private room? "How red you are, Sibyl!" was Sarah Butt's remark. "I suppose the cold wind has caught your cheeks." "I wish you wouldn't remark on my appearance," said Sibyl. "Dear, dear! Hoity-toity! How grand we are getting all of a sudden!" "You needn't snub me in the way you do, Sarah. You'll be treating me very differently before long." "Indeed, your Royal Highness! And may I ask how and why?" "You may neither ask how nor why; but events will prove," said Sibyl. She raised her voice a little incautiously, and once again Betty looked at her. There was something about Betty's glance, at once sorrowful and aloof, which stung Sibyl. Just because she had done Betty a wrong she no longer loved her half as much as she had done. After a pause, she said in a distinct voice, "I am a very great friend of Fanny Crawford, and I am going to see her now on special business." With these words she marched out of the refectory. Some of the girls laughed. Betty was quite silent. No one dared question Betty Vivian with regard to her withdrawal from the Speciality Club, nor did she enlighten them. But when tea was over she went up to Sylvia and Hetty and said a few words to them both. They looked at her in amazement, but made no kind of protest. After speaking to her sisters, Betty left the refectory. "What can be the matter with your Betty?" asked one of the girls, addressing the twins. "There's nothing the matter with her," said Sylvia in a stout voice. "Why are your eyes so red, then?" "My eyes are red because Dickie's lost." "Who's Dickie?" "He is the largest spider I ever saw, and he grows bigger and fatter every day. But he is lost. We brought him from Scotland. He'd sting any one who tried to hurt him; so if any of you see him in your bedrooms or hiding under your pillows you'd best shriek out, for he is a dangerous sort, and ought not to be interfered with." "How perfectly appalling!" said the girl now addressed. "You really oughtn't to keep horrid pets of that sort. And I loathe spiders." "Oh, well, you're not Scotch," replied Sylvia with a disdainful gesture. "Dickie is a darling to those he loves, but very fierce to those he hates."