And while they ate, and drank their hot milk, the good woman went on with her cooking operations. "I am having a fine joint to-day," she said: "corned beef that couldn't be beat in any county in England, and that's saying a good deal. It'll be on the table, with dumplings to match and a big apple-tart, sharp at one o'clock. I might ha' guessed that some o' them dear little missies were coming to dinner, for I don't always have a hot joint like this in the middle o' the week." The girls suddenly felt that of all things in the world they would like corned beef best; that dumplings would be a delicious accompaniment; and that apple-tart, eaten with Mrs. Miles's rich cream, would go well with such a dinner. They became almost cheerful. Matters were not quite so black, and they had a sort of feeling that Mrs. Miles would certainly help them to find the lost treasure. Having got her dinner into perfect order, and laid the table, and put everything right for the arrival of her good man, Mrs. Miles shut the kitchen door and drew her chair close to the children. "Now you are warm," she said, "and fed, you don't look half so miserable as you did when you came in. I expect the good food nourished you up a bit. And now, whatever's the matter? And where is that darling, Miss Betty? Bless her heart! but she twined herself round us all entirely, that she did." It would be wrong to say that Sylvia did not burst into fresh weeping at the sound of Betty's name. But Hester was of stronger mettle. "We have come to you," she said--"Oh, Sylvia, do stop crying! it does no manner of good to cry all the time--we have come to you, Mrs. Miles, to help us to save Betty." "Lawk-a-mercy! and whatever's wrong with the dear lamb?" "We are going to tell you everything," said Hester. "We have quite made up our minds. Betty is very, very ill." "Yes," said Sylvia, "she is so ill that Dr. Ashley came to see her twice yesterday, and then again a third time with a great, wonderful special doctor from London; and we were not allowed to sleep in her room last night, and she's--oh, she's dreadfully bad! "They whispered in the school," continued Sylvia in a low tone--"I heard them; they _did_ whisper it in the school--that perhaps Betty would--would _die_. Mrs. Miles, that can't be true! God doesn't take away young, young girls like our Betty. God couldn't be so cruel."