There was to be a great meeting of the Specialities on the following evening. They usually met in each other's bedrooms, taking the task of offering hospitality turn and turn about. At these little social gatherings they had cocoa, tempting cakes, and chocolate creams; here they laughed and chatted, sometimes having merely a merry evening, at others discussing gravely the larger issues of life. Fanny was the one who was to entertain the Specialities on the following evening, and she made preparations accordingly. Sir John had brought her a particularly tempting cake from Buzzard's, a couple of pounds of the best chocolate creams, a tin of delicious cocoa, and, last but not least, a beautiful little set of charming cups and saucers and tiny plates, and real silver spoons, also little silver knives. Notwithstanding her grief at parting from her father, Fanny was delighted with her present. Hitherto there had been no attempt at style in these brief meetings of the friends. But Fanny's next entertainment was to be done properly. There was no secret about these gatherings. Miss Symes had been told that these special girls wanted to meet once a week between nine and ten o'clock in their respective bedrooms. She had carried the information to Mrs. Haddo, who had immediately given the desired permission, telling the girls that they might hold their meeting until the great bell rang for chapel. Prayers were always read at a quarter to ten in the beautiful chapel belonging to Haddo Court, but only the girls of the upper school attended in the evening. Fanny would have been in the highest spirits to-night were it not for the Vivians, were it not for the consciousness that she was in possession of a secret--a really terrible secret--which she must not tell to her companions. Yes, she must break her rule; she must not tell. She lay down on her bed at last and fell asleep, feeling tired and very miserable. She was horrified at Betty's conduct with regard to the little packet, and could not feel a particle of sympathy for the other girls in the matter. It was soon after midnight on that same eventful night. The great clock over the stables had struck twelve, and sweet chimes had come from the other clock in the little tower of the chapel. The whole house was wrapped in profound slumber. Even Mrs. Haddo had put away all cares, and had laid her head on her pillow; even the Rev. Edmund Fairfax and his wife had put out the lights in their special wing of the Court, and had gone to sleep. It was shortly after the clocks had done their midnight work that Betty Vivian raised herself very slowly and cautiously on her elbow, and touched Sylvia on her low, white forehead. The little girl started, opened her eyes, and was about to utter an exclamation when Betty whispered, "Don't make a sound, silly Sylvia! It's only me--Betty. I want you to get very wide awake. And now you are wide awake, aren't you?"