"I can't understand it a bit," said Margaret. Then she added after a pause, "I suppose, girls, you fully recognize that the Speciality Club is supposed to be a club without prejudice or favor, and that, as the 'ayes' have carried the day, Miss Betty Vivian is to be invited to join?" "Of course she must be invited to join," replied Susie; "but it is very unpleasant all the same. I cannot make out what can ail Fanny Crawford. She hasn't been a bit herself since those girls arrived." The Specialities chatted a little longer together, but the meeting was not convivial. Fanny's absence prevented its being so; and very soon the girls broke up, leaving the pretty cups and saucers and the remains of the feast behind them. The chapel bell rang for prayers, and they all trooped in. But Fanny Crawford was not present. This, in itself, was almost without precedent, for girls were not allowed to miss prayers without leave. As each Speciality laid her head on her pillow that night she could not but reflect on Fanny's strange behavior, and wondered much what it meant. As to Fanny herself, she lay awake for hours. Some of the girls and some of the mistresses thought that she was grieving for her father; but, as a matter of fact, she was not even thinking of him. Every thought of her mind was concentrated on what she called her present dilemma. It was almost morning before the tired girl fell asleep. At half-past six on the following day the great gong sounded through the entire upper school. Betty started up in some amazement, her sisters in some alarm. By-and-by a kind-looking woman, dressed as a sort of housekeeper or upper servant, entered the room. "Can I help you to dress, young ladies?" she said. The girls replied in the negative. They had always dressed themselves. "Very well," replied the woman. "Then I will come to fetch you in half-an-hour's time, so that you will be ready for prayers in chapel." Perhaps Betty Vivian never, as long as she lived, forgot that first day when she stood with her sisters in the beautiful little chapel and heard the Reverend Edmund Fairfax read prayers. He was a delicate, refined-looking man, with a very intellectual face and a beautiful voice. Mrs. Haddo had begged of him to accept the post of private chaplain to her great school for many reasons. First, because his health was delicate; second, because she knew she could pay him well; and also, for the greatest reason of all, because she was quite sure that Mr. Fairfax could help her girls in moments of difficulty in their spiritual life, should such moments arise.