"And when you think of me?" repeated Sibyl, her face beaming all over with delight. "You think of me, do you, darling Betty, as wearing green, with a wreath of marguerites in my hair?" "Yes, that is how I think of you," said Betty. "Very well, I'll go and find the gardener. Mrs. Haddo always allows us to have cut flowers that the gardener gives us." "Don't have the wreath too big," said Betty; "and be sure you get the gardener to choose small marguerites. Now, be off--won't you?--for I want to continue my walk." Sibyl, in wild delight, rushed into one of the flower-gardens. Betty watched her till she was quite out of sight. Then, quick as thought, she retraced her steps. She must find another hiding-place for the packet. With Sibyl's knowledge, her present position was one of absolute danger. Sibyl would tell every girl she knew all about Betty's action when she stood by the broken stump of the old tree. She would describe how Betty thrust in her hand and took something out, looked at it, and put it back again. The girls would go in a body, and poke, and examine, and try to discover for themselves what Betty had taken out of the trunk of the old oak-tree. Betty must remove the sealed packet at once, or it would be discovered. "What a horrible danger!" thought the girl. "But I am equal to it." She ran with all her might and main, and presently, reaching the tree, thrust her hand in, found the brown packet carefully tied up and sealed, and slipped it into her pocket. Quite close by was a little broken square of wood. Betty, hating herself for doing so, dropped it into the hollow of the tree. The bit of wood would satisfy the girls, for Sibyl had said that Betty had doubtless found some wood. Having done this, she set off to retrace her steps again, going now in the direction of the deserted gardens and the patch of common. She had no spade with her, but that did not matter. She went to the corner where the heather was growing. Very carefully working round a piece with her fingers, she loosened the roots; they had gone deep down, as is the fashion with heather. She slipped the packet underneath, replaced the heather, kissed it, said, "I am sorry to disturb you, darling, but you are doing a great work now;" and then, wiping the mud from her fingers, she walked slowly home. The packet would certainly be safe for a day or two under the Scotch heather, which, as a matter of fact, no one thought of interfering with from one end of the year to another. Before Betty left this corner of the common she took great care to remove all trace of having disturbed the heather. Then she walked back to the Court, her heart beating high. The tension within her was so great as to be almost unendurable. But she would not swerve from the path she had chosen.