"This must have been what she saw," said Sibyl. "I asked her if it was wood, and I think she said it was. Only, why did she look so very queer?" The girls continued their walk, but Martha West stayed at home. She had hushed the remarks made by the younger girls that morning, nevertheless she could not get them out of her mind. Sibyl's story was circumstantial. She had described Betty's annoyance and distress when they met, Betty's almost confusion. She had then said that it was Betty who suggested that she was to wear the marguerites. Now Martha, in her heart of hearts, thought this suggestion of Betty's very far-fetched; and being a very shrewd, practical sort of girl, there came an awful moment when she almost made up her mind that Betty had done this in order to get rid of Sibyl. Why did she want to get rid of her? Martha began to believe that she was growing quite uncharitable. At that moment, who should appear in sight, who should utter a cry of satisfaction and seat herself cosily by Martha's side, but Fanny Crawford! "This is nice," said Fanny with a sigh. "I did so want to chat with you, Martha. I so seldom see you quite all by yourself." "I am always to be seen if you really wish to find me, Fanny," replied Martha. "I am never too busy not to be delighted to see my friends." "Well, of course we are friends, being Specialities," was Fanny's remark. "Yes," answered Martha, "and I think we were friends before. I always liked you just awfully, Fan." "Ditto, ditto," replied Fanny. "It is curious," she continued, speaking in a somewhat sententious voice, "how one is drawn irresistibly to one girl and repelled by another. Now, I was always drawn to you, Matty; I always liked you from the very, very first. I was more than delighted when I heard that you were to become one of us." Martha was silent. It was not her habit to praise herself, nor did she care to hear herself praised. She was essentially downright and honest. She did not think highly of herself, for she knew quite well that she had very few outward charms. Fanny, however, who was the essence of daintiness, looked at her now with blue-gray eyes full of affection. "Martha," she said, "I have such a lot to talk over! What did you think of last night?" "I thought it splendid," replied Martha. "And Betty--what did you think of Betty?" "Your cousin? She is very dramatic," said Martha. "Yes, that is it," replied Fanny; "she is dramatic in everything. I doubt if she is ever natural or her true self." "Fanny!" "Oh, dear old Martha, don't be so frightfully prim! I don't intend to break Rule No. I. Of course I love Betty. As a matter of fact, I have loved her before any of you set eyes on her. She is my very own cousin, and but for father's strong influence would never have been at this school at all. Still, I repeat that she is dramatic and hardly ever herself."