"Praise be!" said Blue Bonnet. "Now you can see what Sandy sent for a farewell message." She held out the envelope. "Open it please," said Kitty. "That boy is always up to mischief and I can't take any more risks. I cut one of his dances the other evening and he vowed vengeance." Blue Bonnet obeyed while the other girls looked on with unconcealed interest. The envelope appeared to be empty, but when it was vigorously shaken upside down, something fell on to the counterpane. They all dove for it, but it was Debby who finally caught and held it up. It was a tiny square of note-paper, in the centre of which a knot of ribbon secured something bright and shining. It was a lock of Sandy's silky red hair. Under it was written: "A coal of fire. I forgive you." Kitty laughed for the first time since her affliction had come upon her; and the girls blessed Sandy for his nonsense. "May I borrow my granddaughter for a few minutes?" asked the Senora, looking in at the door. "Blue Bonnet, I've a letter here from your Aunt Lucinda." An odd look came into Blue Bonnet's face,--Grandmother's voice held a hint of something important. She handed Sandy's memento to Kitty and forced a smile. "Put this in your memory-book, Kitty. When Sandy is president, you can point with pride to that coal of fire--they're likely, by then, to call it 'the fire of genius!'" When she had left the room, Kitty looked out of her one good eye with a glance intended to be solemn. "Girls, I've a presentiment." "What about,--Sandy?" asked Sarah. "No, you silly,--except that he'll never be president! I'm thinking about Blue Bonnet,--I was just going to tell you when she came in. I don't believe she intends to go back with us." Kitty's words produced even more of an effect than she had expected. For several minutes no one spoke, then Ruth said half irritably: "If you can't have pleasanter presentiments than that, Kitty, I wish you wouldn't have them." "I can't help it," Kitty declared. "She won't say a word about it. And every time we get on to the subject, she either begins to talk about something else, or leaves the room." "I've noticed it, too," said Sarah, quietly. The gloom on every countenance bore silent witness to the hold Blue Bonnet had on the affections of the We are Sevens. "Woodford will be a stupid old hole without her," Kitty declared. "Passing over your implied compliment to us," said Debby, "I agree with you." Grandmother handed Blue Bonnet Aunt Lucinda's letter without comment; but watched the girl's face closely as she read. A characteristic letter it was, showing the fine mind and cultivation of the writer, yet like her, too, precise and rather formal in its wording. She was in Munich, enjoying the summer music festival. Nothing very important so far, Blue Bonnet concluded, and began to breathe more easily. But over the closing pages she sobered again.