With a glad heart, and a bright song often upon her lips, she prepared for school next day, and Mrs. Beauchamp, catching snatches of the refrain every now and then, marvelled at the total change that had taken place in her grandchild. "It is simply wonderful," she murmured, "wonderful! She used to be _such_ an anxiety, and now she is just the reverse. I am glad for Conrad’s sake; he will find a treasure when he returns, if this condition of things lasts." And the old lady sighed a wee bit doubtfully; but then she had no experimental knowledge of the Saviour who is "able to keep from falling," as well as "able to save." The little governess cart was brought round from the stables punctually at nine o’clock the next morning, and Monica jumped into it, closely followed by Jack. "No, no, poor Jack, you can’t go with me to-day," she said, as she tried in vain to get him out of the trap; "I’m going to school, my doggie, and you can’t go there." Tom, the little stable-boy, who had been holding Cæsar’s head, and grinning with delight at Jack’s persistence, volunteered to carry him back and fasten him up in the yard. "Poor old fellow," said his mistress, as Richards gathered up the reins, and the pony trotted briskly down the drive, for Jack’s whines and short, yapping barks of disappointment could be heard for some distance. "Pony’s a bit fresh this morning, miss," remarked the old coachman, who had all his work cut out to hold him in, for the road to Osmington was a downhill one. "Steady there, steady," he said, as Cæsar tossed his dark-brown mane, resentful of some little flicks of the whip. "A nasty-tempered h’animal ’e is sometimes; look how he bit your ’and, miss." "Oh, that was all my own fault, Richards," replied Monica; "I deserved that." "Well, he didn’t ought to have snapped out at you like that," continued the old man. "Belle and Beauty wouldn’t have done such a thing, never," and he shook his grey head decisively, for "the pair" constituted the joy and pride of his heart, and he had never forgiven the introduction of the pony. "They are always so quiet and gentle," agreed Monica, and the old coachman, having subdued Cæsar into going at a steady trot, rambled on about the merits of "the pair" until the short drive was over. "I do _wonder_ if Lily Howell will turn up," thought Monica to herself, as she entered the school door, greeting one and another as she passed them on her way to the cloak-room. There she found Amethyst Drury, who informed her that several of the girls had been moved up, but the quartette was still intact. "And oh, Monica," she added, in an excited whisper, "Lily Howell must have come back! There is that pink and green hat of hers; no other girl would have one exactly like it, would she?" Monica, glancing at the pegs, and seeing what was unmistakably one of Lily’s well-known, gaudy hats, was not as astonished or disconcerted as Amethyst could have wished.