"Me dear, don't ask me! I'll tell you no stories. I've done it a dozen times at home, and so have Bridgie and Esmeralda. It was a fine handicap we had one night, boys against girls, and Bridgie the winner, being so light on her feet. You wouldn't wish to forbid what my own family approves." She drew herself up with an air of dignity as she pronounced the last words, and skipped out of the room, as the quickest way of closing the argument; but when tea-time arrived she was still abeam with complacency, and pleasantly conscious of being the object of an unusual amount of attention. The girls all looked at her and smiled so kindly when they met her eye; jam and scones were pressed upon her from half a dozen different quarters; Mademoiselle called her "_cherie_," and even Miss Phipps said "dear." "Are you having a good tea, dear?" "Won't you have another cup of tea, dear?" It was all very pleasant and gratifying, and she felt convinced that the fame of her exploit had spread over the school, and that even the teachers had been unable to resist it. She was strutting out of the dining-room at the conclusion of the meal, when Miss Phipps laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "Come into my room, Pixie," and a moment later she stood within the boudoir, staring around with wide, astonished eyes. Mademoiselle had followed, and was twisting her hands together, trying vainly not to cry. Miss Phipps looked at her and made a little signal, but Mademoiselle only shook her head, and held out her hands with a helpless gesture, and then Miss Phipps began to speak herself, in such a gentle voice--a voice quite different from her usual brisk, decided accents. "Pixie dear, I have something to tell you. God has been very kind to the dear father whom you love so much. He saw that he could never be well again--never able to move about, nor walk, nor ride, as he had done before, and instead of leaving him to lie helpless upon his bed for long weary years, as so many poor sufferers have had to do, He took him home at once, and made him well and strong again. You must not think of your father as dead, Pixie. He is alive and happy in heaven!" But it was too early for the dead man's child to realise that beautiful truth, and Pixie burst into a passion of grief, and the girls without heard the long pitiful wails and nestled close to each other and sobbed in sympathy. Miss Phipps talked on and on, saying comforting words in that new sweet voice, and Mademoiselle put her arms fondly round the little figure and said-- "You will be brave, _cherie_. You are always brave! All the O'Shaughnessys are brave--your Bridgie told me so, and said it was the pride of the family! You will not be the first to act like a coward. No!" But the shock was too sudden to be borne with resignation.