She looked again—a straight, steady look. Nothing was to be seen, and she smiled at her own fancy. "What a goose I am!" she said to herself, as she found and touched the spring which opened the secret cupboard. The door flew open, and there lay the pieces as she had left them, eight in number. She felt all round the cupboard, but there was nothing more. Further search, however, developed a corresponding recess on the other side, containing another gold piece, a lady's old-fashioned gold watch, with a heavy chain and seals, and two or three ornaments set with amethyst and pearls—pretty, but of no great value. Calista collected all in her handkerchief, and, assuring herself by a hasty search that there was nothing more, she closed the desk and took up her candle. At that moment she heard a slight rustle, and looking up she saw, or fancied she saw, the same eye at the hole in the shutters watching her movements. She walked straight toward the window, holding up the candle, but there was nothing to be seen. "It must have been a reflection in the glass, or perhaps a cat looking in," she said to herself. "One might found a good story on it." Miss Priscilla was sitting in an attitude of expectation, and started nervously as Calista entered. She gave a childish cry of delight as Calista laid the handkerchief open before her. "You are a good girl, Calista—a very good girl!" said she, in a fluttered manner. "Let me see—two, four, five; yes, eight guineas—and that is your grandmother's watch. You shall have it when—when you are old enough to wear it properly. School-girls don't wear watches, you know." "But you might let me keep it, aunt," said Calista, mischievously. "It would be very convenient to have in my room." "No, no! You would lose it; or some one might steal it. You shall have it when—when you are old enough. And, mind you, don't tell any of the school-girls about these things." "Then I am to go to school again!" said Calista. "Why, yes—yes. You can go to the end of this term, and then we will see about it. Call Chloe; I want to go to bed. And don't you think you had better let me have that sixpence to take care of for you?" CHAPTER TENTH. MISS DRUETT. CERTAINLY Miss Priscilla was disturbed "by ordinary," as Miss Jessy would have said, or she would never have gone up to bed leaving Calista below. Usually she was driven off to her room with about as much ceremony as a cow dismissed to her night's lodging. While she was setting back her chair, and wondering whether she ought to go round and see to the fastenings of doors and windows—a ceremony usually performed by Miss Druett with great care and minuteness—Miss Druett herself entered the room. She looked pale and tired, and Calista thought she had been crying, but her eyes were as bright and her lips as firm and resolute as ever. "So you are here alone!" said she. "I heard Priscilla in her room, and I thought I would come down and see to the fastenings."