When tea was over several of the girls drifted into the garden, where they walked in twos, discussing their holidays, their old friends, and the time which was just coming. There was not a trace of unhappiness in any face. The whole atmosphere of the place seemed to breathe peace and goodwill. Aneta and Cicely, with some of Aneta's own friends, two girls of the name of Armitage--Anne and Jessie--and a very graceful girl called Sylvia St. John, walked up and down talking quietly together for some little time. Then Cicely looked eagerly round her. "I can't see Merry anywhere," she remarked. "She is all right, dear, I am sure," said Aneta. But Aneta in her inmost heart did not think so. She was, however, far too prudent to say a word to make her cousin Cicely uneasy. Meanwhile Maggie and Merry had found a cosy corner for themselves in one of the conservatories. They sat side by side in two little garden-chairs. "Well, you've come!" said Maggie. "I have carried out my design. My heart's desire is satisfied." "Oh, how sweet you are, Maggie!" said Merry. "I have missed you so much!" she added. "I have so often wished for you!" "Do you really love me?" asked Maggie, looking at Merry in her queer, abrupt manner. "You know I do," said Merry. "Well," said Maggie, "there are a great many girls in the school who love me very dearly." "It is easy to perceive that," said Merry. "Why, Maggie, at tea-time that handsome little Irish girl--Kathleen you call her--couldn't take her eyes off you." "Oh, Kitty," said Maggie. "Yes, she is on my side." "What do you mean by your side?" "Well, of course I have told you--haven't I?--that there are two of us in this school who are more looked up to than the others. It seems very conceited for me to say that I happen to be one. Of course I am not a patch on Aneta; I know that perfectly well." "Aneta is a darling," said Merry; "and she is my own cousin; but"--she dropped her voice--"Maggie, somehow, I can't help loving you best." "Oh," said Maggie with a start, "is that true?" "It is! it is!" Maggie was silent for a minute. At the end of that time she said very gently, "You won't be hurt at something I want to tell you?" "Hurt! No," said Merry; "why should I be?" "Well, it is just this: Aneta is frightfully jealous of me." "Oh! I don't believe it," said Merry indignantly. "It isn't in her nature to be jealous. It's very low-minded to be jealous." "There is no school," said Maggie, "where jealousy does not abound. There is no life into which jealousy does not enter. The world itself is made up of jealous people. Aneta is jealous of me, and I--I am jealous of her." "Oh, Maggie dear, you must not, and you ought not to be jealous of Aneta! She thinks so kindly, so sweetly of every one." "She loves you," said Maggie. "You just go and tell her how much you care for me, that you love me better than you love her, and see how she will take it."