"There," said Mr Manchuri, "Esther has judged just as God does, I take it; and the thing is forgiven as only God forgives; but what you have to do, Priscilla Weir, is this. You have to put yourself right with your schoolmistress, and in doing so you cannot, in any justice, shield your schoolfellows. I am no fool, dear girl, and I know their names well enough. One of them is that Miss Lushington whom I met at the Hotel Belle Vue, and the other--the girl who arranged the plot and carried it through with such cleverness--is no less an individual than my little _quondam_ friend, Annie Brooke. You see, my dear, there is no genius in my making this discovery, for I have heard them both talk of Mrs Lyttelton's school, and Miss Brooke often entertained me in the most charming way by giving me a minute description of Miss Lushington's talents and how she won the great literature prize. Little, little did I then guess that I should be so much interested in you, my dear. We will leave Esther now. Come downstairs with me again." CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. CONTRARY INFLUENCES. Annie's high spirits continued with her during all the somewhat hot journey from Interlaken to Zermatt. She was, in truth, the life of the party, and kept every one in the best possible humour. Her charm was undoubted, and her apparent unselfishness made her invaluable. Even Parker acknowledged that there never was such an obliging young lady, or such a thoughtful one, as Miss Annie Brooke. Mabel could groan at the heat. Lady Lushington grumble and complain, even Parker herself could give way to insupportable headache, but nothing, nothing daunted the unflagging good-humour of Annie Brooke. Had she not the eau-de-Cologne handy for poor Parker's head? Could she not chat cheerfully to Lady Lushington and make her laugh, and could she not insist on Mabel's having the seat where she was at once protected from too much draught and yet not exposed to the full glare of the August sun? When they reached the hotel, too, it was Annie who chose, without a moment's hesitation, the one uncomfortable room of the little suite which was set apart for Lady Lushington's party. "Nothing matters for me," said Annie. "I have got unflagging health, and I am so happy," she said. "Every one is so kind to me." "You really are a dear little thing," said Lady Lushington when Annie herself entered that lady's room bearing a cup of tea which she had made from Lady Lushington's own private store, and which smelt so fragrant and looked so good. "Oh, my dear Annie," continued the good lady--"I really must call you by your Christian name--I never did find any one quite so pleasant before. Now if Mabel had not been such a goose as to get that literature prize, which I verily believe has swamped every scrap of brain the poor girl ever possessed, I could have had you as my little companion for a year. How we should have enjoyed ourselves!"