“I—I’m sorry,” said Billie at last, backing away toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come—but I thought—that is, I thought it was important.” She was half through the door by this time, and Miss Walters, her annoyance changing to amusement, took pity on her. “What was important?” she asked, adding, as Billie still continued to back away: “Come in here, Billie Bradley, and shut that door. There’s a draft in the hall.” Relieved at the use of the familiar name Billie, the girl obeyed, shutting the door softly, then turned imploringly to the teacher. “Sit down,” commanded the latter, pointing to one of the blue velour armchairs near by. “Now tell me the ‘important thing’ you came about while I finish my coffee.” Billie made poor work of her story at first, for she was still wondering how she had ever had the courage to approach Miss Walters in the privacy of her sanctum sanctorum, but as she went on she became less self-conscious and was encouraged by Miss Walters’ unfeigned interest. And when, at the end of the recital, Miss Walters reached over and patted her hand and told her she had been quite right in coming to her as she had, Billie was in the seventh heaven of delight. “With poverty behind them, fortune and comfort ahead, and then again, desolation!” Miss Walters mused, talking more to herself than Billie. “How the human mind can stand up under the strain is a mystery to me. Poor, starving little mites and pitiful, noble mother, fighting for her young with the only weapons she has. Lucky mother to have come to the notice of a girl like you, Billie Bradley,” she added, turning upon Billie so warm and bright a smile that the girl’s heart swelled with pride and adoration. “Then you will let us help the Haddons?” she asked breathlessly. “More than that,” smiled Miss Walters. “I will _help_ you to help them. I think it is too late to follow out your plan of taking them something to-night.” But she added as she saw Billie’s bright face fall: “But we will pack a basket full to the brim with good things early to-morrow morning and you and Laura and Violet may take them to the cottage after breakfast. Only, you must walk around the lake. I could not take the chance of your skating after what happened this afternoon.” Billie stammered out some incoherent words of thanks, Miss Walters patted her cheek, and in another moment she found herself standing outside in the hall in a sort of happy daze. A girl passed her, eyed her curiously, went on a few steps and then came back. It was Eliza Dilks. “In Miss Walters’ room at night,” said the sneering voice that Billie knew only too well. “No wonder you get away with everything—teacher’s pet.” Billie started to retort angrily, but knowing that silence was the very worst punishment one could inflict upon Eliza she merely shrugged her shoulders, turned up her straight little nose as far as it would go and walked off, leaving Eliza fuming helplessly.