The School Queens. Meade L. T.

here and there with sapphires. How pretty those bracelets would look on your dear little arms, Molly and Isabel; and how glad – how very, very glad – your Maggie will be to give them to you!”

      “And, of course, when you do give them to us we’ll be delighted to have them,” said Molly and Isabel.

      Then Isabel laughed and said, “But what is the good of counting your chickens before they’re hatched?”

      “I consider my chickens hatched,” was Maggie’s remark, “What fun we shall all have together next winter! Aneta won’t have much chance against us. Yes, girls, of course I like your friends Cicely and Merry; but they’ll be twice three times – the girls they are when they have been for a short time at Mrs. Ward’s school.”

      “Aren’t you tired, Maggie?” was Molly’s remark. “Wouldn’t you like to go to bed?”

      “I am not a scrap tired, and I don’t want to go to bed at all; but I suppose that means that you would?”

      “Well, I must own to feeling a little sleepy,” said Molly.

      “And so am I,” said Belle.

      “Girls, girls, come in; your father wants to lock up,” called Mrs. Tristram at that moment.

      The girls all entered the house, lit their candles, and went upstairs to their rooms.

      As Maggie was wishing her two dear friends good-night she said quietly, “I hope you won’t mind; but Merry Cardew – or, as I ought to call her, Miss Cardew – has asked me to go over to the Manor to-morrow morning in order to show me the old house. I said I’d be there at ten o’clock, and could then get back to you in time for lunch. I do trust you don’t mind.”

      “Of course we don’t,” said Molly in a hearty tone. “Now, good-night, Mags.”

      “But if you think, Maggie,” said Isabel, “that you will succeed in that scheme of yours you will find yourself vastly mistaken.”

      Maggie smiled gently, and the next moment she found herself alone. She went and stood by the open window. There was a glorious full moon in the sky, and the garden, with its deep shadows and brilliant avenues of light, looked lovely. But Maggie was not thinking of the scenery. Her thoughts were busy with those ideas which were always running riot in her busy little head. She was not unamiable; she was in reality a good-hearted girl, but she was very ambitious, and she sighed, above all things for power and popularity.

      When she came to visit Molly and Isabel she had not the faintest idea of inducing Cicely and Merry to join that select group who were taught by Mrs. Ward at Aylmer House. But when once the idea had entered her brain, she determined, with her accustomed quickness, to carry it into execution. She had never yet, in the whole course of her life, met with defeat. At the various schools where she had been taught she had always been popular and had won friends and never created an enemy-but at Aylmer House, extraordinary and delightful as the life was, there was one girl who excited her enmity – who, in short, roused the worst that was in her. That girl’s name was Aneta Lysle. No sophistries on the part of Maggie, no clever speeches, no well-timed and courteous acts, could win the approval of Aneta; and just because she was impossible to get at, because she carried her young head high, because she had that which Maggie could never have – a stately and wonderful beauty – Maggie was jealous of her, and was determined, if she could not win Aneta over to be her friend, to use her own considerable powers against the girl. She had not for a single moment, however, thought that she could be helped by Cicely and Merry in this direction, and had intended to get them to come to the school simply because they were aristocratic and rich, in the first instance. But when she saw Lady Lysle – Lady Lysle, who hated her mother and before whom her mother trembled and shrank; Lady Lysle, who was Aneta’s aunt – she knew that Cicely and Merry might be most valuable aids to her in carrying out her campaign against Aneta, and would help her to establish herself once and for all as the most powerful and important person in Mrs. Ward’s school.

      Power was everything to Maggie. By power she meant to rule her small school-world, and eventually by the aid of that same gift to take her position in the greater world that lies beyond school. In her heart of hearts she considered Cicely and Merry tiresome, silly, ignorant little girls; but they could be made to play into her hands. They must come to Aylmer House – oh yes! and already she felt certain she had put the thin end of the wedge beneath that opposition which she knew she must expect from Mr. Cardew. She would see him again on the morrow. Indeed, greater schemes than hers could be carried into effect within a fortnight.

      Maggie was the soul of common-sense, however, and had no idea of wearing herself out thinking when she ought to be asleep. She accordingly soon turned from the window, and, getting into bed, dropped at once into healthy slumber.

      When she awoke she felt remarkably light-hearted and cheerful. She got up early, and went with Andrew and Jack to see the adorable rabbits. So judicious was she on this occasion that both boys returned with her to breakfast in the highest good-humor.

      “Mother, mother,” cried Jackdaw, “she loves Fanciful because he’s so beautiful.”

      “And she adores Spot-ear because he’s so ugly,” said Peterkins.

      The boys were exceedingly happy at being allowed to sit at breakfast one on each side of Maggie, who, when she did not speak to them – for she wanted to ingratiate herself with every one present, and not with them alone – contrived to pat their hands from time to time, and so keep them in a subdued state of exceeding good-humor.

      Soon after breakfast she flew up to her room, put on that strangely becoming brown hat, which would have suited no other girl but herself, and went off to the Manor. She was met at the gate by Merry, who was anxiously waiting for her appearance.

      “I am so sorry that Cicely isn’t here too,” said Merry; “but mother wanted Cicely to drive into Warwick with her this morning. We’re going for a long motor-ride this afternoon. Don’t you love motors?”

      “I have never been in one in my life,” replied Maggie.

      “Oh dear!” said Merry; “then you shall come with us, although I know I can’t ask you to-day, but perhaps to-morrow we could manage.”

      “I must not be too much away from Molly and Isabel, for it would not be kind – would it, Miss Cardew?”

      “Do call me Merry. ‘Miss Cardew’ sounds so stiff, and you know I feel that I have known you all my life, for Molly and Isabel have always been talking about you. Mother was so pleased when she heard that you wanted to see the old house; and, do you know, Maggie–You don’t mind my saying Maggie?”

      “Of course not, Merry – dear Merry.”

      “Well – would you believe it? – father is going to show you the manuscript-room himself. I can tell you that is an honor.”

      “I am so delighted!” said Maggie. “Your father is a most charming man.”

      “Indeed, that he is,” said Merry; “but I never saw him get on so well with a young girl before.”

      “Oh,” said Maggie in her modest way, “it was just that I wanted to listen to him; what he said was so very interesting.”

      The girls were now walking up the avenue.

      “Please,” said Merry suddenly, “tell me more about your school – I mean that new, wonderful school you are at in London.”

      “Aylmer House?” said Maggie.

      “Yes, Aylmer House. Mother was talking about it this morning. She was quite interested in it.”

      “Your mother was talking about it?”

      “Yes. It seems Mr. Tristram had been praising it to her like anything last night.”

      “Well, he can’t say too much in its favor,” said Maggie. “Any girl who didn’t get good from it ought to be ashamed of herself.”

      “What is that you are saying, Miss Howland?” said the voice of Mr. Cardew at that moment.

      “Oh father! I never saw you,”