Mrs. Willis owned to herself that she was non-plussed; it was quite impossible to allow Annie to neglect her studies, and yet little Nan’s health was still too precarious to allow her to run the risk of having the child constantly fretted.

Suddenly a welcome idea occurred to her; she would write at once to Nan’s old nurse, and see if she could come to Lavender House for the remainder of the present term.  Mrs. Willis dispatched her letter that very day, and by the following evening the nurse was once more in possession of her much-loved little charge.  The habits of her babyhood were too strong for Nan; she returned to them gladly enough, and though in her heart of hearts she was still intensely loyal to Annie, she no longer fretted when she was not with her.

Annie resumed her ordinary work, and though Hester was very cold to her, several of the other girls in the school frankly confided to their favorite how much they had missed her, and how glad they were to have her back with them once more.

Annie found herself at this time in an ever-shifting mood ­one moment she longed intensely for a kiss, and a fervent pardon from Mrs. Willis’ lips; another, she said to herself defiantly she could and would live without it; one moment the hungry and sorrowful look in Hester’s eyes went straight to Annie’s heart, and she wished she might restore her little treasure whom she had stolen; the next she rejoiced in her strange power over Nan, and resolved to keep all the love she could get.

In short, Annie was in that condition when she could be easily influenced for good or evil ­she was in that state of weakness when temptation is least easily resisted.

A few days after the arrival of Nan’s nurse Mrs. Willis was obliged unexpectedly to leave home; a near relative was dangerously ill in London, and the school-mistress went away in much trouble and anxiety.  Some of her favorite pupils flocked to the front entrance to see their beloved mistress off.  Among the group Cecil stood, and several girls of the first class; many of the little girls were also present, but Annie was not among them.  Just at the last moment she rushed up breathlessly; she was tying some starry jasmine and some blue forget-me-nots together, and as the carriage was moving off she flung the charming bouquet into her mistress’ lap.

Mrs. Willis rewarded her with one of her old looks of confidence and love; she raised the flowers to her lips and kissed them, and her eyes smiled on Annie.

“Good-by, dear,” she called out; “good-by, all my dear girls; I will try and be back to-morrow night.  Remember, my children, during my absence I trust you.”

The carriage disappeared down the avenue, and the group of girls melted away.  Cecil looked round for Annie, but Annie had been the first to disappear.

When her mistress had kissed the flowers and smiled at her, Annie darted into the shrubbery and stood there wiping the fast-falling tears from her eyes.  She was interrupted in this occupation by the sudden cries of two glad and eager voices, and instantly her hands were taken, and some girls rather younger than herself began to drag her in the opposite direction through the shrubbery.

“Come; Annie ­come at once, Annie, darling,” exclaimed Phyllis and Nora Raymond.  “The basket has come; it’s under the thick laurel-tree in the back avenue.  We are all waiting for you; we none of us will open it till you arrive.”

Annie’s face, a truly April one, changed as if by magic.  The tears dried on her cheeks; her eyes filled with sunlight; she was all eager for the coming fun.

“Then we won’t lose a moment, Phyllis,” she said:  “we’ll see what that duck of a Betty has done for us.”

The three girls scampered down the back avenue, where they found five of their companions, among them Susan Drummond, standing in different attitudes of expectation near a very large and low-growing laurel-tree.  Every one raised a shout when Annie appeared; she was undoubtedly recognized as queen and leader of the proceedings.  She took her post without an instant’s hesitation, and began ordering her willing subjects about.

“Now, is the coast clear? yes, I think so.  Come, Susie, greedy as you are, you must take your part.  You alone of all of us can cackle with the exact imitation of an old hen:  get behind that tree at once and watch the yard.  Don’t forget to cackle for your life if you even see the shadow of a footfall.  Nora, my pretty birdie, you must be the thrush for the nonce; here, take your post, watch the lawn and the front avenue.  Now then, girls, the rest of us can see what spoils Betty has provided for us.”

The basket was dragged from its hiding-place, and longing faces peered eagerly and greedily into its contents.

“Oh, oh!  I say, cherries! and what a lot!  Good Betty! dear, darling Betty! you gathered those from your own trees, and they are as ripe as your apple-blossom cheeks!  Now then, what next?  I do declare, meringues!  Betty knew my weakness.  Twelve meringues ­that is one and a half apiece; Susan Drummond sha’n’t have more than her share.  Meringues and cheesecakes and ­tartlets ­oh! oh! what a duck Betty is!  A plum-cake ­good, excellent Betty, she deserves to be canonized!  What have we here?  Roast chickens ­better and better!  What is in this parcel?  Slices of ham; Betty knew she dare not show her face again if she forgot the ham.  Knives and forks, spoons ­fresh rolls ­salt and pepper, and a dozen bottles of ginger-beer, and a little corkscrew in case we want it.”

These various exclamations came from many lips.  The contents of the basket were carefully and tenderly replaced, the lid was fastened down, and it was once more consigned to its hiding place under the thick boughs of the laurel.

Not a moment too soon, for just at this instant Susan cackled fiercely, and the little group withdrew, Annie first whispering: 

“At twelve to-night, then, girls ­oh, yes, I have managed the key.”