“Very well,” agreed Betty, “I will remember,” and in another moment was fast asleep.

Kitty lay down and drew the bedclothes cosily about her until a few dark curls and a scarlet bow were all that were visible, but go to sleep she could not.  Thoughts went racing through her brain in the most distracting manner—­thoughts of the school and all the unpleasant ending of her short connection with it; thoughts of Anna and her mother, and Anna’s want of courage.

“I believe she isn’t really a bad sort,” mused Kitty, “and yet—­and yet she does do such mean things, and doesn’t seem to see that they are mean; and she thinks that the only way to please people is to say nasty things of some one else to them; and then, of course, one feels that to other people she says the same of oneself.  One can’t help it.  I do wish she was different.  I believe I could like her if she was.”

Presently her thoughts merged into dreams, but such unpleasant ones that she was quite glad to awaken from them; and so, constantly dozing and half-waking, and dozing again, the hours wore on until at last she awoke really wide awake, with a very strong and alarming feeling that something was amiss, or that something unusual was happening.  She had not the faintest idea what it could be, and though she sat up in bed and listened, she could not see or hear anything.  The house seemed quiet and still, and yet there were sounds—­curious, mysterious sounds that ceased while she listened for them, and left her wondering if she were still dreaming, or if her ears were playing her tricks.  Her first fear was that there might be something the matter with Tony; then she thought of Dan.

“I must go and see,” she thought, and slipped very gently out of bed and into her dressing-gown.  When she was outside the door she paused to listen.  Yes, there certainly were sounds, and they came from Dan’s room, sounds of whispering and movements, and—­yes, there was a curious smell.  “I believe it is fire!” she gasped, and ran down the corridor.  Dan’s room was nearly at the end of it, and faced the staircase.  Tony’s was a tiny room between the girls’ and Dan’s, while Anna’s room was beyond Dan’s again.  Kitty looked in at Tony, and found him safe, and sleeping comfortably; then she hurried on.  Dan’s door was slightly ajar, and there was a dim light within; here also was the curious smell which had greeted Kitty’s nose, only stronger, and here also was Anna, in her gray dressing-gown, sitting on the floor, and apparently hugging herself in an agony of pain.  “What has happened?  What is the matter?  Dan, tell me!”

At the first sound of her voice Dan wheeled round, and Anna started up with a scream.

“How you did startle me!” cried Dan in a hoarse whisper.  “But I’m awfully glad you’ve come.”  Dan’s face was perfectly white, and he was trembling visibly.  “Kitty, what can I do?  I have been such a—­such a fool; worse than a fool.  Look!” holding up a paper partly burnt, and pointing to a scorched mark on the curtain.