Her mother’s hand knocking on the wall brought her down from the clouds.

“Go to bed, dear,” called out her parent.  “It is very late, and you are disturbing me.”

“Yes, mother,” called back Susy.

She removed the blouse, folded it in tissue-paper, put it into her drawer, blew out the candles, and got into bed.  But all through the remainder of the night Susy dreamt of her blouse.  The blouse filled her thoughts, otherwise she might have been in raptures over her pretty silver locket and its green ribbon.  But as this was for private wear, and must on no account be shown to any one who was not a member of the society, it did not give her the amount of rapture it would otherwise have done.

“It is lovely too.  It is a badge, and means a great deal,” she said to herself, and she closed her hand over it as she lay in bed.  “It is tiresome that I cannot show it.  It is a sweet little locket, and I might save up money enough to have it gilded over.  People would think I had a gold locket.  I have always nearly died to have one; but of course I couldn’t do that, for it would displease our queen, the darling, and I wouldn’t for all I am worth do anything to annoy her.  Oh dear, things are turning out lovely!  I am twice as happy a girl as I was before Kathleen O’Hara came to the school.”

At school next day the members of the new society looked a little conscious.  Their eyes often met, and those eyes spoke volumes.  Sometimes a girl would put her hand up to her neck in a somewhat significant way, and another girl would respond with a similar signal.  There was a sort of suppressed excitement in the school; but the teachers remarked nothing.  On the contrary, they were pleased with the way lessons were done, exercises gone through, and work accomplished.  The girls were so completely in league with each other, so full of delight over the new amusement which Kathleen had started in their midst, that they had no time to be supercilious or disagreeable to the paying girls, who were left in peace.  They were usually a good deal tormented by the foundationers, who took their revenge by small spiteful ways—­by taking the ink when they did not want it, by removing good pens and putting bad ones in their places, by spilling ink on the blotting paper.  In short, they had many ways of rendering the life of a paying girl anything but happy.  To-day, however, all was peace and quiet.  Kathleen walked in her radiant fashion through her lessons; her beautiful face could not but be an attraction.  She was very bright and very smart, and even Alice gave her an approving glance.

“Mother is right,” she thought.  “She is a little better than she was.  If only she would take a real interest in her work I should have hopes of her.”