the long sea-voyage that would soon separate her from her nurse, as it had separated her from everybody else whom she loved; and when she told herself that not one person she knew was anywhere near her, the unhappy little Hilda wept for a long, long time that night.

There were strict orders not to speak in the dormitories, therefore no one had said one word to Hilda when she came to bed; but nearly an hour after most of the children were fast asleep, she felt a kiss upon her little burning cheek, and heard a little voice close beside her whisper, 'Don't cry, Hilda ; I'll be your friend if you like, and we'll have all sorts of games together.'

It was an English child, who spoke in English. This in itself brought Hilda some comfort, for she had grown tired to-day of hearing so much French, one quarter of which she could not understand at all. French, French, French, all day long,' she said to herself, as she lay in bed enumerating her troubles; and no one spoke French in Grenada, and Cleopatra would not know anything about that language!' She had not yet once opened her little box since she came to school. The little girl who now spoke to Hilda was not the one who had walked to church with her yesterday—that was Amy Dawson ; not the one who slept in the bed next to her, her name was Janet Percival; but little Mary Scott, a kind-hearted, affectionate little child, who slept four beds away from Hilda, but could not sleep at all to-night because of her crying.

She was a shy little thing, and as long as the other girls had been about could not summon up courage to speak to the 'new little girl;' but now when everybody else slept, and she could hear that Hilda sorely needed comfort, she stole

out of bed to carry it to her; and only Hilda knew what real comfort those few kind words brought to her, what a sense of security the sympathy expressed in the little voice conveyed, what a lonely void in a very sorrowful little heart was filled up, as, returning the kiss of the little girl, who now crept back quietly to her bed for fear of disturbing the others, she turned her weary little head over on her pillow, and in less than two minutes was fast asleep.

Mary or Dolly Scott, as this little girl was often called at school as well as at home (this having always been her pet name, and a little friend coming to school at the same time with her, and calling her by it, thus introducing it amongst the girls), was eight years old, one year younger than Hilda, but still younger looking, as she was short for her age.

ILDA, to use her father's own words, had already begun to find her level. She was no longer the one to be singled out, petted, waited upon, and spoilt; but amongst one hundred and fifty girls she took her place, and that place often a lowly one. Many of the French girls made fun of her shyness, and were anything but well or kindly behaved towards the little foreigner, and Hilda, consequently, did not like

them in return.

The difference of character between the hundred and fifty girls here at school together was very great. Some acted on principle, whilst others seemed to have no principle on which to act; some were passionate, some ill-natured and horribly contradictory, some spiteful, some sly; many, especially the French girls,-but of course there were so many more of these than of the English,-very untruthful; some wrapped up in self, constantly talking about themselves, and saying unkind, cutting things to wound the feelings of others; some again were greedy, which is a very ugly fault.

F

But

then others were good-natured, good-tempered, kind-hearted, truthful, and unselfish girls; and amongst the good in general may perhaps especially rank Clochette d'Aubignier, a French girl of eleven years old, and little Dolly Scott.

Hilda's awakening on the first few mornings after she came to school was very sad. She was so much accustomed to see Nana's face and hear her voice directly she awoke, that she naturally missed both very much when she could no longer see nor hear them; and then there was the strange getting up in a strange new home and country, and the strange going down to a strange new round of duties.

The first thing that Hilda did on Tuesday morning was to look for her newly-found friend of the night before, whom she recognised by a kind little smile that greeted her.

When recreation-time came after dinner, these two little girls met, played together, and thus cemented their friendship; and whilst they were playing, Hilda told Mary Scott that she had a doll in her box in the dormitory that she had wanted to look at ever since she had come to school, but had been afraid, and that she would like very much now to show the doll to her. This was the first secret that Hilda had told at school; and when she described the doll, and the number of clothes which its trunk contained, and the necklace and the ear-rings, little Mary longed to see it, but she said that they must get special permission to play with. the doll on any day but Thursday and Saturday.

They asked this special leave, and Hilda being a new child, whose parents were so far away from her, the leave was granted, and very happily the little girl set off to fetch the doll.

Hilda was very glad to hold her in her arms once more;

and her little friend was quite lost in astonishment when she saw Cleopatra. She thought she had never seen so funny looking a doll before.

'Isn't she pretty?' asked Hilda.

The other could not answer 'yes' to this question, but said that she would like to nurse her very much, if she might.

Hilda allowed her to do so, also to take off her turban, and see how it was put on.

The two children had run to a pretty, little, sheltered spot in the garden underneath some trees. Here were two seats and a table, and as the other girls were all very busy at play in other parts of the garden, Hilda and her little companion were not observed by them. They did not, however, sit down long, Dolly knowing that they were not allowed to do so in recreation-time, but walked backwards and forwards underneath some trees.

When it was time to go in, Hilda carried Cleopatra herself. She had been very unselfish in lending her a great deal to Dolly, but she wanted particularly to carry her home; and as she now went along expecting all the girls she met, and passed on the way, to notice and admire Cleopatra as much as she admired her herself, what was her disappointment and vexation when ever so many girls burst out laughing at the doll, called after her and Hilda, and pointing at Cleopatra, made all sorts of unkind remarks!

The governess who was out with the girls told them to be quiet, but they did not hearken much to what she said, and she herself smiled at the strange-looking doll that the little English child held so lovingly in her arms.

This, and the girls' unkindness, made Hilda feel very