72 THE CINDERELLA FROCK.

ing, she ventured in among them almost
confidently.

What could Mr. Lisle go in for? There
he sat busy with his pencils the whole fore-
noon. Had he got it in his mind to take all
their portraits ? .

But poor Rovina ! instead of taking her old
place in the class that day, she crept to the
very foot and read in such a spiritless, melan-
choly tone, it made one’s heart ache. She
had no wish to breathe the fresh air at recess-
time—O, no; she kept there at her desk,
poring over her atlas the whole time. Her
eyes on it, but not studying. No, indeed.
Her heart was too nearly broken to allow of
that. She wished almost she could sink into
the ground, as Louise said, she had heard of
such things. And to see how briskly they
had all gone out; and now she could hear