A Little Queen of Hearts by Ruth Ogden — Read

The old belfry clock was striking eight as Harold and Marie-Celeste put in an appearance at the lodgings where the little party were staying in Oxford, and of course there was a great deal to be told; but alas! too, for Marie-Celeste so much that must not be told, under any circumstances. If you think it easy to be sole possessor of a piece of news that would rejoice the hearts of your nearest and dearest, and yet for extreme precaution's sake have given your promise on no account to divulge it, why then all that can be said is that you were never in Marie-Celeste's shoes. If it had been an uncomfortable piece of news it would have been vastly easier. There ought to be no pleasure at all in conveying bad news to people, though here and there, it must be confessed, one sometimes meets individuals who seem to rejoice in any news whatsoever, and the more startling and surprising the better.

But Marie-Celeste succeeded in getting through the first few hours without telling: the two hours with Harold on the train, a very trying half hour when she was all alone with her mother, and another trying half hour the next morning, when she was sitting in the breakfast-room with Dorothy; and after that the worst was over, so many delightful things came along to claim everyone's thought and attention. And one of the most delightful things of all -- at least in the children's estimation -- came with that Sunday afternoon in Oxford, and Dorothy was the one to be thanked for it.