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"I know another place that's far lovelier," Felicity answers. I flash her a warning glance.

"Really? Any place I might've been?"

"Oh, I don't think so. It's a secret place. A sort of private paradise." Felicity smiles dreamily.

"Best not tell me, then. I don't know if I could be trusted in paradise."

She gives an almost girlish laugh. I try to imagine what Miss Moore must have been like as a girl. Was she obedient? Cruel? Rebellious? Shy? Did she have a good friend and a secret place where she found a retreat from the world? Was she ever like us?

"What is this you're reading?" The diary is sitting out in plain view. Ann goes to snatch it but Miss Moore is quicker. My heart is in my throat as Miss Moore turns the diary over in her hands, examining it.

Felicity is quick. "It's just some silly romance. We found it in the library. After your suggestion."

"Was this my suggestion?"

"Going to the library I mean."

Miss Moore opens the book. We don't dare look at each other.

" 'The Secret Diary of Mary Dowd.' My" A page falls to the floor. "What's this?"

Dear God! The illustration! Felicity and I nearly knock each other down in our mad rush to reach the forbidden image before she does.

"Nothing," Felicity says. "Just some doodling."

"I see." Miss Moore turns a page and then another.

"We take turns reading it aloud," Ann offers. We're squirming in our seats.

Miss Moore's eyes never leave the pages as she says, "Perhaps tonight I shall join you. Would you indulge me?"

It's not as if we can say no.

"Of course," Felicity croaks. "I'll show you where we left off. We're almost to the end, I believe."

Miss Moore's eyes scan the page in her hands. The waiting is interminable. I'm sure she's going to march us off to Mrs.

Nightwing at any moment. But at last, her deep, warm voice fills the tent.

"April 6, 1871

"What we have done cannot be undone. Tonight, I went into the woods with Sarah. Night bloomed, and the moon grew fat in the sky. It wasn't long before Mother Elena's child, Carolina, came tripping along to us. We had promised her a dolly.

"'Have you brought my dolly back?'

"'Yes,' Sarah told her. 'She's clean and new and waiting for you just beyond these trees. Come, Carolina, and we'll take you to her.' "It was a most egregious lie and one that hid the dreadful purpose of our hearts.

"But the child believed us. She took our hands and wandered off happily with us, singing a bit of an old tune.

"When we reached the school, she asked, 'Where is my dolly?'"

"'Inside! I said, my heart turning to stone.

"But the child was afraid and refused to go.

'"Your pretty dolly is missing you. And we've got lovely toffees, besides,' Sarah said.

"And I shall let you wear my pretty white pinafore,' I said, lacing her arms through and tightening the ribbons at the back. 'My, how pretty you look.' This cheered her considerably and she followed us into the cupola of the East Wing, where we set our candles to burning."

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