Sylvia Richardson, seventeen, was trying to pack her suitcase; of course, that would only happen if only she could control the trembling of her hands and the wild beating of her heart. She kept thinking, “How was it possible that I was so blessed? She had just visited Miss Thompson's office and been informed that she was going to join a prestigious girls' boarding school in London. This was due to the influence of one of the school's board members; and who was also one of the sponsors of the Ashwood Home For Girls, the orphanage where Sylvia lived. The godmother, Lady Elizabeth Montgomery, had taken a particular interest in Sylvia, although Miss Thompson could not say why. It was also imperative that Sylvia be ready to leave within two hours as Lady Montgomery would be picking her up. She looked down at the suitcase, which was the only new thing she owned. When she turned to leave Miss Thompson's office, Miss Marsha, as Miss Thompson was affectionately called, said to her, "You could use a new suitcase" and gave her the suitcase that Miss Marsha had just come out of a closet. The medium-sized suitcase, made of fine leather, delighted Sylvia. She carefully placed all of her neatly folded belongings, which mainly consisted of a few second-hand clothes; a red ribbon that she had always had, at least since the moment she had been found an orphan at the door of the orphanage, if what Miss Marsha said was true; and a Bible.Four hours later, she stood at the entrance to St. Paul's International Girls' Boarding School, clutching her suitcase tightly. Lady Montgomery placed her hands on Sylvia's shoulders reassuringly. Sylvia however, was... middle of paper... her room was on fire; an unattended candle had fallen, causing the curtains to catch fire. Serena shouted, "Come out, Sylvia and call for help!" I'll try to do something, hurry up!' Sylvia ran out of her room and called for help. Soon, police and firefighters arrived and began putting out the fire. Everyone was huddled together when Sylvia suddenly realized that Serena wasn't there. 'Help! Someone! There's always a girl in there. The head nurse said: “Everyone is present. There is no one there. "No, Serena is here." The matron, suddenly shocked, asked: “Which child, Serena?” We don't have anyone named Serena in this hostel; Lady Elizabeth had a daughter named Serena. She died in a fire sixteen years ago while trying to save her sister. The baby had a red ribbon tied to his hand, unfortunately after the incident the child was lost. It was a big deal in those days.’