To the west the lake extended as far as the girls on the porch could see, a part of its sparkling surface being hidden by the green and hilly bulk of Bliss Island. The shaded green lawns of the campus between Dare and Hoskin Halls were crossed by winding paths.
A fleshy girl who was near the group but not of it, had been viewing this lovely landscape with pleasure. Now she frankly listened to the chatter of the "inquisitors."
"Well," Edith Phelps insisted, "this Ruth Fielding was so petted at that backwoods' school where she has been that I suppose there will be no living in the same house with her."
Edith was one of the older sophomores—quite old, indeed, to the eyes of the plump girl who was listening. But the latter smiled quietly, nevertheless, as she listened to the sophomore's speech.
"We shall have to take her down a peg or two, of course. It's bad enough to have the place littered up with a lot of freshies——"
"Just as we littered it up last year at this time, Edie," suggested May, with a chuckle.
"Well," Edith said, laughing, "if I don't put this Ruth Fielding, the authoress, in her place in a hurry, it won't be because I sha'n't try."
"Have a care, dearie," admonished one quiet girl who had not spoken before. "Remember the warning we had at commencement."
"About what?" demanded two or three.
"About that Rolff girl, you know," said the thoughtful girl.