"Are you going to call her grandmother or great-aunt, or mother-in-law?"
"By her rightful name, Miss Craven."
"Well, I wish you joy of her. It almost compensates me for having to ask in French for every mouthful I eat, and inquire if the day is fair, if the door is locked, and if you have found the book of my friend. She will not even venture upon that. And what have you been doing the whole poky week?"
"It hasn't seemed a bit poky. I have practiced scales and fingerings, and gone into the early stages of French," answered Helen gayly.
"Aha! Well, I've just put in all the fun I could. Two very young people's parties, a grand concert, and to a euchre club that was delightful with the most charming partner with whom I established telegraphic communication. And just a lovely flirtation. What do you think? He asked if we might not correspond?"
Helen flushed, remembering her innocent attempt.
"Oh, you needn't look so indignant over it; and I am pretty sure one of my sisters is engaged. Perhaps I won't need to stay at school more than next year."
"I should be glad to stay five years," cried Helen enthusiastically.
Daisy Bell was on the other side of Helen, and she looked rather askance at the newcomer, making the least cool little bow.
"I've really wanted to get back to you," she began when they had gone to their room. "They laughed at me at home, and my brother said there must always be someone for a schoolgirl to adore, and that he thought I would pass the dangerous period safely, but that it had broken out with virulence," and she laughed with light-hearted amusement.