“Yes. I’ve been carrying a lot of them to Clintondale this week. The Hall opens day after to-morrow. Anybody to meet you, Miss?”
“I telegraphed on from Cincinnati,” said Nancy.
“That’s all right, then. One of the ’bus men will be on the lookout for you.”
“But are those all new girls, too?” asked Nancy, earnestly, as the conductor was about to pass on.
“No. But most of them have been there only one term. That tall girl is named Montgomery. Her father’s a State Senator—guess you’ve heard of Senator Montgomery? Go up and speak to them,” and the conductor passed on.
But Nancy did not have the courage to take his advice. She, however, observed the girls with renewed interest.
The tall one—the Montgomery girl—was very richly dressed, and she seemed to think a good deal of what she wore. She was always arranging her gown, and looking in the glass to see if her hat was on straight—and occasionally Nancy caught her powdering her nose.
There was a black-haired girl, too, with very sharp eyes and a lean face, who laughed whenever the Montgomery girl said anything supposed to be funny, and seemed to ape the Senator’s daughter in other ways, too. The other girls called her “Cora.”
Once Nancy went forward to get a drink of water. She passed the group of her future schoolmates slowly, hoping that some of them would speak to her. But none did, and when she came back down the aisle, the tall girl eyed her with disdain.
Nancy flushed and hurried by; but not too quickly to hear the Montgomery girl say: