“Plenty of room up front!”
“Why, Belle Macdonald’s piled her bags up in the corner and has gone to sleep on ’em!” shrieked somebody from ahead, as the ’bus lurched forward.
Nancy was confused, hurt, and ashamed. The horse splashed through the puddles and the ’bus plunged and shook over the cobbles.
There were few street lights, and such as there were were dim and wavering in the mist and falling rain. She could see nothing of Clintondale, except that huge trees lined the streets.
The girls were cross, or loud. Not one spoke to her kindly. She was shaken about by the ’bus, and scolded by those whom she was forced to trample upon when she lost her footing.
The new girl from Higbee was much depressed. All her pride and satisfaction in being sent to such a popular school as Pinewood had oozed away.
Her experience with Mr. Gordon added to her unhappiness. She had learned nothing by going to him. He had even called her disobedient.
If these girls were a sample of Pinewood Hall pupils, Nancy knew that she had a hard row to hoe ahead of her. And she had not liked the appearance of those other girls in the train, either.
It was a hopeless outlook. She would have cried—only she was ashamed to do so in the sight of these sharp-tongued, quarreling sophomores. Poor Nancy Nelson’s introduction to Pinewood Hall seemed a most unfortunate one.