The driver snapped his whip and the ’bus rumbled on. The drive was winding and the trees soon hid the lighted lodge.
But other bright lamps began to appear ahead. By stooping, as she clung to one of the hand-straps, Nancy was able to descry the outlines of several big buildings—or a huge building with several wings; she did not know which it was, and did not feel like inquiring.
Indeed, after entering the ’bus she had not spoken to the girls at all. Some of them had thrown a question at her now and then, but it had been either an impudent or an unkind one, and she had grimly held her tongue.
At last the ’bus stopped at the foot of a wide flight of steps. A great awning of glass and iron sheltered the porch and steps. Under this burned a bright light, and within the building Nancy could see a great hall with two staircases rising out of it.
This was indeed a very different place from Higbee School, with its cottages and one small recitation hall.
“Come on! You get out first, Greeny,” commanded one girl. “You were the last sardine shoved into this awful box. Move; can’t you?”
Nancy rescued her bag from under their feet and staggered out of the door of the ’bus. The other girls piled after her.
There were very few on the porch to receive them; boisterousness would not have been allowed here. But there were lights in a long room at one side—Nancy could see them shining through the windows—and a rattle of china and glass, and loud talking and laughter, pointed the way to the dining room.
“But you’re on starvation diet, Greeny,” said one of the girls, with a malicious laugh. “No dinner for you till you’ve seen the Madame.”
At that moment considerable disturbance was raised over the fact that the ’bus was driving off with one of the girls still in it.