“My name is not ‘Pauline,’” interposed Beth, her eyes dancing. “It’s Beth.”
“Oh, how jolly!” cried the other. “I never knew a girl named Beth outside of a story-book.”
“It’s my real name,” Beth said demurely.
“And are you going to school?”
“Yes.”
“Not to Rivercliff?”
“Yes; I am,” Beth said, her own eagerness increasing. “Are you?”
“How jolly!” ejaculated this rather exclamatory girl. “I certainly am going to Miss ’Ammersly’s hestablishment, as it would have been called in ‘dear hold Hengland,’ had she remained there to conduct her school.”
“Oh! is the principal English?” asked Beth.
“The nicest kind. And Madam Hammersly! Wait till you see her! She wears the cunningest caps.”