She moved very grudgingly to make room, but she did not speak to me, nor take any further notice. Lucy and I sat silently watching our thirty companions. It was all new and strange to us—the fresh faces, the school-girl chaff, the jokes and allusions to things of which we as yet knew nothing, and we wondered how long it would be before we could take our part in that lively conversation.
"I never can eat anything the first night," declared one of the girls, mopping her eyes rather ostentatiously with a lace-edged pocket-handkerchief. "I'm always so terribly homesick, and they cut the bread so thick!"
"Nothing spoils my appetite," proclaimed Ernestine Salt. "I'm so frightfully hungry, I shall eat your share. I didn't have half enough sandwiches on the journey, though I bought three oranges and two jam-tarts at the railway-station as well. Where is the bread-and-butter?"
As the plate was within my reach, I handed it to her. She looked me coolly up and down, as if she were taking in every detail of my appearance, but she did not thank me.
"Oh, never mind manners, just help yourself and shove it on," she said carelessly. "We do as we like the first evening. Mrs. Marshall will come down to tea to-morrow, and then it'll have to be prunes and prism."
"Not so loud, Ernestine, I can hear your voice above all the others," said Miss Buller, who seemed trying to check the talk that every now and then threatened to become too uproarious.
A fresh instalment of girls, who had arrived by a later train, and now joined the tea-table, claimed general attention, and the meal at length being over, the whole party trooped away to the play-room. It was a chilly evening, and I stood by the fire warming my hands, while I watched the various girls who were walking about arm in arm, or standing together in select little groups. They were most of them laughing and talking with much excitement, but the loudest and noisiest of them all was Ernestine Salt, who with a few choice spirits had taken possession of the table, where she sat dangling her legs and eating chocolate, the silver paper from which she made into small hard pellets, and fired at unsuspecting passers-by, provoking shrieks of laughter from her companions. So amusing did she evidently find this occupation, that, the pellets being exhausted, she fished some walnut-shells out of her pocket, and commenced a perfect onslaught on a neighbouring group of girls. They, however, did not take it so peaceably, for, suddenly seizing the table, they tilted it over, sending her ignominiously sprawling upon the floor, while, seating themselves in her vacant place, they announced their intention of holding the fort against all comers.
"I don't care!" said Ernestine, picking herself up, and moving away towards the fire. "It's horribly cold, and I was going to get warm anyhow. You can keep your old table, if you want. Here, get out of my way, you little animal!" and, pushing me rudely aside, she pulled a chair forward and seated herself in the very front of the cheerful blaze.
"I'm not an animal!" I said with some indignation, for I thought her manner most disagreeable, and I was determined to hold my own.
"Mineral, then, if you prefer it!" she returned, with a laugh.