"Perhaps she hasn't arrived yet."
"Sh! Sh!" said Pauline Reynolds, squeezing Madge's arm by way of remonstrance, and pointing to the closely-drawn curtains of the cubicle at the farther end of the room. "She's here now."
"Where?"
"There, you goose!"
"What has she shut herself up like that for?"
"How should I know?"
"Perhaps she's unpacking," suggested Dorothy Arkwright.
"If she is, she'll finish it quicker than Lettice and I can," returned Maisie Talbot. "Why can't you be hanging up some of those skirts, instead of sitting staring at me? Yes, this is a whole box of Edinburgh rock, but you shan't have a single piece, any of you, unless you get off my bed at once."
"Poor old Maisie, don't grow excited!" murmured Ruth Latimer, appropriating the box and handing it round, though no one attempted to move.
"But look here! what about this new girl?" persisted Madge. "Hasn't anybody seen her?"