"No. She's been in there ever since she arrived."
"Don't talk so loud; she'll hear you."
"I don't care if she does."
"I want to know what she's doing."
"I can tell you, then," said Chatty Burns, in a whisper that was more audible by far than her ordinary voice.
"What?"
"Crying! New girls always cry, and some old ones too, if you take Pauline as a specimen."
"I'm not crying now!" protested Pauline indignantly. "And how can you tell that the new girl is?"
"I'm as certain as if I'd proved a proposition in Euclid. Why should she have drawn her curtains so closely? If she's not lying on her bed, with a clean pocket-handkerchief to her eyes, I'll give you six caramels in exchange for three peppermint creams!"
"Then you're just mistaken!" cried a voice from the end cubicle. The chintz curtain was pulled aside, and out marched a figure with so jaunty an air as to banish utterly the idea of possible homesickness or tears.