"Miss Kaye has sent me to take you to the playroom," she said. "We've just finished tea. You've had yours, haven't you? So come along."
"What's your name?" asked Sylvia, stuffing her handkerchief back into her pocket in a hurry, and blinking the remains of a drop off her eyelashes. She was too proud to care to be caught crying like a baby, and hoped her companion had not noticed.
"Linda Marshall. I know yours. Miss Kaye told us this morning. You're going to be in our class, and you're to sleep in my bedroom, because I'm the only one who hasn't got a room mate. Do come! Miss Kaye'll be cross if we're not quick. We're not allowed in the drawing-room at all, only she sent me in to fetch you."
"Do you like being here?" asked Sylvia, following her new friend with some deliberation.
"Sh! we mayn't speak in the hall! There, I can talk to you now we're down the passage. Yes, of course, I like it. Everyone does; we have such jolly times. Now come here," pausing with her hand on the door handle, "I want to go in quite suddenly and surprise them."
She flung the door open, and, with a giggle, announced "Miss Sylvia Lindsay", giving our heroine such a vigorous push forward that she nearly fell into the midst of a group of girls who were standing close by. There were six of them, and they had evidently been waiting to see the new arrival, though they pretended they were only finding some books and putting away their paintboxes. They looked steadily at Sylvia, but no one volunteered a remark, and the silence would have grown oppressive had not Linda come to the rescue. "Now then," she cried, "have you all gone dumb? Sylvia, this is our class. I'll tell you their names. Connie Camden, Hazel Prestbury, Marian and Gwennie Woodhouse, Nina Forster, and Jessie Ellis. There were only seven of us before, and you'll make eight. It's a much nicer number, because we can just get up a set of lancers by ourselves now, without one of the second class joining. I hope you know the lancers?"
"A little," said Sylvia, who felt rather overwhelmed by the six pairs of eyes fixed upon her.
"We'll soon teach you if you don't. The dancing lessons begin next week, and they are such fun. Miss Delaney is a perfect dear. We all adore her. I'm sure you'll think she's sweet; won't she, girls?"
"Of course she will," said Marian Woodhouse. "I ought to know, because I learnt from Miss Delaney before I came here. We're to have the tarantella this term."
"And a skirt dance," added Hazel Prestbury. "Have you brought an accordion-pleated dress with you for dancing?"