“We—ell!” exclaimed Bess, again. “She’s rich.”
“Bess! I’m astonished at you,” declared Nan, with some heat. “Any one to hear you would think you a money-worshipper. How can you bear to be friends with me when my folks are poor.”
Bess began to laugh at her. “Poor?” she repeated. “And your dear mother just fallen heir to fifty thousand dollars?”
“Oh—well—I forgot that,” returned Nan, meekly. “But I know you loved me before we had any prospect of having money, Bess. Don’t let’s toady to rich girls when we get to this school. Let’s pick our friends by some other standard.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed her chum. “I’ve had a lesson. That hateful thing! But if she does tell stories about us to the other girls——”
“We can disprove them by Professor Krenner,” added Nan. “Don’t worry.”
“I don’t like him,” repeated Bess, pouting.
But Nan did. She was quite sure the instructor with the big, shell-rimmed spectacles, understood girls very well indeed, and that he would be a good friend and a jolly companion if one would allow him to be.
There was that about Professor Krenner that reminded her of her own dear father. They were both given to little, dry jokes; they were both big men, with large, strong hands; and they were both very observant.
How she would get along with the other instructors at Lakeview Hall, and with Dr. Beulah Prescott, herself, Nan did not know; but she felt that she and Professor Krenner would always be good friends.