Nan flashed a glance up the steps. There had softly swept to the break of the short flight, a lovely lady in trailing robes, gray bands of hair smoothed over her ears, gray eyes as luminous as stars; and only the soft lace at the low-cut neck of her gown to divide its gray shade from the softly pink complexion of Dr. Beulah Prescott.
“She’s beautiful,” breathed Nan in her chum’s ear.
“Girls!” then said the preceptress of Lakeview Hall again. “The supper gong is sounding. Bring the new arrivals in. They may have ten minutes in the lavatory on this floor before appearing at table.”
“How do you do, Linda? I hope you are quite well. And these are two of our new girls?”
Nan and Bess had picked up their possessions and now mounted the steps hesitatingly.
“Come right here, my dears,” said Dr. Prescott, holding out a slim, beautifully white hand on which there was no jewel. “It must be that you are the two friends from Tillbury, who were to arrive by this train.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Nan said.
“You are Nancy Sherwood?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And this other is Elizabeth Harley?” pursued Dr. Prescott, shaking hands with them both.