Bess began to breathe more freely. It was one thing to face Linda Riggs down in the train; but in the presence of all these girls who knew her and did not know the newcomers—bold Elizabeth found her pluck oozing rapidly away.
Dr. Prescott beckoned to one girl of the group, and said: “Play hostess in my stead, Laura, please. This is Laura Polk, Nancy and Elizabeth. She will show you where to freshen up a bit before supper, and lead you to the dining hall, as well. Owing to the delay of the workmen in making some repairs, we are still in some confusion, but you will be assigned to your rooms before supper is over. I hope you will be very happy with us.”
She patted Nan’s shoulder, put her arm for a moment around Bess, and then floated—rather than walked—away. Nan had never seen anybody so graceful of carriage as this lady. Even “Momsey,” whom she worshipped, could not cross a room as did the preceptress of Lakeview Hall.
The girl whom she had introduced to the two friends, Laura Polk, was a smiling, freckled girl, with a fiery thatch of hair. It was not bronze, or red-gold, or any other fashionable color. It was just plain, unmistakable red—nothing else.
She seemed to be a very pleasant girl. What Linda Riggs had said about Nan and Bess in her hearing made no impression on Laura.
“Come on, lambkins,” she said. “I wager you feel all cinders and smutch after such a long ride in the cars.”
“We do,” Nan agreed fervently.
“W’ay from Chicago?”
“Yes,” said Bess, finding her voice.
“I came up myself day-before-yesterday,” said Laura. “I know what it is.”