"No," replied Glenda. "This came by the afternoon post and it's from my cousin, who lives at Croftdene. She thinks her news might be of interest to us. It has given me a thrill, anyway."
"Something about St. Etheldreda's?" asked Irene Eames in surprise.
Glenda nodded. She was a tall girl of striking appearance, always beautifully dressed, with dark hair and eyes and a rather dramatic way of talking. She delighted in creating sensations and had a large following among the Fifth. In fact, she and her friend—red-haired, hot-tempered, clever Irene Eames—were the acknowledged leaders of the form.
"I should just think it is," Glenda replied with emphasis. "It's about this new girl who hasn't turned up yet. It seems she's a real bad lot, according to my cousin, who thinks we're in for a lively time."
"Does she know her, then?"
"No, but—well, I'll tell you how it is. A lady named Mrs. Whiddon recently came to live in the old Grange at Croftdene. My aunt and cousin went to call, and before the acquaintance was many weeks old they discovered that Mrs. Whiddon had a niece, who was so naughty and troublesome she didn't know what to do with her. She sent her away to a boarding-school last term, and"—here Glenda paused with great dramatic effect—"she was expelled!"
There were exclamations of incredulous wonder from Glenda's little audience.
"It's quite true, because it comes from the girl's own aunt and guardian," declared Glenda. "At the end of the term—she was only there a term—the Principal wrote and asked Mrs. Whiddon to take her niece away, as she was quite unmanageable and would have a bad influence on the other girls."
"I wonder what she did," breathed Betty Cairns, awestruck. "It must have been something dreadful."
Glenda shook her head. "I don't know. Mrs. Whiddon didn't say. Mustn't she be a bright specimen, though—the niece, I mean!"