Half an hour later, the five girls were led to the dining room and seated at one of several long tables. Mr. Black they perceived at a distance—a tremendous distance it seemed—at Doctor Rhodes’s own table.
“There’s custard pie, tonight,” whispered the girl next to Henrietta. Not a pretty girl, but her face was alive with mischief and Henrietta liked her at once. “I saw pies and pies cooling in the basement window when I crawled under the veranda to see what they kept in there. Grand place to hide. What’s your name? Mine’s Maude Wilder and I live in Chicago. My room’s in the West Dormitory too, so you’ll see a lot of me.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Henrietta.
“The three girls over there with the fancy hair are Seniors. The other big girls at that table are Juniors. They don’t mix very much with the rest of us.”
“Won’t you have a biscuit?” asked a gentle voice at Bettie’s right. “I’m Sarah Dickinson—Sallie for short.”
Bettie looked at Sallie. She saw a slender girl of about fifteen, with dark blue, rather sad eyes, light brown hair and a pale skin. Her shoulders drooped a little and there was something rather pathetic about her smile. The blue collar of her middy blouse was very much faded. This was very noticeable because, just at the beginning of the term as it was, nearly all the garments in sight were brand new.
“Are you a new girl?” asked Bettie.
“I’m the oldest girl,” returned Sallie. “I’ve been here, vacations and all, for five years. I haven’t any home of my own.”
Later, Bettie learned more about Sallie. Her mother had died when Sallie was about nine years old. For a time she had lived alone with her father but he had decided that she would be better off in a girls’ school. An old man, her grandfather, perhaps, had brought her to Highland Hall, paying her tuition for one year in advance. Something had happened to her father. When the school year was finished it was discovered that Sallie had no home to go to, her relatives having somehow disappeared. Anne Blodgett, a last year’s girl who told Bettie about it, was not very sure of her facts. Anyway, the housekeeper had allowed her to stay because the little girl seemed likely to prove useful—there were many errands to do in a house like that.
She was still staying and still proving useful; but the kindly housekeeper had departed and stern Mrs. Rhodes had apparently taken the housekeeper’s place. Sallie was kept busier than ever. She sometimes seemed a bit dazed and bewildered and just a little bit down-hearted; but at first she had very little to say about herself.