"Thought I'd change with Nita to-day," observed Jack laconically, as, grace having been said, the girls sat down in their chairs. "I get fed up with sitting in one place all the time." And then, as though afraid to pursue the subject any further, she made haste to change the conversation.
"What's for dinner to-day?" she asked, as the maids began to hand round plates with a speed and dexterity born of much practice. "Oh, hang it all—it's boiled mutton again! And I bet you anything you like it will be boiled suet roll afterwards! Matron always likes to arrange things like that. Boiled mutton, boiled potatoes, boiled turnips—what did I tell you? I put my money on boiled suet roll for sweets."
"You're too optimistic," said Nita gloomily. "I feel in my bones it's going to be rice pudding. Or if it isn't rice it'll be sago. If there's one pudding I loathe worse than rice it's sago!"
"It won't be sago to-day," said Jack cheerfully. "We had sago on Wednesday. No—it'll be boiled suet roll, you just see if it isn't. Louie darling,"—to the maid who was handing her vegetables at the moment,—"what's for pudding to-day? Do tell us, there's an angel! Is it sago or rice or boiled suet roll? Tell us the worst at once and let's get it over."
"None of them, miss; it's treacle tart to-day," replied the maid, with a grin. Jack was as thoroughly popular with the maids as she was with everybody else at Wakehurst, and the little shriek of joy which the girl emitted at her announcement made Louie determined to see that the school favourite received a good-sized share of the popular sweet.
"Hurrah! Now I can even manage to eat a little boiled mutton," said Jack. And setting to work she tackled her viands with an appetite which drew forth a sardonic remark from Nita.
"For a person who doesn't like boiled mutton, I must say you're managing to get it down pretty well," she said.
"Ah, but you see, the thought of treacle tart to follow sustains me," replied Jack, quite unabashed. "What's your favourite pudding, Gerry? Treacle tart or the apple pie we get on Sundays? I wonder why on Sundays it is always apple pie?"
"It's one of the rules of the Medes and Persians," said Nita, "that's why."
"Which do you like best, Gerry?" persisted Jack.