"Tidying the Lab? Well, I shouldn't waste any time," Syb chimed in. "As soon as you get to Redlands, I should say—anyone would show you where it is."
"Righto!" Joey told them, with outward cheerfulness, though inward tremors. "Anything else?"
Noreen's blue eyes had an odd gleam. "Not much. You lace up the Senior Prefect's boots; she is Ingrid Latimer—and ... and ... write out the supper menus for cook."
"What?" shrieked Joey.
"Oh, don't you remember, Noreen, they stopped that because Mary Hertford wrote like a diseased spider," Syb contributed. "The scholarship kid only ... only...."
She choked.
"You're not having me on?" demanded Joey.
"My dear Kid; go to the Lab when you get there, and see if we are."
The train stopped. "Mote Deep" flashed before their eyes. The station for Redlands was reached. Joey grasped her things and asked no further questions. She was there!
She stood forlornly by her suit-case on the platform, while the rest fell upon some other girls waiting for them there. Joey stood apart. Noreen seemed to be telling some story in an emphatic whisper, a funny story evidently, for everybody shrieked with laughter, except one freckled girl, who said lazily, "What a shame!" and looked towards Joey as though she had half a mind to come and speak to her. Joey hoped that she would, but she didn't. It was Syb who came at last, when all the luggage had been got out and piled in the rather ancient cabs which still did duty in Little Holland.