"I say, are you Jocelyn Graham?"
Joey opened her eyes hastily. A girl was standing by her, a girl with long lovely auburn-brown hair and clear eyes a shade darker, and a delicate clear skin. She wasn't as tall as Joey herself, anything like, and she hadn't the superior way of talking, which Joey had noticed in the rest.
"You are Jocelyn, aren't you?" this girl went on, and Joey liked her way of saying it, for it was friendly. "Well, do let me take you to Miss Conyngham—yes, it's all right, she really wants you—and she sent for you some time ago, you know."
Joey remembered. Panic took hold of her. "Will she be mad?"
The pretty girl smiled. "She's seeing the other new girls. You'll be all right if we run."
They ran. Somehow Joey did not doubt this new friend. "What's your name?" she asked breathlessly, as they tore up from the stream and across the gardens.
"Gabrielle—Gabrielle Arden."
"Why did you come after me?" Joey asked.
"Oh, Noreen thought you had gone down that way."
"It was decent of you," Joey said, with conviction.