"Right opposite. Blue Dorm uses No. 8," Barbara vouchsafed.
"Thank you," Joey answered, with extraordinary meekness, a meekness that was almost overdone. These horrid swanky girls had forced her to accept the worst corner of the room, but it was certainly nearest the door, and Joey was quite clear in her own mind which of the Blue Dorm occupants was going to have first tub to-night.
They went down to supper after that; the three together, and Joey behind. There was a very nice supper laid in the huge refectory; but Joey was home-sick for the little sitting-room at Calgarloch and the brandered herrings and the brown bread, and Robina, the lass, bringing in the pudding, and joining freely in the conversation if she felt inclined.
Joey sat between two rather big girls, and they only spoke once to her to ask her name and age, and then talked hockey across her for the rest of the meal. Not that Joey cared; she assured herself that she didn't want to be friends with these girls.
There was dancing after supper in the Queen's Hall, but Joey looked on. Dancing wasn't taught at Calgarloch, and she refused decidedly when Gabrielle came and asked for a valse. And then at nine there were prayers, and the whole of the Upper School, with Remove II. A and B of the Lower, filed past Miss Conyngham and said good-night. The Juniors had been swept off a good deal earlier.
Joey was really glad when bedtime came. She was longing to get a bit of her own back. Noreen and Co. had taken her in, and made an utter fool of her over the tidying of the Lab and the putting on of the Head Girl's boots; but Joey wasn't going to sit down meekly under the treatment. She managed to plant herself just in front of Sybil, Barbara, and Noreen in the long procession; and before she went downstairs she had put out her towel, sponges, etc., where she could snatch them easily. The procession moved on; and she moved with it.
She could hear Miss Conyngham's clear, mellow voice, "Good-night, Jacynth. Good-night, Mary. Good-night, Doron—oh, what about that tooth? Has it given you more trouble?"
Block number one. Joey heard Syb's grumble behind. "Bother Doron's toothache—the water will be cold."
Doron's toothache was much better, thank you; yes, the stuff had done it a lot of good; she wouldn't want any more, she thought. "Thank you, Miss Conyngham."