"Yes," nodded Rose; "mother says it's right she should be. If we were late, she would keep us in after twelve o'clock, and most likely give us each an imposition—though perhaps you would go unpunished, as it is your first day. You have never been to school before, have you?"
"Never. Mother taught me to read and write. And then a young lady, a governess who lodged at the same house that we did, used to teach me in the evenings. How many girls are there at Miss Matthews' school?"
"About a dozen—most of them are boarders. Here we are. You see it takes us quite a quarter of an hour to walk to school."
Miss Matthews' house was at the far end of the village. It was a modern red-brick villa with bow windows, over the under-blinds of one of which Mavis saw the heads of several girls. Rose led the way into the house by a side door. And, having shown her cousin where to leave her hat and jacket on one of a row of pegs in the passage, piloted her to the schoolroom, and introduced her to her schoolfellows. A few minutes later, Miss Matthews herself appeared upon the scene, followed by a young governess called Miss Forbes.
"So this is my new pupil," observed Miss Matthews, her eyes scrutinizing Mavis very kindly as she shook hands with her. "You are called Mavis, I hear," she proceeded; "it is an uncommon name and a very pretty one."
Miss Matthews was a dark, middle-aged woman with a plain, clever face, and Mavis' first impression of her was that she was very ugly, but the moment a smile lit up her countenance, she decided that she was really quite good-looking.
By-and-by, the new pupil was handed over to the governess, who classed her with several little girls varying from ten to twelve years of age. And so her school life began.
It was soon discovered that though Mavis' education had been carried on in a somewhat desultory fashion, she was by no means backward. She owned an excellent memory, and was quick to learn, taking after her father, as her uncle remarked when Rose told him how easily her cousin mastered her lessons.
"She has inherited Rupert's clever brain," he said to his wife. "You can look in her face and see she's as sharp as a needle. I hope she'll brisk up our Rose, who's one of the slow, plodding sort—like myself," he added, with a laugh.
This speech did not please his hearer, though she recognized its truth. Rose had many excellent qualities, but she was not in the least clever, as far as book-learning was concerned, and found lessons great drudgery.