CHAPTER III
AT THE WINDOW TABLE
“I just half-guessed you’d be in our room,” said Gerry. “That was why I couldn’t help speaking to you in the station.”
She had dimpled herself into Betty’s cubicle, and had perched herself, still dimpling, on the side of Betty’s bed. Her hat had been left downstairs, and a mass of red-to-golden hair seemed almost to glitter as she sat there. To Betty’s admiring eyes she seemed a glittery sort of person altogether.
“When I saw you standing under the clock,” continued Gerry, as the dimple came and went, “I said, ‘That’s her!’” She broke off suddenly—not to correct her grammatical lapse, but to start in surprise at the sound of a louder voice than her own.
“Geraldine!” said the outraged voice.
“Oh!” cried Gerry with an apologetic squeak.
She rose from the white coverlet as she squeaked, and was attempting to remove certain creases as Nurse drew back the curtain.
“In another girl’s cubicle, and before half an hour of the term has passed, Geraldine!” remarked the starched and stately dignitary. “I had two thoughts about putting a new girl in here at all; for with you so forgetful and all, how’s she to learn the rules? Rumpling the covers—!” Nurse bent down and smoothed the coverlet herself; “and she younger than you, and needing teaching!”
