A big bowl of pinks, too, stood in the middle of each of the three tables, one of which—of circular shape—was smaller than the others. This round table was placed in the very centre of the room, and was flanked on either side by a longer and narrower one. Betty, standing in the doorway, saw six senior girls take their places at the round table, while a line of junior girls, each evidently taking her own seat by right, advanced to each of the narrow tables in quiet file.
“Geraldine, please take Betty Carlyle to the window table with you,” came the voice of a mistress standing at the door.
It was all so quiet and orderly, and yet it didn’t feel “ruley.” Every girl, as Betty took her place at the corner of her table, seemed cheerily smiling at her neighbour as though thoroughly contented with her lot. The new girl felt contented too, but her feeling of contentment changed suddenly to one of surprise when, after listening to the words of the Grace pronounced by the mistress in charge, every tongue seemed suddenly unloosed all round her, and the room began to buzz and hum with animated conversation.
“Well, as I was just beginning to tell you when the gong sounded, we—” burst out somebody sitting close by and speaking to her table neighbour.
“The day Paul broke his ankle, I can tell you, First Aid came in useful,” pronounced somebody else with enthusiasm.
“I started at nine, and I hardly had any lunch,” came a ravenous voice.
Everybody seemed to have something to say except Betty, and she didn’t need to talk to Gerry at her side; for Gerry, evidently keen to make her companion feel at home, burst into a glib and speedy description of their immediate surroundings.
“That’s Mona opposite to you. She sleeps in our room. She’s talking to Molly now, but I’ll make her look presently. We don’t talk across tables, you know.
“Isn’t it nice that you’re a ‘window-table’ girl! It’s much the nicest table, we say, though the ‘wallflower-table’ girls (that’s what we call the girls at the wall table) say they can see far farther over the garden than we can. All the same we sometimes get bees flying right in, and once a butterfly too.” Gerry stopped for breath.
“I love this table,” said Betty shyly.