“Yes, Miss Slater,” said the head girl. Then a scrap of a child, who seemed all pigtail, ran forward to hold the door, and to shut it as the head mistress withdrew. As it closed the uproar of merry voices broke out again with redoubled vigour.
“And she’s been practising strokes all the hols.,” announced someone from the fireplace.
“We went to the meet on our bicycles twice,” screamed a shrill voice from the corner.
“I say, has anyone read ‘The Trail’? It’s the most ripping book. It’s simply thrilling, and my brother says——” declared someone else in piercing tones that broke off suddenly as the speaker flew to answer some question addressed to her by the head girl.
Gretta almost gasped. The room seemed full of voices and swinging legs, and pigtails that varied only in length and thickness. She wondered what was going to happen next.
“Do you like scrambled eggs?” said a voice in her ear solicitously.
She turned suddenly, and almost jumped at the unexpectedness of the question. Beside her was a short girl of about her own age, whose curly hair was strained back into the inevitable plait, and whose face would have looked exceedingly demure had it not been for the expression in the eyes which was suggestive of hidden depths of mischief.
“I’m Josy,” said the new-comer, “or Josephine Mary Pope, if you like that better. Isn’t it a name to have! Helen’s taken your cousin over to Stella, and I thought you looked a bit bored, so I just came. Are you awfully clever? You look it. But for goodness’ sake don’t tell me that you’ll want to bring lesson-books up to our dormer. For one thing I’m head this term, and it’s not allowed; and, for another, it’s such silly swank!”
Gretta’s breath was fairly taken away. She had understood enough of the speech, however, to realize that she mustn’t be branded for ever as “clever,” when she knew herself unable to live up to the character. “I’m not a bit clever; I’m perfectly stupid,” she hastened to reply as emphatically as she could. “Margot is, I expect, though. And I don’t really know about Sybil—you see, she’s my sister.”
“Is that funny new kid, Sybil, your sister!” inquired the stranger in an amused tone. “I must say she’s not like you. She’s not shy, whatever she is. Look at her!”