“Do we have supper before that lecture? and should I dress before the supper?”
“Huh! There’ll be no supper for you nor me this night! And I’m just ravenous hungry! Why was I such a fool as to dance that jig instead of eating that pudding and beans? Yorkshire pudding’s just delicious, if it’s made right, and the Dame’s looked better even than our chef’s. If one could only look ahead in this world, how wise one would be, ’specially in the matter of suppers! Well, good-by, Queenie, with aching heart from you I part; when shall we meet again? Ah! me! When?”
With a gesture of despair, half-comical, half-serious, the older girl dashed down the corridor and Dorothy turned slowly toward her own little room. There she found her luggage unpacked, her frocks and shoes neatly arranged in the wardrobe, underclothing in the small bureau, her toilet things on the tiny dressing table, and the fresh suit she had been asked to put on spread out upon the bed.
It was all very cosy and comfortable, or would have been if she hadn’t been so hungry. However, she had hardly begun undressing before Dawkins appeared with a small tray of sandwiches and milk, explaining:
“Supper’s long past, Miss Dorothy, but the Principal bade me bring this. Also, if there’s time before lecture, you are to go to her private parlor to speak with her. I’ll help you and ’twill make the time seem shorter.”
“Thank you, Dawkins, that’s sweet and kind of you; but—but I don’t feel any great hurry about dressing. Maybe Miss Tross-Kingdon’ll be better-natured—I mean not so cross—Oh! dear, you know what I mean, don’t you, dear Dawkins?”
“Sure, lassie, I know you have a deal more fear of the Lady Principal ’an you need. She’s that just kind of a person one can always trust.”
“I reckon I don’t like ‘just’ people. I like ’em real plain kind. I—I don’t like to be found fault with.”
“Few folks do so like; especially them as deserves it. But you will love Miss Muriel better ’an anybody at Oak Knowe afore the year’s out. Only them that has lived with her knows her. I do know. A better woman never trod shoe leather, and so you’ll find. Now, you’ve no time to waste.”
Nor was any wasted, though Dorothy would gladly have postponed the Principal’s further acquaintance till another day. She found the lady waiting and herself welcomed by a gracious word and smile. Motioning to a low seat beside her own chair, Miss Muriel began: