But while Louise was speaking, Jacquette had suddenly recognised a girl who had spent the summer with an aunt in Brookdale, a few years earlier.
“Margaret Howland!” she cried, darting forward and catching her by the arm.
“Jacquette Willard! Where did you drop down from?”
Jacquette wondered, as she explained, at the curious expression which crossed Margaret’s face. “I never dreamed you went to this school,” Jacquette finished. “I was going to look you up the first chance I had, but now we’ll see each other every day. Isn’t it splendid?”
“Yes, I’m awfully glad to see you, but——” Margaret hesitated.
“‘But,’ you’re so big you can’t play with a little freshy?”
“No, indeed! But I’m afraid, if Quis Granville is your cousin——”
“Jack!” a surprised voice interrupted, and, turning, Jacquette found Quis looking down at her in unmistakable disapproval. “Good morning, Miss Howland,” he added, lifting his cap to Margaret. “Excuse my cousin, will you? Some of the girls want her.”
It was done in a twinkling. Margaret was swallowed up in the bevy of girls who had gathered about while she talked with Jacquette, and Marquis carried off his cousin in gleeful triumph.
“What in the world!” he began, as soon as they were out of earshot. “How did she ever get you?”