At this, Eloise took out her handkerchief, and turned her face aside a little as if to wipe away an imaginary tear. Helen thrust her hands into her jacket pocket and assumed an expression of stony woe.
“You mischievous girls!” exclaimed Betty’s mother. “I hope that you will have a good time, but don’t forget what you are here for.”
Nobody of this happy company noticed a sober little face and lonely little figure at the far end of the long stone bench with its quaint carvings. “My, what a pretty mother,” she was thinking. “I did not know mothers were like that. My mother had a sweet face, though,” and she opened the small bag which she was carrying and drew out a picture. “Where am I, anyhow? I guess I might as well go back. That plump, homey looking girl is from a ranch, though; I guess it’s a nice one, not like ours. I suppose it can’t be worse here than at home. I’d like to stick it out, but I don’t suppose the girls will have anything to do with me. Look at my clothes!—beside of theirs! I knew my skirt was being made all crooked, and this hideous waist,—I wish I never had anything to say about my clothes. Ugly old heavy shoes to match the rest. But then dear old father did not know that they were awful.” The little girl sat thoughtfully a little longer, then slipped into the building and to her room. First she tipped the mirror in order to get a full length view of herself. “Yes, I said I wouldn’t care for anything if I could only get away. But look at me! Freckles, sandy pig-tails, turn-up nose, collar bones sticking out and red hands. You’re just about the limit, you are,” said she to her image in the glass. “Well, I’m not going to cry about it, not now, anyhow. It’s too near meal time. I’m glad I haven’t any roommate yet. I guess Miss Randolph would hate to put any girl like those girls in with me.”
Sturdy little soul that she was, this thought was too much. Possibly no more unhappy child had come to Greycliff this year. Dropping into a chair she sobbed aloud, not knowing that her door had come unlatched and stood ajar. Hilary and Lilian, passing, heard her and stopped short.
“Somebody’s homesick,” said Hilary.
“Shall we go in?” asked Lilian.
“Maybe she wouldn’t want us to, but it’s heathenish not to pay any attention. You try it all alone, Lil.”
“All right.” Lilian pushed the door open a little wider and rattled the knob as she did so. “Would you hate to have me come in a minute? I’m awfully sorry for whatever is the matter. We all have our turn at being homesick, though, so I thought I’d see if I couldn’t cheer you up. Could I? I’m Lilian North and an ‘old girl,’ you know, so I’m not homesick this year.”
By this time the weeping one had wiped her eyes, taken several long breaths and was able to answer. “Come right in.... I’m ... M—Margaret Hope, and just came today.” Lilian’s suggestion about the common malady of homesickness was fortunate. And what was Margaret’s surprise to see one of the admired girls whom she had first seen so short a time ago on the porch.
Meanwhile Hilary had waited a few moments, observed the cessation of sobs, heard conversation begin, and with a smile had withdrawn, going to see about baggage and several other matters and finally joining the other girls.