"Oh, that doesn't make any difference. I've hardly thought about her."
"But aren't you just a little curious?" continued the questioner, a pretty girl with dark hair.
"No, Nora, I'm not. She's sixteen and a half—almost a year older than we are. She's never lived in a big city, and that's enough."
"Oh, a country girl?"
"I don't know that she's a country girl exactly, but I just wish she wasn't coming. She'll spoil all our fun."
"How?" asked a third girl, seated on the bottom step.
"Why, who ever heard of five girls going about together? If three's a crowd, five's a perfect regiment. I agree with Brenda that it's too bad to have her come. Now when there's four of us we can pair off and have a good time."
The last speaker had a long thin face with a determined mouth and large china blue eyes. She was the only one of the four whom the average observer would not call pretty. Yet in her little circle she had her own way more often even than Brenda, who was not only somewhat of a tyrant, but a beauty as well.
"Brenda and Belle
They carry a spell,"
the other girls were in the habit of singing, when the two Bs had accomplished something on which they had set their hearts. Edith, the third of the group, in spite of her auburn hair, was the most amiable of the four. I say "in spite" out of respect merely to the popular prejudice. Nobody has ever proved that auburn hair really indicates worse temper than hair of any other color. Edith almost always agreed with any of the plans made by the others, and very often with their opinions. Dark-haired Nora was the only one of the group who ever ventured to dissent from the two Bs. Now she spoke up briskly,