“Well, girls,” said Mrs. Vincent, smiling patronizingly upon them, “how are you all? Glad to get back?” Without waiting for a reply, she went on: “You’ll find some changes here this fall. Clarice,” laying her hand on the girl’s arm, “is to be down here with us in No. 4. We also have a new member of our household, Miss Patricia Randall,” crossing the hall to shake hands with Patricia. “I do hope you’ll like us all, and be happy here.” Then she continued, without stopping for Patricia’s reply, “We’re to have a new maid—”
“Oh, where is Lizzie?” asked Jane.
“She got married this summer,” replied Mrs. Vincent; “and, my dears, you should have seen the beautiful presents she received! Our new maid’s name is Rhoda Hurd, and the Dean says she comes highly recommended. She’ll be here some time tonight. You had better all unpack now, and get ready for dinner. Arnold Hall girls will take the southwest end of the dining room, as usual. Come, Miss Randall, I’ll show you your room. Of course it looks rather bare now,” she added, when they stood on the threshold, “but you’ll soon change all that. My room is No. 1, right back of the reception room. If you want anything, don’t hesitate to come to me.”
When Patricia found herself alone, her glance traveled from the day beds on either side of the room to the two dressers flanking the doorway and to the writing tables in the big bay window. In spite of its bare floor and curtainless windows, the room had distinct possibilities; for the furniture was Early American, and the woodwork was good.
“Why,” she demanded of Anne, who came in at that moment, “do they have that heavy barred wire outside of the windows? It reminds me of a prison, or makes me feel as if I were in a cage.”
“It is, a sort of a prison,” laughed Anne. “You see, some of the girls like to stay out later than 10:30, and if it were possible to climb in the windows, nobody knows what time they would come in. The Black Book wouldn’t be of any use then.”
Patricia looked puzzled. “The ‘Black Book?’” she repeated.
“Yes; beside the telephone booth in the front hall, near Dolly’s room, is a table upon which rests a big, black blank book. Whenever you go out or come in after dinner, you must register in it your name and the hour. The girls take turns looking after it, and at bed time, Dolly inspects it before she makes the round of the rooms. And, by the way, whenever the outside door at the back of the hall is opened, it rings a bell in Dolly’s room, right under the bed. So you see how good your chances are of staying out nights.”
“Tell me something about Clarice,” begged Patricia, sitting down on one of the beds. “Why do all the girls dislike her so very much?”
“They don’t really dislike her,” replied Anne, plumping down beside Patricia. “She’s lots of fun, and generous to a fault; but she has such a loud laugh, and doesn’t care what she does or says. A good time appeals to her a whole lot more than does study, and last year she played around too much with a boy upon whom the authorities frowned. The girls on this floor have always been so congenial, and have had no demerits for conduct; so naturally they rather resent the introduction of Clarice. I think, though, that there is really a lot of good in the girl, if one could only develop it. Let’s go down the hall and see if Kath has a dress you could wear to dinner. Mine would be too large for you.”