She made up her mind not to look at them and kept steadily looking at her book. But the pictures had lost their charm. Her little soul revolted against the treatment to which she was being subjected by these two little girls.
When the time for recreation arrived, Miss Euston took Adèle by the hand and led her up to two other girls; one about Adèle's age, the other two years older. She told them to take care of their new and future companion. She was sure, she added, that they would make things pleasant for her. "Yes, ma'am,—come," they said to their new acquaintance. They led her out of the schoolroom and amused her during the whole time that was set apart for recreation purposes. By the time the bell rang for the pupils to form classes, the three little girls were as friendly as could be. Adèle forgot all about the little girls that had laughed at her.
Later on in the evening, she discovered that her two little companions were the only boarders beside herself.
The day after her entrance, an event occurred which deserves perhaps to be narrated.
Adèle walked alone down the Grange, turned to the right, and not knowing where she was going, found herself in a lane called George Street.
She was busily engaged contemplating a poor little crippled girl, when the latter's crutch slipped and she fell prone on the road.
She got up quickly, however, seized her crutch and looked anxiously round to see if someone had perceived her.
Adèle stood near, smiling.
The girl in rags went up to her. "What'r'yer laughin' at, yer dressed up doll?" she said. (Adèle had one of her new dresses on.) "If you don't stop it," she continued threateningly, "I'll give yer such a bloomin' smack as 'l' make you think you're in the beginnin' o' next week."