“I don’t understand you,” said Hester, who would not hold out her hand, and who was standing up in a very stiff, shy, and angular position. “I think you were very rude to startle me, and make personal remarks the very moment I came into the house.”
“Oh, dear!—I only said you were tall, and looked rather sulky, love—you did, you know, really.”
“It was very rude of you,” repeated Hester, turning crimson, and trying to keep back her tears.
“Well, my dear, I meant no harm; shake hands, now, and let us make friends.”
But Hester felt either too shy or too miserable to yield to this request—she half turned her back, and leaned against Miss Temple’s panel.
“Never mind her,” whispered gentle Cecil Temple; but Annie Forest’s bright face had darkened ominously—the school favourite was not accustomed to having her advances flung back in her face. She left the room singing a defiant, naughty song, and several of the girls who had overheard this scene whispered one to the other—
“She can’t be at all nice—she would not even shake hands with Annie. Fancy her turning against our Annie in that way!”