Miss Drummond did manage to get into her garments; but her whole appearance was so heavy and untidy when she was dressed, that Hester by the very force of contrast felt obliged to take extra pains with her own toilet.
“Now, that’s a comfort,” said Susan, “I’m in my clothes. How bitter it is! There’s one comfort, the chapel will be warm. I often catch forty winks in chapel—that is, if I’m lucky enough to get behind one of the tall girls, where Mrs Willis won’t see me. It does seem to me,” continued Susan in a meditative tone, “the strangest thing why girls are not allowed sleep enough.”
Hester was pinning a clean collar round her neck when Miss Drummond came up close, leaned over the dressing-table, and regarded her with languid curiosity.
“A penny for your thoughts. Miss Prunes and Prism.”
“Why do you call me that?” said Hester angrily.
“Because you look like it, sweet. Now, don’t be cross, little pet—no one ever yet was cross with sleepy Susy Drummond. Now, tell me, love, what had you for breakfast yesterday?”
“I’m sure I forget,” said Hester.
“You forget?—how extraordinary! You’re sure that it was not buttered scones? We have them sometimes, and I tell you they are enough even to keep a girl awake. Well, at least you can let me know if the eggs were very stale, and the coffee very weak, and whether the butter was second-rate Dorset, or good and fresh. Come now—my breakfast is of immense importance to me, I assure you.”
“I dare say,” answered Hester. “You can see for yourself this morning what is on the table—I can only inform you that it was good enough for me, and that I don’t remember what it was.”
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Susan Drummond, “I’m afraid she has a little temper of her own—poor little room-mate. I wonder if chocolate-creams would sweeten that little temper?”