“You have heard of the Specialities, haven’t you?” said Fanny.
“Good gracious, no!” exclaimed Betty. “The Specialities—what are they?”
“There is nothing what about them. They are people—girls; they are not things.”
“Oh, girls! What a funny name to give girls! I haven’t heard of them, Fanny.”
“You won’t be long at Haddo Court without hearing a great deal about them,” remarked Fanny. “I am one, and so is Susie Rushworth, and so are the Bertrams, and so is that handsome girl Margaret Grant. You must have noticed her; she is so dark and tall and stately. And so, also, is dear little Olive Repton——”
“And so is—and so is—and so is—” laughed Betty, putting on her most quizzical manner.
“You must listen to me. The Specialities—oh, they’re not like any other girls in the school, and it’s the greatest honor in the world to be asked to belong to them. Betty, it’s this way. Margaret Grant is the sort of captain of the club—I don’t know how to express it exactly; but she is our head, our chief—and she has taken a fancy to you; and last night we had a meeting in my bedroom——”
“Oh, that was what the row was about!” exclaimed Betty. “If we hadn’t been hearty sleepers and girls straight from the Scotch moors, you would have given us a very bad night.”
“Never mind about that. Margaret Grant proposed last night that you should be asked to join.”
“I asked to join?”