Thanks to her mother’s excellent training, Leslie was a proficient in the art of stowing away things in small spaces; and before the gong for dinner sounded she had put all her belongings away, had arranged the screen round her washhand-stand, and had even brought out much-loved photographs of her mother and her brother Llewellyn to ornament the top of her chest of drawers. These gave a home look to the room, and she glanced at them with satisfaction. Her bedstead, turned into a sofa by day by means of a crimson rug, was now tidy and in order, and Leslie sat down on the edge of it waiting for Annie Colchester to stir.
The second gong pealed through the house, and Annie suddenly started to her feet.
“Good gracious! Oh, I forgot all about you. What is your name?”
“Leslie Gilroy.”
“Leslie Gilroy, please tell me if that is the first or second gong?”
“The second,” replied Leslie.
“And who are you?” continued Annie Colchester, gazing in a sort of vacant way at her roomfellow.
“The girl who has come to share your room.”
“And you have put all your things away and made no noise? Excellent! Did you say that that was the second gong, Miss——”
“Leslie Gilroy is my name.”