Just as the two girls were about to ascend the stairs they met Eileen and Marjorie, who, arm in arm, were looking at the regulation board. As soon as they saw Leslie they turned to speak to her.
“I hope you are comfortable, Miss Gilroy?” said Marjorie. “We are—very.”
“Please introduce me, Miss Gilroy,” said Jane Heriot, touching Leslie on her sleeve.
Leslie did what was required.
“You don’t know anybody here yet, do you?” asked Jane, turning to Eileen.
“No,” replied Eileen; “one or two girls spoke to us at dinner, but——”
“In that case you had better come and join my party,” said Jane. “The girls will call on you to-morrow evening, so you must be at home; but they will not do so to-night, as it is the first night of term. Do come, both of you. Miss Gilroy is coming, and we shall make quite a cozy party.”
Eileen and Marjorie said they would be delighted to comply, and the girls went upstairs side by side. Leslie went to her own room, secured the key, slipped it into her pocket, and joined the rest on the threshold of Jane’s room.
Jane Heriot happened to have one of the prettiest and most tastefully arranged rooms in North Hall. It was
a corner room, and had queer little nooks and crannies in all sorts of unexpected places. It was papered with a very artistic paper, and had a deep dado, which Jane herself had painted, with a running pattern of wild flowers and birds. Some good photogravures of pictures by Burne-Jones and Watts hung upon the walls, the curtains were of Liberty silk, the floor was covered with a self-colored drugget, the bed was turned into a tastefully arranged sofa and the chest of drawers was rendered unique and graceful by a piano cloth concealing its back. The screen which hid the washing apparatus was a Liberty one, and very pretty. A bright little fire burned in the grate, which was agreeable, as the evening was somewhat chilly. One of the windows stood slightly open, and the room was full of fresh air without draught.