"Oh, in some ways I have had a splendid time," said Christian.
"I am relieved to hear it, my love. To tell the truth, I have been a little anxious about you, Christian."
"Why?" asked Christian.
"Because your face has a strange expression—just as though you felt things too much."
"I am naughtier than most girls; that is why," said Christian.
"My dear child, let me assure you that you are nothing of the kind. I know a lot about girls, living here as I do. Even dear Lavinia can't see them as I do, for they are always on their best behavior with her, and they don't mind little Jessie in the very least. But now, dear, I came to your room on purpose to tell you that your real life here begins to-morrow. You will, like everyone else, have your hardships; you will also have your period of discipline, and I earnestly beg of you, Christian, not for the sake of a purely quixotic motive to get yourself into hot water by telling something which never happened in the school. In regard to this remember, my dear, it is your duty to be guided by the superior judgment of dear Lavinia Peacock."
Christian made no answer. Miss Jessie looked into her eyes.
"You are over-anxious, dear. I trust you will sleep. Is your fire all right? Ah! I see it is. I wish I could give you this little luxury every night, but it is against our rules. We have a fire once a week in each bedroom, just to keep it warm and aired, but that is all. Now I will put on two additional lumps of coal. You will be quite happy, dear. The great gong will wake you at seven o'clock to-morrow morning; you are expected to be down at half-past seven. At eight we have breakfast, and then prayers. You will soon know all the routine. And now, love, good-night."
Christian stood for a few minutes by the fire. It certainly was cheerful, and the little room snug. She felt that she might soon be happy at school. As to being interested, she had never felt so intensely interested before. The girls were so naïve, so fresh. Even those who terrified her aroused her interest. She did not like Susan Marsh, but even Susan had something fascinating about her. Then, as to Star, was anybody ever before so gay, so bright, so willful?
"And she was good to me," thought the child—"really good. She helped me when I was frightened. She showed me how I might take a proper place in the school. I love her already. I shall love her well. How strange it is that I should be supplied with a sort of bodyguard! Star and Lucy and Jane and Angela. I can't say that they did much for me while I was going through the initiation, but still they were there. I suppose they acted rightly in not making their presence too much felt. Star said they were to be a sort of invisible bodyguard, ready to help me in times of real difficulty and danger, but as a rule allowing me to get out of my own scrapes, when I don't absolutely require their assistance."