There was a slight rain falling, and two or three girls standing in a group raised their umbrellas, but they still stood beside the gates.
"She's quite the very prettiest girl I ever saw," cried Alice Tennant; "but of course we can have nothing to do with her. She entered a week ago. She doesn't pay any of the fees; she has no pretence to being a lady. Oh, here she comes! Did you ever see such a face?"
A slight, shabbily dressed little girl, with her satchel of books slung on her arm, now appeared. She looked to right and left of her as though she were slightly alarmed. Her face was beautiful in the truest sense of the world; it did not at all match with the shabby, faded clothes which she wore. She had large deep-violet eyes, jet-black hair, and a sweet, fresh complexion. Her expression was bewitching, and when she smiled a dimple came in her cheek.
"Look—look!" cried Mary Denny. "Isn't she all that I have said?"
"Yes, and more. What a pity we can't know her!" said Alice Tennant.
"But can't we? I really don't see why we should make the poor child miserable," said Mary Denny.
"It is not to be thought of. We must worship the
beautiful new star from afar. Perhaps she will do something to raise herself into our set; but as it is, she must go with Kate Rourke and Hannah Johnson and Clara Sawyer, and all the rest of the foundationers."
"Well, we have seen her now," said Mary, "so I suppose we needn't stand talking about her any longer. Will you come home and have tea with me, Alice? Mother said I might ask you."
"I wish I could come," said Alice; "but we are expecting Kathleen."