"What was the use of having a library at all?" asked Florry.
"I don't know. I suppose to be looked at by visitors, and give a character to the school."
In the afternoon recess, Florry went down to meet her old school-mates in the little girls' playground, and was surprised by the reception she met with. A good many of the girls greeted her coldly, or not at all, and cast significant or contemptuous looks at each other; while others met her with more warmth and affection than ever. Among these last were Jenny Fleming and Emily Dean. Jenny ran to meet Florry, and kissed her on both cheeks; while Emily, who was less impulsive, put her arm through Florry's with a certain air of protection; casting, meantime, a glance of defiance at Priscilla and Tilly, who stood at a little distance.
"I should think you would be ashamed, Jenny," said Tilly. "What do you think your mother would say?"
"And I should think you would be ashamed; and so you will, Tilly Mansfield," retorted Jenny. "Very fine you will look, and a fine slice of humble-pie you will have to eat, when the truth comes out."
Tilly only tossed her head, as usual, and turned away to whisper anew with some of the other girls.
"What do they mean?" asked Florry, looking from one to the other, and quite bewildered by this reception. "Why do they treat me so?"
"Because they are just a set of dunces," returned Jenny.
"Because Tilly Mansfield has been telling stories about you," said Emily.
"There, Emily: we promised we would not tell."