“Oh, Mary, you darling!” they both cried at once, and embraced her until the tall girl was quite smothered.
“I knew you’d be down. I just told Dorothy.”
“How is every one?”
“Is Greenie in The Hermitage?”
“Is Miss Wallace back?”
“Where’s Anne?”
“Oh, let me go, please, a minute!” begged the tall girl, looking at Virginia. “I came down to meet a new girl. She must have come with you on your train. Wait and see her.”
“I told you she was coming to St. Helen’s,” Priscilla whispered to Dorothy, while the tall girl went up to Virginia.
“You’re Virginia Hunter, aren’t you?” they heard her say cordially, “from that wonderful Big Horn country I’ve heard so much about! Miss King couldn’t come down to-day, and the teachers in our cottage were away, so she sent me. I’m Mary Williams.” And she put out her hand, which Virginia grasped heartily.
“Oh,” she cried, her eyes shining, “aren’t you Jack Williams’ sister, and don’t you live in the Berkshires, and don’t you know Donald Keith. He’s my best friend. Oh, I do hope you’re the one!”