“Oh, it’s my saddle here already!” cried Virginia. “It is a huge box, isn’t it?”
“Your—what?” asked the amazed Priscilla, and listened open-mouthed while Virginia explained, and told her about Jim and the others. So interested did she become that before they realized it, the supper-bell had rung, and found them sitting side by side on the big box, friends already.
“I never heard anything so interesting in all my life,” exclaimed Priscilla, as they searched for hairbrushes and towels among their confused luggage. “And will you really teach me to ride?”
“Why, of course, I will. You’ll love it! Oh, I’m sorry to be late the very first night!”
“That’s the best time of all, because they expect it then. Besides, Miss Green’s dining out, and Miss Wallace—you’ll love her!—took Lucile Du Bose to town to see the oculist. Mary’s in charge tonight, and she’ll excuse us.”
“Is Mary part teacher?” Virginia asked, puzzled.
No, not that exactly, Priscilla explained; but each year the girls of the different cottages elected one of their number who would be a Senior the next year to be a kind of cottage monitor, to take charge of the table and study hours when the teachers were out.
It was an honor to be elected, because it meant that the girls considered you trustworthy; and every one at St. Helen’s knew and trusted Mary Williams.
Virginia admired Mary more than ever. It must be wonderful, she thought as she tied her hair-ribbon and searched for a clean handkerchief, to be trusted by every one in school. Could they say that of her when she became a Senior?
“What are you, Priscilla?” she asked as they went down-stairs.