“How do you do?”
“How do you do?”
“So glad to see you.”
“So glad—”
“Very glad—”
The murmurs died into silence, while Dreda smiled a radiant encouragement.
“Quite well, thank you. But rather cold. May we poke the fire? My feet—”
She tapped expressively on the floor, whereupon Mary Webster poked discreetly at the fire and Susan, the youngest of the sisters, pushed a chair into the cosiest corner. The other three girls had come forward by this time, and introduced themselves in due form.
“How do you do? I’m Barbara Moore. It’s hateful to be a new girl!”
“How do you do? I’m Norah Grey. Sorry you’re cold.”