I can clearly remember most of that day. I have a vision of a long dining-table, long at least it seemed to me, and a plateful of roast mutton and potatoes which I could not manage to finish, followed by rice pudding with which I succeeded better, though I was not the least hungry. Miss Aspinall was at one end of the table, Miss Broom at the other, and Miss Fenmore, who seemed always to be jumping up to ring the bell or hand the governesses something or other that had been forgotten by the servant, sat somewhere in the middle.
No one spoke unless spoken to by one of the teachers. Miss Aspinall shot out little remarks from time to time about the weather, and replied graciously enough to one or two of the older girls who ventured to ask if Miss Ledbury's cold, or headache, was better.
Then came the grace, followed by a shoving back of forms, and a march in order of age, or place in class rather, to the door, and thence down the passage to what was called the big schoolroom—a room on the ground floor, placed where by rights the kitchen should have been, I fancy. It was the only large room in the house, and I think it must have been built out beyond the original walls on purpose.
And then—there re-echo on my ears even now the sudden bursting out of noise, the loosening of a score and a half of tongues, girls' tongues too, forcibly restrained since the morning. For this was the recreation hour, and on a wet day, to make up for not going a walk, the "young ladies" were allowed from two to three to chatter as much as they liked—in English instead of in the fearful and wonderful jargon yclept "French."
I stood in a corner by myself, staring, no doubt. I felt profoundly interested. This was a little more like what I had pictured to myself, though I had not imagined it would be quite so noisy and bewildering. But some of the girls seemed very merry, and their laughter and chatter fascinated me—if only I were one of them, able to laugh and chatter too! Should I ever be admitted to share their fun?
The elder girls did not interest me. They seemed to me quite grown-up. Yet it was from their ranks that came the first token of interest in me—of notice that I was there at all.
"What's your name?" said a tall thin girl with fair curls, which one could see she was very proud of. She was considered a beauty in the school. She was silly, but very good-natured. She spoke with a sort of lisp, and very slowly, so her question did not strike me as rude. Nor was it meant to be so. It was a mixture of curiosity and amiability.
"My name," I repeated, rather stupidly. I was startled by being spoken to.
"Yes, your name. Didn't Miss Lardner say what's your name? Dear me—don't stand gaping there like a monkey on a barrel-organ," said another girl.
By this time a little group had gathered round me. The girls composing it all laughed, and though it does not sound very witty—to begin with, I never heard of a monkey "gaping"—I have often thought since that there was some excuse for the laughter. I was small and thin, and I had a trick of screwing up my eyes which made them look smaller than they really were. And my frock was crimson merino with several rows of black velvet above the hem of the skirt.