"What's your names?"
The Prescotts gave her the information, and she told them in exchange that her name was Maizie Forrest, that she was from Pittsburgh, that she had a brother at Yale, and another at Pomfret, and that she thought it no end of fun that they, the Prescotts, were going to Miss Leland's. After this flow of confidence, conversation languished and expired in the silence of dismal thoughts.
The hack drove up to the door, and deposited the four girls on the steps. Then they entered the hall, from which was issuing a perfect babel of feminine squeaks and chattering.
As Nancy and Alma stood together, frankly clinging hand to hand, a husky damsel rushed past them and precipitated herself on the neck and shoulders of the conversational Maizie.
"Maizie, darling!"
"Jane, dearest! When did you get here?"
"Been here hours. My dear, we're going to room together! Isn't that scrumptious?"
"Perfectly divine. Where's Alice?"
"Hasn't come yet. Come on, let's go see M'amzelle."
The small, weepy girl stood still gazing mournfully at the rapturous meetings about her.