“I am sorry if I appeared rude,” she said; “I did not think of it.”
“You will be forgiven this time; but”—looking serious—“I hope you have not a headache; if so, I shall be sorry I brought you down.”
“Oh, no, thank you! I am quite well. I often go up earlier than the others.”
“Well, I sha’n’t keep you down long, for I am going to bed myself. I shall go up with you now and try if I can find my cubicle again.”
Calling good-night to the others, Gwendoline slipped her arm through Linnæa’s, and the two walked away in the direction of the stairs.
“How strange it is, coming in amongst a lot of girls one has never seen before! It is fortunate for me I am not shy, else, I suppose, I should feel dreadfully put out. How long have you been here?”
“Seven years.”
“Seven years! Such a long time to be away from home!”
“My father and mother are out in India. I shall go there when I am finished with school.”
“Oh, how splendid! I should love to go to India. I have a brother who went out last year, and when I leave school I mean to pay him a visit. Perhaps we may happen to go together. Wouldn’t that be nice? Is this your cubicle? Horrid, bare places, aren’t they? I was warned about it and brought some pictures and things with me; but I sha’n’t unpack them to-night—I am too sleepy. Shall we say good-night, then? I somehow think we shall be friends.”