Mary Parsons. "Not very easy to take a rise out of her, I should think."
"Awfully pretty, I call her," responded Joyce Adamson. "Those big red bows are immense in more ways than one."
"She's not the sort to play second fiddle evidently," grumbled Maude Helm a trifle enviously. "New girls oughtn't to have such cheek, in my opinion. When I was new"
"Oh, yes! We all remember how you stood looking black thunders, and no one could drag a single word out of you, not even your name! Can't see where the sense came in! I like a girl with plenty to say for herself."
"This one's got enough, at any rate!" snapped Maude. "She talks away like a Cheap-Jack. Now if I were"
"Hold your tongue, can't you? I want to hear what she's saying."
"What Form's she in?"
"I believe Poppie's put her in the Upper Fourth."
"Hush! Here's Poppie herself!"
As the Principal stepped upon the platform and rang the bell, the girls hastily scurried to their seats, deferring further catechism of their new schoolfellow till eleven o'clock. Gipsy's name had been placed on the roll call of the Upper Fourth, so as a member of the Lower School she marched in the long line that filed from the lecture hall to the right-hand wing of the house. The preliminary part of her ordeal might be considered successfully over. Schoolgirls are quick
