n the corridor, gave the
newcomer into her charge with instructions to take her straight to the
senior recreation room.

"Our afternoon classes begin at 2.30," she remarked, "but you will have
just ten minutes in which to be introduced to some of your
schoolfellows. Elsie Craig will show you everything."

Elsie made no remark to Irene--perhaps she was shy--but, starting off at
a quick pace, led her down a long passage into a room on the ground
floor. It was a pleasant room with a French window that opened out on to
a veranda, where, over a marble balustrade, there was a view of an
orange garden and the sea. Round a table were collected several older
girls, watching with deep interest a kettle, which was beginning to
sing, upon a spirit-lamp. They looked up with surprise as Elsie ushered
in the new pupil.

"Hello! You don't mean to tell us there's another of them!" exclaimed a
dark girl with a long pigtail. "We've had two already! Why are they
pouring on us to-day, I should like to know? It's a perfect deluge."

"I hate folks butting in when the term has begun," said another
grumpily.

"We shall be swamped with 'freshies' soon," grunted the owner of the
spirit-lamp. "If they expect coffee I tell them beforehand they just
won't get it."

"She says her name's Irene Beverley," volunteered Elsie Craig, in a
perfunctory voice, as if she were performing an obvious duty and getting
it over.

"Oh, indeed!"

"Well, now we know, so there's an end of it."

It could hardly be called a flattering reception. The general attitude
of the girls was the reverse of friendly. The kettle was suddenly
boiling, and they were concentrating their attention upon the making of
the coffee, and rather ostentatiously leaving the stranger outside the
charmed circle. Irene, used to school life, knew, however, that she was
on trial, and that on her present behavior would probably depend the
whole of her future career. She did not attempt to force her unwelcome
presence upon her companions, but, withdrawing to the window, pretended
to be utterly absorbed in contemplation of the scenery. She kept the
corner of her eye, nevertheless, upon the group at the table. The girl
with the long pigtail had made the coffee and was pouring it into cups.
A shorter girl nudged her and whispered something, at which she shook
her head emphatically. But the short girl persisted.

"I'm superstitious," affirmed the latter aloud. "One's for sorrow, two's
for joy