some of
these foreign girls do. Remember we're plain, wholesome, straightforward
Anglo-Saxons, who play games and say what we mean, and call a spade a
spade and have done with it. Whatever Italian friends you may make
during the holidays please forget them during term-time, and try and
imagine that the Villa Camellia stands in Kent or Massachusetts. Do you
understand my drift now?"

"Oh, yes!" sighed Mabel languidly. "Anglo-American patriotism,
crystallized in a nutshell, I suppose! _I'm_ not going to offend your
prejudices, I'm sure!"

"You'd better not, or you'll hear about it," said Rachel, looking at her
sharply. "Well, girls, that's the wind-up. The three freshies are
admitted and you've witnessed their vows. Just jolly well take care they
keep them, that's all. Juniors are due now at netball practice, and any
seniors who want the tennis courts----"

But Rachel's sentence went unfinished for her listeners were tired of
sitting still, and the second they found themselves dismissed had jumped
up and fled from the room.

"Now that that ordeal's over I guess you may smooth out the kinks in
your forehead, honey!" said a serene voice at Irene's elbow.

Turning quickly she saw the short girl who had braved Rachel's possible
wrath and had offered her coffee on her arrival. It was a pleasant face
that gazed into hers, not exactly beautiful, but with a charm that
eclipsed all mere ordinary prettiness; the sparkling gray eyes were
dark-fringed, the cheeks were like wild roses under their freckles, the
tip-tilted little nose held an element of audacious sauciness, and
dimples lay at the corners of the wide, smiling mouth.

"I'm Priscilla Proctor, called Peachy for short. Oh, yes, I knew all
about you beforehand, although you happen to be the newest girl. Dad
wrote me a whole page--wonderful for him!--and said he'd stayed at your
house in London, and I was to tack myself on to you and show you round,
and see you didn't fret and all the rest of it. Are you wanting a crony,
temporary or otherwise? Then here I am at your service. Link an arm and
we'll parade the place. I guess by the time we've finished there's not
much you won't know about the Villa Camellia."

"Have you been here long?" asked Irene, accepting the proffered arm with
alacrity, and submitting to be led away by her cicerone.

"Just a year. Cried myself to a puddle when I first came, but I like it
now. I didn't realize who you were when you first arrived, o