ison; but as time went on and she
grew more accustomed to the routine, she began to reverse her opinion.
After all, it was pleasant to have companionship. The various fresh
interests, the many jokes, amusements, and constant small excitements
inseparable from a large community of girls seemed to open out a new
phase of existence for her.

"I'd no idea what school was like before I came," she confided to
Janie. "Of course, the boys were always talking of the things they did,
and of the fagging and bullying and ragging that went on, but I was
sure they were piling on the horror for my benefit, and that it wasn't
really as bad as they pretended."

"Why, no one bullies at girls' schools," said Janie.

"I know they don't; but Derrick and Dermot stuffed me with all kinds of
ridiculous tales, just for the sake of teasing. They said that
Chessington was exactly on the model of a boys' college, and that if
girls learnt Latin and mathematics, and played cricket and hockey, and
had a gymnasium and a debating society, it put such a masculine element
into them that they couldn't refrain from using brute force, instead of
any other means of persuasion. They declared it was a natural sequence,
and I must make up my mind to it. Derrick even offered to teach me to
box before I came, as a useful accomplishment!"

"Did you accept?"

"No, thank you!--not after the way I'd seen him knock Brian about. I
suppose brothers are always teases."

"I've no experience, because I haven't any brothers. I've nobody except
Mother; but she's as good as a whole family combined." When Janie
mentioned her mother her eyes always shone, and her face would light
up. It was evident the two were everything to one another, and that the
separation during term-time was a hardship.

"I didn't want to go to school at all," continued Honor; "not, of
course, because I believed Derrick's absurd stories, but simply because
I was so fond of home that I hated to leave."

"That's just how I felt. Mother and I had such a delightful time
together, I was sure Chessington couldn't be half so nice."

"What used you to do? You've scarcely told me anything about your home,
though I often talk about Kilmore."

"We live in quite a quiet place," began Janie, "though it's not so
out-of-the-world as Kerry. Our house is at Redcliffe, a village a few
miles from Tewkesminster. It's a beautiful country. There are lovely
farms, with red-tiled roofs and big orchards and picturesq