the blue blouse; she's talking to Lorna
Hallam, and Agnes Maxwell is showing her camera to them both. Now, if
you'll look through the window you'll see two girls walking arm in arm
round the sundial; the fair one is Dora Maxwell, and the dark one is
Myfanwy James. Dora is tremendously jolly; she and Myfanwy think of the
most outlandish things to do. Why, one night they went to bed right
underneath their bottom sheets, and put their pillows over their faces,
and when Freda Martin (that's our prefect) came to turn out the lights
she thought they weren't there at all, and was just going to make a
tremendous fuss, when Myfanwy couldn't stand it any longer, and
exploded! We six are in the same dormitory, and we're the greatest
chums. We call ourselves 'The Clan', and each is pledged to back the
others up through thick and thin, whatever happens."

"Who's the seventh girl in the class?"

"Mabel Farrington."

"And doesn't she belong to 'The Clan'?"

"Oh, no! Mabel wouldn't dream of such a thing."

"Why not?"

"Oh! because--well, she's rather particular. She's not very great
friends with anybody."

"Don't you like her?"

"Like her? Yes; everybody likes Mabel. That's not the reason at all.
Somehow she's a little different from other people. You see, her
grandfather is Bishop of Holcombe, and her uncle is Lord Ribchester."

"You mean, she gives herself airs?"

"Not in the least; she's not at all conceited. But she never cares about
playing tricks, and having all kinds of jokes, like the rest of us."

"Then she's a prig!"

"No, she isn't. Wait till you've seen her; she's extremely nice. As I
said before, she always seems different--just a trifle above everyone
else, perhaps."

"Which dormitory is she in?"

"She's allowed a bedroom to herself, and she's the only girl in the
school who has one--even the monitresses have to sleep in cubicles."

"Why is she so specially privileged?"

"Her mother, Lady Muriel Farrington, is a friend of Miss Drummond's. I
believe Mabel was sent here rather as a favour, because Miss Drummond
was so anxious to have her at The Grange."

"Then you all make a fuss over her?"

"No, not particularly; but we certainly like her."

"I'm sure I shan't."

"You can't help it, when you know her. By the way, here she is now,
coming in at the door. I must tell her who you are."

Aldred turned, and saw a girl of her own age, so remarkably pretty and
attractive that, in spite of her preconcei