with everyone, she had
made no bosom friend, and, as Ursula had said, kept slightly aloof from
the other girls in the form.

Aldred also found herself rather left out; "the clan" of six were so
thoroughly absorbed in their own interests, so taken up with various
amusements, secrets, and private jokes that could not be shared by
anyone who did not sleep in their dormitory, that it was impossible for
them to include her in their fun.

They were not unkind to her, but they simply took no notice of her; and
as the Fifth Form girls in No. 2 dormitory were equally stand-off,
Aldred's first week at The Grange was a very lonely one.

It was an unpleasant and unwelcome experience for her; she had come to
school full of confidence that she would win immediate favour, and it
was humiliating to find herself not appreciated as she had expected.

After her first catechism by Ursula no one had exhibited further
curiosity about her home or her family; and any information which she
volunteered was received without enthusiasm. It was plain that "The
Clan" thought her of small consequence, and did not trouble to cultivate
her acquaintance.

Aldred was not used to being overlooked; she felt both indignant and
offended at this neglect. She almost wished she had never left home, or,
at any rate, that she had been sent to some other school than The
Grange.

"If I can't make them like me, I shall never be happy here," she said to
herself. "They're a stupid set! Well, if I don't get along any better
than this, I shall ask Father to take me away, and send me to Oakdene
with the Ropers. They always admire me; Doris writes two letters to my
one, and Sibyl fights with Daisy to sit next to me at tea!"

It is generally the unexpected that happens. Aldred had nearly made up
her mind that she would never be popular with the Fourth Form, and would
be obliged to remain a permanent outsider, when quite suddenly the whole
aspect of affairs was altered.

The change arose from a most unanticipated quarter. One day Mabel
Farrington came up to Aldred with an unusual warmth of manner, and an
evidently newly awakened interest.

"By the by, Aldred, do you happen to live at Watersham?" she began.

"At Dingfield. It's really a part of Watersham, only the river runs
between," replied Aldred, rather astonished at the question, for no one
had seemed to care to hear about her home before.

"And were you staying at Seaforth in June?"

"Yes; we had rooms o