e place just at first, because it's so different
from what they've been used to. But by the end of the term they're so in
love with Warwick Hall and everything about it that nothing could induce
them to change schools. There's only one girl I ever heard of who didn't
like it."

"And why didn't she?" asked Lloyd and Allison, in the same breath.

"Well, she came from some ranch away out West, Wyoming or Nevada or some
of those places, where she'd been as free and easy as a squaw, and she
couldn't stand so much civilization. You see, from the minute you enter
Warwick Hall you feel somehow that you're a guest of Madam Chartley's
instead of a pupil. She uses the old family silver and the china has her
great-grandfather's crest on it, and she brought over a London butler
who grew up in the family service. She keeps him for the same reason
that she keeps the peacocks, I suppose. They give such a grand air to
the place.

"Lida Wilsy--that's the girl from the ranch--couldn't live up to so much
stateliness, especially of the stony-eyed butler. Hawkins was too much
for her. She told her roommate that she thought it was foolish to have
so many forks and spoons at each place. One was enough for anybody to
get through a dinner with. Life was too short for so much fuss and
feathers. She never could learn which to use first, and she would get
her silverware so hopelessly mixed up that by the time dessert was
brought on maybe she would have nothing to eat it with but an oyster
fork. I've seen her ready to go under the table from embarrassment. Not
that she cared so much what the girls thought. She joked about it to
them. Her father owned the biggest part of a silver mine, and they could
have had Tiffany's whole stock of forks if they'd wanted them. It was
Hawkins she was afraid of. Of course he was too well trained to show
what he thought of her mistakes, but you couldn't help feeling his high
and mighty inward scorn of such ignorance. It fairly oozed from his
finger-tips."

Kitty's black eyes sparkled, anticipating times ahead when she would
certainly make it lively for Hawkins.

"There's grandfathah!" cried Lloyd, catching sight of a white-haired old
gentleman who had just come up on deck. "I want to tell him about the
garden before we lose sight of it."

Juliet's glance followed her with interest as she darted away, for it
was a distinguished-looking old gentleman who lifted his hat with
elaborate courtesy at her approach. He