ar:

"Clinton Hotel! This way!"

"Pinewood Hall! This is the 'bus for the school! Pinewood Hall!"

"Carriage, Miss! Private carriage, Miss!"

"Pinewood Hall! Pinewood Hall!"

"Clinton House! Come on, here, you that want the hotel."

"'Bus for Pinewood. That you, Miss Briggs? Going with me? Where's yer
check?"

"This way for the school. Pinewood Hall! Hi, there, Jim! Found that
other one? Miss Nelson! Miss Nelson! Who's seen Miss Nelson?"

Suddenly Nancy realized that the big man in front of her was roaring her
name in stentorian tones.

"Oh, oh!" she gasped. "_I'm_ Miss Nelson."

"All right. Here she is, Jim! Right this way to the 'bus. Where's your
check, Miss? All right. Have the trunk and bag up some time to-night--if
they are here."

"They should have come on the earlier train," explained Nancy.

"All right. Then you'll git 'em on this load. There's the 'bus, Miss.
Yes! there's room for you in there."

The omnibus was backed up against the platform under the hood of the
station. There was a crowd of laughing, chattering girls before her in
the vehicle.

"Now, Jim! you can't put another livin' soul in this 'bus--you know you
can't," cried one, to the driver.

"Boss says so, Miss," growled Jim.

"What do you think we are--sardines? Oh! my foot!" shrieked another
girl.

"And she's a greeny, too. Any of you ever see her before?" demanded one
of the girls nearest the half-closed door.

"Say! what's your name?" asked another girl, leaning out to speak to
Nancy.

Nancy told her.

"She's green--what did I tell you? And we're all sophs here. Say,
Freshie! don't you know you don't belong in here?"

"She'll have to ride with you, Jim, on the front seat."

"Now! you know what the Madame would say to _that_, Miss," growled Jim.

"Here!" interposed Nancy herself. "I don't want to ride with you any
more than you seem to want me. But it's raining, and I don't propose to
get wet," and she sturdily shouldered her way past the driver and into
the 'bus between the knees of the girls on either hand.

"I can stand," she said, grimly.

"But don't stand on my foot, please, Miss!" snapped a girl she was
crowding. "Haven't you any feet of your own?"

"Oh, cracky, Bertha! you know she's got to stand somewhere. And your
feet----"

"Ouch! who are _you_ shoving?"

"Step forward, please!"

"Plenty of room up front!"

"Why, Belle Macdonald's piled her bags up in the corner and has gone to
sleep on 'em!" sh