ng a conversation.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" she began.

"Not at all," said Geraldine, looking up with a shy little smile. "I
expect you want to know what my name is, don't you?"

"Well, yes--that was one of them," laughed Monica. "You've been asked
that question before, evidently, from the tone in which you said it."

Geraldine laughed too. Already Monica's friendliness was dispelling
that feeling of nervous resentment and shyness occasioned by the
encounter with Dorothy and Phyllis. Neither of these two girls were at
Monica's table, Geraldine was glad to see. The occupants of Table
Number Three were mostly smaller children, none of whom the new girl
had come across before. She turned to her new friend with a look of
gratitude.

"I should just think I have! But so far, you're the only person who's
asked me if I minded."

"Well, won't you reward me for my politeness by giving me the
information?" asked Monica. And Geraldine responded to the kindly
interest by confiding, not merely her name and age, but also many
details of her home life. By the time the meal was over, Monica was
conversant with much of the new girl's past history (always excepting
the events of that October night; Geraldine never willingly referred to
that terrible time)--not an altogether unusual experience for Monica,
who had been the recipient of many a new girl's confidences. The
senior had vivid recollections of her own first days at school, and she
always made a point of being especially friendly to newcomers during
their first few weeks at Wakehurst Priory. It had, in fact, become
quite a recognised thing in the school for Monica Deane to take any
exceptionally forlorn-looking new girl under her wing.

"What do we have to do now?" asked Geraldine, as, tea being finished,
she rose reluctantly from her chair. She recognised the fact that she
would not be able to stay with the elder girl all the evening, and she
dreaded being left once more to her own devices.

"Well, that just depends. Nobody does anything regular the first day
of term. Usually, of course, it's prep after tea. You've finished
your unpacking, haven't you? Then I should think you'd better go to
your sitting-room and find a book to read. I wonder which sitting-room
you'll be in? Have you any idea which form you're going to belong to?"

"Oh yes. Miss Oakley sent me some examination questions to answer; and
when I'd sent them in, she wrote