!' she exclaimed.

Barbara wondered what the joke was. 'They're not like me,' she said
simply. 'The others are all boys, you see, so they get their own way
without fighting.'

And when the German governess came to turn out their lights, she found
the three white-robed figures standing together in Jean's room, one of
them shaking with laughter, another trying rather unsuccessfully to keep
grave, while the third, holding out a bottle in her hand, looked at them
both with a puzzled air. There was no end, thought Fraeulein, to the
caprices of English children. Had not Miss Finlayson been relating to
all the teachers downstairs, how the two little ones before her had
flown at each other in a passion, just before prayers?

The junior playroom felt equally incapable of grappling with the
situation, when the new girl marched gaily into it the next morning
with her arm linked in Jean Murray's. For once, Jean's followers found
themselves at a loss. Not having been informed what actually had taken
place in the passage the night before, they could hardly be expected to
know all at once how to treat this new state of affairs. Nor did Jean
trouble herself to enlighten them. Indeed, she was so cross when any one
approached her on the subject, that even Angela had to leave her alone;
while the junior playroom in general, being less devoted, threw out
dark hints about temper as soon as Jean was out of hearing. Angela,
however, had the wit to see the one thing that was evident--the feud
with the new girl was at an end, and anybody who wanted to keep friends
with Jean Murray in future would have to accept Barbara Berkeley as
well. So she decided to accept Barbara herself, to begin with; and she
set to work at the same time to convert the whole of the junior playroom.

'If you don't behave decently to her, you'll have Finny down on you,'
she advised, in the few moments allowed for conversation after breakfast.
'Anybody could see that, from the way Finny glared at Jean last night.'

'Did _you_ see it?' inquired Charlotte Bigley, with unpleasant directness.

'N--no, not exactly,' admitted Angela, uncomfortably. 'But Mary Wells
did, and she told me. And look here,' she went on, shifting her ground
hurriedly, 'Jean's made it up with Barbara Berkeley, and the sooner we
do the same the better it'll be for us. Besides, why shouldn't we make it
up? It's such a bore to have to keep on remembering all the time that
you're _furious_ with some on