and curly like her own, and none of
them looked as though she did not know what to do with her hands. If only
she could have held on to something, Barbara felt sure she would not
have felt so shy or so helpless. There was a chair only two yards off;
but something kept her standing where she was, and she did not even
reach out her hand to it.

The girls continued their conversation, and forgot all about the new-comer
that Miss Finlayson had brought in. Most of them stood facing the fire
and had not even looked at her; and the others, who glanced now and
then towards the door, only shrugged their shoulders and wondered why
the stupid child did not sit down, instead of standing still in that
purposeless manner. They did not mean to be unkind, but how were they
to know that she was fighting through her first disillusionment?

All at once, a diversion was made by two children from the other room,
who came tumbling through the curtain and nearly upset a tall fair girl
who was the centre of the group round the fire.

'Look where you are going, Angela Wilkins!' said the fair girl, sternly.
'What are you children doing in here, I should like to know?'

'Please, Margaret, don't be cross, and _do_ let me explain,' begged Angela
Wilkins, suppressing an inclination to giggle, and pouring out her words
hastily. 'Jean has had millions of letters from Jill Urquhart, and she
says----'

'It wasn't millions, Angela, it was only one,' corrected her
fellow-culprit from behind.

'And what business has Jean Murray to hear from Jill Urquhart?' demanded
the fair girl.

'I'm sure I don't want to hear from her,' grumbled the other girl, whom
Angela pushed forward to answer for herself. 'She only writes to me when
she wants something. I don't call that _writing_ to a person.'

'She's got a sister coming here this term, and she says everybody has got
to look after her, or something like that,' chimed in the irrepressible
Angela.

'It isn't a sister, it's a cousin. And she hasn't asked everybody; I wish
she had. She's asked _me_ to look after her, and that's a very different
thing,' complained Jean Murray, looking distinctly aggrieved.

'Yes,' added Angela, breathlessly; 'why should Jean be bothered with all
the new girls who happen to be people's cousins?'

'She isn't,' said Margaret, curtly. 'It's only one new girl; and if she is
a cousin of Jill's, Jean ought to be very proud of being asked to look
after her. Do stop exaggerating, An