f a girl made any allusion to them by chance, she was promptly
silenced; if she recurred to them persistently, she was set down at
once as a dockyard girl and an outsider. The consequence of this high
standard was an extremely good tone all through the school.

Beth turned into the lime-tree avenue, where she met several sets of
girls all walking in rows with their arms round each other. None of
them took any notice of her, until she got out on to the drive, where
she met Amy Wynne with her children. Amy let go the two she had her
arms round, sent them all on, and stopped to speak to Beth.

"Have you no mother?" she asked.

"I have one at home," Beth answered coldly in spite of herself.

"But you know our custom here," Amy rejoined. "The elder girls are
mothers to the young ones."

"I know," said Beth, "but I don't want a mother. I should hate to have
my thoughts interrupted by a lot of little girls in a row, all
cackling together."

"I was going to offer," Amy began, "but, of course, if you are so
self-reliant, it would only be an impertinence."

"Oh no!" said Beth, sincerely regretting her own ungraciousness. "It
is kind of you, and if it were you alone, I should be glad, but I
could not stand the others."

"Well, I hope you won't be lonely," Amy answered, and hurried on after
her children.

"Lonely I must be," Beth muttered to herself with sudden foreboding.

When the girls went in, Beth was summoned to the big music-room. "Old
Tom" was there with Dr. Centry, who came twice a week to hear the
girls play. There were twelve pianos in the room, ten upright and two
grand, besides Old Tom's own private grand, all old, hard, and
metallic; and twelve girls hammered away on them, all together, at the
same piece; but if one made a mistake, Old Tom instantly detected it,
and knew which it was.

"Do ye know any music?" she asked Beth in a gruff voice with a rough
Scotch accent.

"A little," Beth answered.

"What, for instance?" Old Tom pursued, looking at Beth as if she were
a culprit up for judgment.

"Some of Chopin," Beth replied. "I like him best."

Old Tom raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Sit down here and play one
of his compositions, if you please--here, at my piano," she said,
opening the instrument.

But Beth felt intimidated for once, partly by the offensive manners of
the formidable-looking old woman, her bulk and gruffness, but also
because Old Tom's doubt of her powers, which she perceived,