“Are they ‘cooked all wrong, or cold, or anything?’” asked Josy mischievously from Gretta’s right-hand side.
“No, they’re very nice,” said her table-companion, determined not to show she minded being teased. “Margot”--turning to her cousin, who sat eating bread-and-butter, and wearing an unusually solemn expression--“how do you like everything? What girls have you talked to?”
“I’m not so sure that I like it at all,” said Margot decidedly, looking very pink, and setting her chin rather obstinately. “I’ve been talking to a girl called Stella, and it seems as though we’re simply going to be cooped up! Sitting in lines, you know, and doing everything at the proper time! It doesn’t seem----”
“Oh, but Margot!” exclaimed Gretta, thankful that the buzz of talk was rendering it impossible for their conversation to be overheard; “it’s only school ways, you know. Everyone else likes it. If you look at them you can see they do, and there’s such a nice girl next me. Her name’s Josy, and----”
“Yes, do tell your cousin to look at me,” declared the said Josy, stretching a friendly fist across, and firmly shaking Margot by the hand. “I’m head of your dormer, you know, and you’ll have to do as you’re told. Has anyone asked you if you like scrambled eggs?”
“I’ve eaten them, so it’s pretty plain,” replied Margot, a little huffily perhaps, for the first part of Josy’s speech had not served to smooth her ruffled feathers. “I can make better ones myself, though; not so squashy, and with more butter on the toast!”
Josy gave a squeak of joy. “I say!” she said delightedly; “I wish you’d teach _me_! Where did you learn?”
“I learned in Australia, of course,” answered Margot. “My mother taught me; it’s perfectly easy. Look here, if you don’t mind, when does the post go? I’ve finished my tea, and it’s frightfully important that I should send a letter home. It must reach York by----”
“Oh, but you can’t write this evening,” said Josy, rather taken aback by Margot’s decisive tones; “you’ve nothing unpacked, have you? Besides, we write our letters on Sunday; it’s the day for it.”
“But that’s not the same,” persisted Margot. “My mother will expect to hear from me, and----” Her speech was cut short by the sudden rising of the house-mistress. Nurse and the girls at both tables followed suit, and when grace was said those nearest the door commenced to file out of the room in the same orderly and silent way as they had entered.