irl at the table where Ruth and her particular friends
sat, over which Miss Picolet the little teacher of French, had nominal
charge. Nowadays, Miss Picolet's life was an easy one. She had little
trouble with even the more boisterous girls of the West Dormitory, thanks
to the Sweetbriars.

The new pupil beside the French teacher was Amy Gregg. She was a
colorless, flaxen-haired girl, with such light eyebrows and lashes that
Helen said her face looked like a blank wall.

She was a nervous girl, too; she pouted a good deal and seemed
dissatisfied. Of course, being a stranger, she was lonely as yet; but
under the rules of the Sweetbriars she was not hazed. The S.B.'s word had
become law in all such matters at Briarwood Hall.

After they were seated, Heavy Stone whispered to Ruth: "Isn't that Gregg
girl the most discontented looking thing you ever saw? Her face would sour
cream right now! I hope she doesn't overlook my supper and give me
indigestion."

"Behave!" was Ruth's only comment.

There was supposed to be silence until all were served and the teachers
began eating. The waitresses bustled about, light-footed and demure. Mrs.
Tellingham, who was present on this evening, overlooked all from the small
guest table, as it was called, placed at the head of the room on a
slightly raised platform.

Mrs. Tellingham, Ruth thought, was the loveliest lady in the world. The
girl of the Red Mill had never lost the first impression the preceptress
had made upon her childish mind and heart when she had come to Briarwood
Hall.

At last--just in time to save Heavy's life, it would seem--Miss Picolet
lifted her fork and the girls began to eat. A pleasant interchange of
conversation broke out:

"Did you hear what that funny little Pease girl said to Miss Brokaw in
physiology class yesterday?" asked Lluella Fairfax, who was across the
table from Ruth.

"No. What has the child said now? She's a queer little thing," Helen said,
before her chum could answer.

"She's rather dense, don't you know," put in Lluella's chum, Belle
Tingley.

"I'm not so sure of _that_," laughed Lluella. "Miss Brokaw became
impatient with little Pease and said:

"'It seems you are never able to answer a question, Mary; why is it?'

"'If I knew all the things you ask me, Miss Brokaw,' said Pease, 'my
mother wouldn't take the trouble to send me here.'"

"I'm sure _that_ doesn't prove the poor little kiddie a dunce," laughed
Ruth.

"Say! we have a