who had arrived by a later train, and now
joined the tea-table, claimed general attention, and the meal at length
being over, the whole party trooped away to the play-room. It was a
chilly evening, and I stood by the fire warming my hands, while I
watched the various girls who were walking about arm in arm, or standing
together in select little groups. They were most of them laughing and
talking with much excitement, but the loudest and noisiest of them all
was Ernestine Salt, who with a few choice spirits had taken possession
of the table, where she sat dangling her legs and eating chocolate, the
silver paper from which she made into small hard pellets, and fired at
unsuspecting passers-by, provoking shrieks of laughter from her
companions. So amusing did she evidently find this occupation, that, the
pellets being exhausted, she fished some walnut-shells out of her
pocket, and commenced a perfect onslaught on a neighbouring group of
girls. They, however, did not take it so peaceably, for, suddenly
seizing the table, they tilted it over, sending her ignominiously
sprawling upon the floor, while, seating themselves in her vacant place,
they announced their intention of holding the fort against all comers.

"I don't care!" said Ernestine, picking herself up, and moving away
towards the fire. "It's horribly cold, and I was going to get warm
anyhow. You can keep your old table, if you want. Here, get out of my
way, you little animal!" and, pushing me rudely aside, she pulled a
chair forward and seated herself in the very front of the cheerful
blaze.

"I'm not an animal!" I said with some indignation, for I thought her
manner most disagreeable, and I was determined to hold my own.

"Mineral, then, if you prefer it!" she returned, with a laugh.

I looked her up and down as coolly as she had surveyed me at the
tea-table.

"I should think it is you who are the mineral, if your name is 'Salt',"
I said quietly. "I only wonder they didn't add 'pepper' when they were
christening you!"

Her companions tittered.

"You've met your match, Ernestine?" declared one.

"Sharp little thing! Who is she?" whispered another.

"You won't put 'salt' on that bird's tail!" said a third, laughing at
her own joke.

Ernestine looked as black as thunder, but for the moment she had no
repartee ready, and she was saved from the necessity of a reply by the
tinkle of a bell, and the voice of the head-girl, who announced that a
general meeting