"Go ahead. Rub it in," returned the Cuckoo, beginning to whistle a
trifle defiantly.

She thought the matter over, nevertheless, and returned to the subject
that night when they were going to bed.

"Ulyth, I told the girls exactly what you said about them. My gracious,
you should have seen their faces! Boiled lobsters weren't in it. That
hit about the Camp-fire Guild seemed specially to floor them. I don't
fancy, somehow, there'll be any more correcting done in dictation.
You've touched them up no end."

"I'm extremely glad if what I said has brought them to their senses,"
declared Ulyth.

Rona got on tolerably well among her comrades, but there was one
exception. With Stephanie she was generally in a state of guerrilla
warfare. The latter declared that the vulgar addition to the school was
an outrage on the feelings of those who had been better brought up.
Stephanie had ambitions towards society with a big S, and worshipped
titles. She would have liked the daughter of a duke for a schoolfellow,
but so far no member of the aristocracy had condescended to come and be
educated at The Woodlands. Stephanie felt injured that Miss Bowes and
Miss Teddington should have accepted such a girl as Rona, and lost no
opportunity of showing that she thought the New Zealander very far below
the accepted standard. The Cuckoo's undoubted good looks were perhaps
another point in her disfavour. The school beauty did not easily yield
place to a rival, and though she professed to consider Rona's complexion
too high-coloured, she had a sneaking consciousness that it was superior
to her own.

During the summer holidays Stephanie had taken part in a pageant that
was held in aid of a charity near her home. As Queen of the Roses she
had occupied a rather important position, and her portrait, in her
beautiful fancy costume, had appeared in several of the leading ladies'
newspapers. Stephanie's features were good, and the photograph had been
a very happy one--"glorified out of all knowledge" said some of the
girls; so the photographer had exhibited it in his window, and
altogether more notice had been taken of it than was perhaps salutary
for the original. Stephanie had brought a copy back to school, and it
now adorned her bedroom mantelpiece. She was never tired of descanting
upon the pageant, and telling about all the aristocratic people who had
come to see it. According to her account the very flower of the
neighbourhood had been present,