f the opened window. The cubicle walls were white, the
furniture white-enamelled; while the curtain which cut the small
compartment off from the rest of the dormitory, the toilet-cover on the
dressing-table, and the covering of the arm-chair were all of a dainty
cream-coloured chintz with a pretty pink rosebud pattern stencilled
upon it. Everything was certainly very nice--much nicer than the new
girl had expected--and she looked around with a certain amount of
satisfaction. Perhaps after all school would not be the dreadful place
she had imagined it would be. Here, at least, would be a place of
refuge if the world outside should prove too hard and unfriendly.

Number Thirteen--the numbers were painted outside on the doorposts--was
the only cubicle in the Pink Dormitory across which the shielding
curtain was drawn. In all the other cubicles unpacking was taking
place in full publicity. Rules were in abeyance on this the first day
of term, and the dormitory hummed with the shrill chatter that was
going on all around. The school was reassembling for the autumn term,
and there were many accounts of holiday doings to be retailed, and much
conjecturing going on respecting new girls, new mistresses, new
prefects, and new rules. The school year at Wakehurst Priory began
with the autumn term, and any changes in the staff or the school
routine were usually made then.

Cubicle Number Twelve was as yet unoccupied, but when the bustle of
unpacking was at its height, a newcomer burst into the dormitory and
rushed helter-skelter down the long corridor, calling out cheerful
greetings to various occupants of the cubicles as she passed. Reaching
Number Twelve, she tumbled her coat and hat and handbag unceremoniously
on to the bed, and flung back the curtain of the next-door cubicle with
a gay call of greeting.

"What on earth do you want to go pulling your curtains for, you old
curmudgeon?" she cried impetuously, then stopped short in sudden
surprise at the sight of the strange girl who was sitting on the bed.

"Who the dickens are you?" she ejaculated. "And what in the world are
you doing in Dorothy Pemberton's cubicle?"

The new girl gave a startled jump and rose to her feet. She was a
tall, slight girl, some fifteen years old, taller by a couple of inches
than her inquisitor, and apparently older. But in spite of her
seniority she looked at the intruder in a frightened sort of way, and
replied nervously to her questi