unhappy if you find you are
not like the other girls,' she said, just as Auntie Anna had done; 'and
come to me, if everything else fails and you cannot stand by yourself.
Only, remember--you are not in the nursery any longer: you have come here
to learn how to grow up straight and strong and healthy, just as a plant
learns; and I am only the gardener to give you a prop, when you have been
in too great a hurry and are trying to grow too fast. Do you think you
understand?' Her voice changed again, and a laugh came into it as she
added brightly: 'Come along now, and be a happy little girl. You will
find that most of us are happy in this house.'

She took Babs by the hand, and raced her along the passage to the door
at the end, then turned the handle and pushed the child gently into the
room.

'Girls,' said the head-mistress, in the sudden lull that followed her
entrance, 'here is a new schoolfellow for you.'

Then all the voices broke out again, and Miss Finlayson nodded to Barbara,
and went away. It was one of Miss Finlayson's theories, that a new girl
should be left to fight her way by herself; but as she retreated slowly
along the passage this evening, she could not help feeling a little
anxious about the child with the small, eager face, whom she had just
launched into a strange and unfriendly world.

Barbara took two quick steps forward, as the door closed behind her, and
stood there waiting. She had acted this scene over and over again in
her mind, and she had always made her entrance like this; after which
a girl, whose face was plump and ordinary, and whose legs were of the
right proportions, and whose hair was smooth and under proper control,
had always come towards her with a welcoming smile and had led her up
to the other girls, who all had welcoming smiles too. And everybody had
listened to her while she talked about her home and her father and the
boys; and nobody had laughed and nobody had teased, and nobody had told
her to 'shut up.' It had been a very favourite scene in her dream of
school, and she waited eagerly for the other actors in it to come forward
and do their part. But no one moved.

The room in which she found herself was certainly not like the one she
had imagined. It was long and low and prettily shaped, with two wide
bow-windows thrown out on one side of it, and a great square fireplace
taking up most of the wall that faced the doorway. Next to the fireplace
was a curtained archway, which