room so entirely that the Juniors stopped short in amazement, too
dumbfounded for the moment to do anything but stare. The stranger
stepped forward with almost an air of welcome and, dropping a mock
curtsy, announced herself.

"Glad to make your acquaintance!" she began. "Miss Poppleton said she'd
introduce me to the school, but I guessed I'd rather introduce
myself--thought I'd do the thing better than she would, somehow. I don't
like stiff introductions--I'm not at all a starchy sort of person, as I
dare say you can see for yourselves; and I prefer to make friends after
my own fashion. My name's Gipsy Latimer, and I'm American and British
and Colonial and Spanish all mixed up, and I've travelled half round the
world, and been in seven different schools, and I was fourteen last
birthday, and I arrived here this afternoon, and I'm going to stop on a
while, and I just adore cricket, and I detest arithmetic in any shape,
and I'm always ready for any fun that's on the go. There! I've told you
all about myself," and she curtsied again.

The girls laughed. There was something decidedly attractive and breezy
about the newcomer. Her dark eyes danced and twinkled as she spoke, and
there was an unconventional jollity in the very high-pitched tone of her
voice, and an infectious merriment in her dimples.

"What did you say your name was?" asked Hetty Hancock, by way of making
the first advances.

"That's right--fire off your questions! I've been at seven schools
before this, and everybody starts with the same catechism. I'm ready to
answer anything within reason, but perhaps I'd best take a seat while
you're at it. No, thanks! I prefer the table--always like the highest
place, you see! I've sat on the mantel-piece before now. Yes, I said my
name was Gipsy--G--I--P--S--Y."

"But it's not your real name, surely?"

"You weren't christened that?"

"Only wish I had been! No, my godfather and godmothers didn't know their
business, and they went and gave me the most outlandish, sentimental,
ridiculous, inappropriate name you could imagine. You might try a dozen
guesses, and you'd never hit on it. Don't you want to guess? Well, I'll
tell you, then--it's Azalea."

"Azalea--why, I think that's rather pretty," ventured Lennie Chapman.

"Pretty enough in itself, perhaps, but it doesn't suit me. Do I look
like an 'Azalea' with my dark hair and eyes? They should have had more
sense when they christened me. Why, an Azalea ought to be