ON her honourable promotion the following Christmas--she mounted two
forms this time--Laura was a thin, middle-sized girl of thirteen, who
still did not look her age. The curls had vanished. In their place hung
a long, dark plait, which she bound by choice with a red ribbon.
Tilly was the only one of her intimates who skipped a class with her;
hence she was thrown more exclusively than before on Tilly's
companionship; for it was a melancholy fact: if you were not in the
same class as the girl who was your friend, your interests and hers
were soon fatally sundered. On their former companions, Tilly and
Laura, from their new perch, could not but look down: the two had
masters now for all subjects; Euclid loomed large; Latin was no longer
bounded by the First Principia; and they fussed considerably, in the
others' hearing, over the difficulties of the little blue books that
began: GALLIA EST OMNIS DIVISA IN PARTES TRES.
In the beginning, they held very close together; for their new fellows
were inclined to stand on their dignity with the pair of interlopers
from Class Two. They were all older than Tilly and Laura, and thought
themselves wiser: here were girls of sixteen and seventeen years of
age, some of whom would progress no farther along the high-road of
education. As for the boarders who sat in this form, they made up a
jealous little clique, and it was some time before the younger couple
could discover the secret bond.
Then, one morning, the two were sitting with a few others on the
verandah bench, looking over their lessons for the day. Mrs. Gurley had
snatched a moment's rest there, on her way to the secretary's office,
and as long as she allowed her withering eye to play upon things and
people, the girls conned their pages with a great show of industry. But
no sooner had she sailed away than Kate Horner leant forward and called
to Maria Morell, who was at the other end of the seat: "I say, Maria,
Genesis LI, 32."--She held an open Bible in her hand.