The next spring Ellen went to school.

When a child who has reigned in undisputed sovereignty at home is thrust among other children at school, one of two things happens: either she is scorned and rebelled against, and her little crown of superiority rolled in the dust of the common playground, or she extends the territories of her empire.

Ellen extended hers, though involuntarily, for there was no conscious thirst for power in her.
On her first morning at school, she seated herself at her desk and looked forth from the golden cloud of her curls, her eyes full of innocent contemplation, her mouth corners gravely drooping.

She knew one little girl who sat not far from her.

The little girl's name was Floretta Vining.