Gertrude had been Ulyth's room-mate last term, and felt aggrieved to be superseded.
"I call her the cuckoo," said Mary Acton.

"Do you remember the young one we found last spring, sprawling all over the nest, and opening its huge, gaping beak ?" In spite of her ignorance and angularities there was a certain charm about the new-comer.

When the sunburn caused by her sea-voyage had yielded to a course of treatment, it left her with a complexion which put even that of Stephanie Radford, the acknowledged school beauty, in the shade.

The coral tinge in Rona's cheeks was, as Doris Deane enviously remarked, "almost too good to look natural", and her blue eyes with the big pupils and the little dark rims round the iris shone like twinkling stars when she laughed.

That ninnying laugh, to be sure, was still somewhat offensive, but she was trying to moderate it, and only when she forgot did it break out to scandalize the refined atmosphere of The Woodlands; the small white even teeth which it displayed, and two conspicuous dimples, almost atoned for it.