A girl who had so lately consorted with the county could not be expected to tolerate a tyro from the backwoods.

Stephanie was too well brought up to allow herself to be often openly rude; her taunts were generally ingeniously veiled, but they were none the less aggravating for that.
The Cuckoo might be callow in some respects, but in others she was very much up-to-date.

Though she would look obtuse, and pretend not to understand, as a matter of fact not a gibe was lost upon her, and she kept an exact account of the score.
One morning, early in December, Miss Teddington, who was distributing the contents of the postbag, handed Stephanie a small parcel.

It was only a few days after the latter's birthday, and, supposing it to be a belated present, the mistress did not ask the usual questions by which she regulated her pupils' correspondence.

The letters were always given out immediately after breakfast, and the girls took them upstairs to read in their dormitories during the quarter of an hour in which they made their beds and tidied their rooms.