“All these girls,” thought Cathalina, “and I don’t know a single one!—but Alma.” The night before and at breakfast she had been at Miss Randolph’s table, with her father and a few teachers, in the comparatively empty, echoing dining room. One other table was set and boasted a teacher and a few quiet, tired girls who had come a long distance.

Miss Randolph’s door stood wide open, and there was Miss Randolph, standing, note book in hand, in the midst of a roomful of girls in various stages of bewilderment, weariness, or interest, waiting their turn. A few mothers, fathers and other guardians of youth waited also.

As Cathalina peeped in rather timidly, feeling, however, that Miss Randolph was her only rock in a sea of uncertainty, that lady beckoned her in and spoke to a young girl near, whose bright, alert look and winning expression Cathalina had noticed.

“Miss Lancaster, this is Miss Van Buskirk, who will, I am sure, show you to your room and make it unnecessary for you to wait any longer. Alma is busy elsewhere, Cathalina,—if you do not mind,—”

“I shall be very glad,” said Cathalina, unconsciously imitating the Sylvia Van Ness Van Buskirk sweetest manner of courtesy.

“Hilary Lancaster will be your roommate,” continued Miss Randolph, turning away rather abruptly to attend to the wants of one of the older girls who came in just then with perplexity written on her face. Many adjustments were necessary in these first school days. There were a few single rooms, some large suites, occupied by several girls together, and smaller ones like the two-room suite to be occupied by Cathalina and Hilary.

As playing the part of hostess came naturally to Cathalina, Hilary, for of course it was the Hilary, received a much better impression of her new roommate than if she had arrived first to see Cathalina in the throes of homesickness. “Pretty and awfully sweet,” was Hilary’s mental comment. Cathalina, too, was delighted with the bright, companionable girl who, full of interest and chatting away, went gaily to their little suite.

Hilary went first to the windows to take a look at the lake, then threw hat and jacket on the bed and dropped herself into the one rocking chair. Cathalina was already seated on the foot of her own bed, beginning to sort a few leftovers.

“Isn’t this the most lovely place? I’ve been crazy to come ever since I got over the first shock of giving up my high-school class. I can scarcely believe that I’m actually here for two years.”

“O, won’t you go home?” asked Cathalina, who often took things literally.

“Yes, of course, vacations; but I can be here two whole years. And then if nothing happens, I’m going to college.” Hilary said this as if there were nothing more in life to be desired.

Cathalina was amused, for her ambitions, so far, had not included completing any course here, to say nothing of a four years’ college course.

“Rap-rap” at their sitting room door. Both girls started to answer the knock. There stood an attractive girl in a pink kimono. Two heavy braids of blonde hair, tied together with a pink ribbon, hung straight from a shapely head. Pretty white teeth gleamed when she gave them a happy smile and held out a pan of fudge. “Come over to fifty-one,” she said, as each selected a piece of hot candy. “We heard that fifty-two had some new girls. Come over and be social, though you mustn’t mind how we look.”

Hilary and Cathalina did not hesitate, but followed the pink kimono and the pan of fudge into a room that looked like the first stages of a rummage sale. Pennants, books, pictures, clothing, boxes, curtains, bedding, and all sorts of articles strewed tables, chairs and floor. And there on the rug, in the middle of the floor, for want of a better seat, were three more girls in gay kimonos. Cathalina observed that these girls had done what her mother had warned her not to do. They had taken everything out of trunks in a hurry, to pile it all here, there and everywhere until convenient to sort and find a place for the articles of this remarkable collection. Nobody was worrying about it, that was evident.

“Can you really make fudge here?” Hilary was asking as they entered.

“Not in our rooms, but there is a place on every floor where we can make fudge or press our clothes or—anything. And these, ladies,” continued the Pink Kimono with a sweeping gesture, “are the Imps, or in other words, the Misses Diane Percy and Helen Paget, sometimes also known as the Sweet P’s, though we can’t say that is very original. We always have Sweet P’s at Greycliff. The other frail being who is unable to rise is Betty Barnes, my unhappy companion in misery, that is, she is in misery—my roommate. Elizabeth, can’t you do anything but grin?”

Three slim arms reached to shake hands and pull Hilary and Cathalina down into the charmed circle, where a bag of salted peanuts was set before them.

“Perhaps you would like to know our names too,” said Hilary as she took the bag and poured a few peanuts into Cathalina’s hand. “We are Cathalina Van Buskirk, she—and Hilary Lancaster, me. I prefer rhyme to grammar, you see, by poetic license, as my learned father might say. And may we please know the name of the Pink Kimono?”

“Beg pardon,” said that bright mystery, sitting down with the rest. “I am Lilian North. But wouldn’t that make a good name for a detective story or a movie?—‘The Pink Kimono.’ Honestly, girls, I am so full of nonsense today that I am positively silly!”

Diane assumed a pained expression and said in a stage whisper to the other “Imp”, “She has discovered it.”

“Imp!” cried Lilian.

Diane Percy was grey-eyed and red-cheeked, with a crisp, decided way of speaking; while her roommate, Helen Paget, was golden-haired, with dark eyes, and a delicious Southern drawl. Betty Barnes was slim and fair, her soft, dark hair tied with a rose ribbon, her blue eyes much like Cathalina’s in hue, her manner demure, and a trifle more reserved than that of Lilian. All were nice girls and this proved to be the beginning of a happy friendship for both Cathalina and Hilary. Of their homes and history we may learn more later.

The amount of fudge and peanuts was steadily diminishing, while many things about the school were being discussed and the girls were getting acquainted, when Hilary sprang up suddenly at the sound of baggage, being thumped and bumped not far away. “That must be my six band boxes and a bird cage,” said she, and with a farewell wave disappeared.

“I must go too,” said Cathalina, wondering if Hilary really did have band-boxes. “Thank you all so much for the good time; you must come over to see us—won’t you?”

“Indeed we will,” replied Lilian and the others variously expressed their friendly intentions. Number 51 was a three-room suite, two single beds in each bedroom, the common sitting room large and sunny, with an attractive window seat, which would doubtless be fitted up with cushions when the girls finally decided to straighten up their belongings. As Cathalina left the girls for her own quarters, a young cyclone in short dress and with new shoes that squeaked, bumped past, almost upsetting Cathalina, and with a careless “beg pardon”, flew past, breaking in a door a little further down the hall and shutting it with a bang. Cathalina stood looking after her with a shocked expression, and Hilary, who just then appeared in the door of 52, laughed and remarked, “Another of our neighbors, I suppose!”

Hilary’s cedar chest, which had been carefully wrapped and crated, stood in all its glory inside the room, and the old janitor, as he appeared to be, seeming to be in charge of the trunk brigade, was unstrapping a trunk outside.

“O, thank you!” cried Hilary, as the perspiring janitor unlocked the trunk with the key she handed him.

“No tips,” whispered Cathalina aside; “Miss Randolph said she does not allow it.”

Hilary, who had not traveled, except from one of her father’s appointments to another, hardly knew what tipping was, and would never have thought of it, looked wise and said nothing.

A busy hour or two followed. Cathalina told Hilary how nicely her plan worked, so Hilary did likewise, transferring her belongings, rather slowly, it is true, from trunk to closet, bureau drawers and cedar chest without the confusion of the neighboring room. Only light articles had been packed in the cedar chest for the trip.

“It takes longer at first,” remarked Hilary, “but it seems to be the better way. I hope you will not mind, Cathalina, but I’m really not very neat. You see, there was always so much to do at home that I neglected my room sometimes for other things and June so often picked up for both of us.”

“I’m not neat, either,” said Cathalina, “because Etta,—well, I just don’t know how very well.”

“We’ll have to criticise and train each other, then. You come to the bedroom door and say, ‘My dear Hilary, do you intend to leave those things on that chair?’ and I will say politely, ‘O, no, indeed, Cathalina, pray come in and sit down!’” Hilary illustrated her supposed hospitality by lifting from a chair the armful of clothing which she had just sorted. “I heard Diane say that Miss Randolph is very particular about how the girls keep their rooms.”

“Yes, and do you remember how Betty said without smiling a bit that that was why they were in such a hurry to get fixed up!—sitting there in all that muss!” Cathalina stood by the dresser, tucking away the last box of trinkets. She appeared quite a different Cathalina from the one who cheerfully but tearfully had waved farewell to her father earlier that morning. “Let’s go down and see what the grounds look like as soon as you are through.”

“All right,” assented Hilary. “I believe I’ll stop now; I’m tired. The worst is over and I can lay the rest of the things out of the trunk on the bed. Then the trunk can be taken down the next time the men come up with a load. Perhaps that’s why the other girls did that way.”

“Perhaps.”

“Wait till I fix up a little. We have lots to learn, I guess.”

“My, I think so! There are loads of things that I ought to have brought to make the room look nice, and then I’m going to find a chest something like yours if I can, or maybe Mother will send me one,” continued Cathalina who remembered that she was not to have or appear to have much money.

“Mm-hm,” came Hilary’s muffled assent as she slipped into a fresh cool dress.

The girls explored the front hall downstairs, glancing from side to side and peeping into the two large reception rooms which occupied the entire front. At the end of the long corridor, a wide window looked out upon Greycliff Wood, into which a pretty path opened and disappeared, lost to view among the trees and bushes. The lake was dimly seen at the right, and at their left the rising ground and wooded hills which extended back of Greycliff Hall. A door was near this window, and a short flight of steps to the ground. As the girls started down the steps, two attractive girls stood up politely to let them pass. One, looking a second time at Hilary, exclaimed, “Why, isn’t this Hilary Lancaster?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Don’t you remember me—Grace Barnard? At your aunt’s not long ago.”

“O, yes!—at that picnic! How funny! Did you know you were coming here then?”

“Yes, this is my third year here, but I did not dream of your coming!”

“The funny thing is that I did not mention Greycliff. I was so full of it that I thought I was never with anybody five minutes without speaking of it. But did Aunt Hilary know that you are a Greycliff girl?”

“No; I’ve only just met your aunt.”

“My, to think what I missed knowing about Greycliff besides looking forward to having somebody I knew here!”

Cathalina and the other girl had been exchanging amused glances and now introductions became general.

“This is my roommate,” said Hilary, “Cathalina Van Buskirk, from New York.”

“And this is my friend, Eloise Winthrop,” returned Grace. “I hope she is going to get into our suite this year, but it isn’t decided yet.”

“We are just exploring,” said Hilary. “I was tired of unpacking.”

“Come on, then, we’ll go with you if you don’t mind. There is hardly time before luncheon to take you through the grove or down to the beach, but we can look around a little.”

The girls paired off, Grace with Hilary, Eloise with Cathalina, arm in arm. Eloise’s heavy, dark hair was braided about her head and crowned with a bright scarlet bow. Her face was full of animation and her light, active figure was a match for Cathalina’s grace, but Eloise had the suppressed energy and nervous force that Cathalina seemed to have lost. As she talked to Cathalina she frequently turned to look at her with a pair of starry brown eyes which quite stirred Cathalina into a lively enjoyment of her present adventures.

Crossing the lawn in front, they stopped a moment at the fountain where two plump cupids were catching water in a sea shell.

“That building so close to Greycliff Hall is Randolph Hall,” explained Grace, as they strolled by. “It was named in honor of Miss Randolph’s uncle, because he gave a lot of money to endow the school. Almost all the recitation rooms are there, and the hall where we have chapel and other doings. Over there is the Gym and the Domestic Science building. And there are the stables and riding pavilion.”

“Come around by Randolph,” said Eloise, “If you want to see the rest. The Music Hall is only a frame building and they are trying to raise money for a better one. But we have a fine pipe organ in Randolph. The studios are all prettily furnished and they have good pianos. I’m practicing on a fright, though. And a girl right over my head, with the same practice hour, keeps time with her foot—or did last year. I’m going to speak for a different piano this time. Look over to your left now. That’s the Pest House.”

“Pest House!” exclaimed Cathalina, “do you often have contagious diseases?”

“That is our name for the hospital We have two nurses and one of them isn’t much older than some of the girls.”

“That makes me think,” said Cathalina, “I notice that some of the girls seem so grown up, like college girls.”

“Why, you know there are two years of college work here. We call them Junior and Senior Collegiate, or Junior and Senior C. I’m Junior Academy, what are you?”

“Father said Junior Academy, I think, but I’m not sure. I didn’t read the catalogue; it was too much trouble.”

“So am I Junior Academy!” cried Hilary, and turned inquiringly to Grace.

“Me, too,” said she laughing, “how jolly!”

“You can usually tell the Collegiate girls, Cathalina, by their looks and ways and the way they do their hair. Sometimes they try to be smart with us. As soon as there is enough money there is going to be a Collegiate Cottage, and a building for art, too. All the girls have for a studio now is a room on the upper floor of Greycliff Hall.”

Cathalina looked interested. “That is one thing I just adore! But my father knows if I get started in that I will just stick around and draw and paint half the time. He wants to have me get outdoors as much as possible.”

“My, that would be the limit,—drawing!” said Hilary. “Excuse me, high school slang. Father said I was to cut it out entirely.”

“‘Cut it out?’” suggested Eloise, mischievously.

“Yes, there it is again; it doesn’t seem to be as much easier here as Father thought.”

“We girls are not any too particular here,” remarked Grace, “but Miss Randolph says a great deal about it and some of us are trying to use good English. Our English teacher told us last year that ‘our speech influences our thought’ and that after a while we will not be able to think anything but the slang—‘and what will you do when you want to associate with people of refinement?’ she asked. She said we’d be embarrassed and not be able to talk and people would think us idiots!”

“How awful!”

“It certainly made a hit with you, Grace.”

“Well, I should say so, and because my father said that if I came home and talked like my cousins, May and Jane, just out of college, he wasn’t going to let me go to school at all, but have a governess or something. And that would spoil all my plans!”

Cathalina listened amazed, recalling that she had always had the private teaching.

“There is Patricia West, Eloise,” said Grace. A young woman came out of the music building and walked rapidly across the campus, smiling and waving her hand at the girls.

“She is one of our instructors, Cathalina, new this year. She is one of the old grads here, finished in one year at college by taking summer school, took out her M. A. last year and here she is. Everybody likes Patty. I had a terrible crush my first year here.”

Cathalina knew only vaguely what a “crush” was, but said nothing. How much older Grace seemed, probably about sixteen.

“I am certainly not ashamed of admiring Patty because she is so dear. They say that the boys are crazy about her, even if she does know so much. She has oodles of beaus.”

Cathalina and Hilary turned to look again at the girl that had “oodles of beaus”, for no girl is so young that there is not some fascination about romance.

“What’s the use of all this, then?” and Eloise waved her hands at the intellectual surroundings.

“She likes it,” answered Grace. “I’ll bet she’s been in signing up for piano now. Very likely she’ll teach and take several courses besides.”

“Mercy!” murmured Cathalina.

“It isn’t natural,” wailed Eloise in pretended grief. “That sort of girl ought to be homely and absent-minded. Of course, she’ll be a cross teacher anyhow, if she does look so sweet.”

“Almost lunch time, girls,” announced Grace, glancing at her wrist watch. “I have to go up to the suite first,—can you girls find your way to the dining room? I promised to hunt up a new girl and take her down and one of our suite-mates is waiting for us too.”

“I’ve been to the dining room twice,” said Cathalina. “Don’t worry about us.”

“Goodbye, then, till we see you later,” and Grace and Eloise ran swiftly across the campus toward Greycliff Hall.