Mrs. Freeman and Miss Patience had driven away in a very smart carriage with a pair of horses to meet her."Well, Marshall is unhappy about her," replied Dorothy. "She said that Bridget would not touch her dinner. I don't exactly know what Mrs. Freeman means to do about her, but the poor girl is a prisoner in Miss Patience's dull little sitting room for the present."
It would have been impossible for a much colder heart than Dorothy Collingwood's to resist her.
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"I don't suppose that Evelyn Percival is to rule the school. She is away at present, and we can't wait on her will and pleasure. Let's form our committee, and do without her."
"Now, Marshall, what is it? How fussy and important you look!"
"Very well, if it must be so, but I shall be very miserable, and misery soon makes me ill."Janet turned away, and Olive was obliged to look out for a fresh companion to attach herself to.
"I hate school," she said. "I want to go back to the Castle. Can I go to-day?"
"I was going up the staircase," continued Bridget. "I held a lighted candle in my hand. It was an awful night—you should have heard the wind howling. We keep some special windbags of our own at the Castle, and when we open the strings of one, why—well, there is a hurricane, that's all."
"Are you going to be cross when you find I don't know your sort of things?"
Bridget stood by the window, but she heard none of these soothing sounds. Her spoilt, childish heart was in the most open state of rebellion and revolt.
Evelyn Percival was one of the few girls in the school who was privileged to have a room to herself. Her little room was prettily draped in white and pink. It was called the Pink Room, and adjoined the Blue Room, which was occupied by Bridget O'Hara.