"Poor thing," said Oh-Pshaw, who had overheard Miss Armstrong's remark.

"She'll get over it," replied Miss Armstrong prophetically.

If Miss Armstrong was a novelty to the tenants of Bedlam, the councilor
in Ponemah also seemed an odd character to the three girls she was to
chaperon--only she was a much less agreeable surprise. She was a stout,
fussy woman of about forty with thick eye-glasses which pinched the
corners of her eyes into a strained expression. She greeted the girls
briefly when they presented themselves to her, and in the next breath
began giving orders about the arrangement of the tent. The beds must
stand thus and so; the washstand must be on the other side from where it
was; the mirror must stay on this side. And she must have half of the
swinging shelf for her own; she could not possibly do with less; the
others could get along as best they might with what was left.

"We're supposed to divide the shelf up equally," announced Bengal
Virden, who had begun to look upon Miss Peckham--that was her name--with
extreme disapproval from the moment of their introduction. Bengal was a
girl whose every feeling was written plainly upon her face; she could
not mask her emotions under an inscrutable countenance. Her dislike of
Miss Peckham was so evident that Migwan and Gladys had expected an
outbreak before this; but Bengal had merely stood scowling while the
beds were being moved about. With the episode of the swinging shelf,
however, she flared into open defiance.

"We're all to have an equal share of the shelf," she repeated.

"Nonsense," replied Miss Peckham in an emphatic tone. "I'm a councilor
and I need more space."