Emily still took the lead. "Why do you come _here?_" she asked.
"Who ever heard of a girl joining a new school just before the
holidays? You are nineteen years old, are you? I'm a year younger
than you--and I have finished my education. The next big girl in
the room is a year younger than me--and she has finished her
education. What can you possibly have left to learn at your age?"

"Everything!" cried the stranger from the West Indies, with an
outburst of tears. "I'm a poor ignorant creature. Your education
ought to have taught you to pity me instead of making fun of me.
I hate you all. For shame, for shame!"

Some of the girls laughed. One of them--the hungry girl who had
counted the strokes of the clock--took Francine's part.

"Never mind their laughing, Miss de Sor. You are quite right, you
have good reason to complain of us."

Miss de Sor dried her eyes. "Thank you--whoever you are," she
answered briskly.

"My name is Cecilia Wyvil," the other proceeded. "It was not,
perhaps, quite nice of you to say you hated us all. At the same
time we have forgotten our good breeding--and the least we can do
is to beg your pardon."

This expression of generous sentiment appeared to have an
irritating effect on the peremptory young person who took the
lead in the room. Perhaps she disapproved of free trade in
generous sentiment.