betook themselves first to their new form-rooms, where textbooks were
given out with preparation for the next day, and desks allotted; then,
when the great bell rang for dismissal, to the playground and
cloak-rooms, en route for home.

Ingred, with a goodly pile of fresh literature under her arm, walked
slowly downstairs. She was not in any hurry to leave the class-room, and
lingered as long as the limits of Miss Strong's patience lasted. She
knew there was a certain ordeal to be faced with her form-mates, and she
was not sure whether she wanted to put it off, or to get it over at
once.

"Better let them know and have done with it," she said to herself after
a few moments' consideration on the landing. "After all, it's my
business, not theirs!"

It was a rather airily-defiant Ingred who strolled into the cloak-room
and put on her hat. Francie Hall, trying to thread her boot with a lace
that had lost its tag, looked up, smiled, and made room for her on the
form.

"Cheery-ho, Ingred! How do you like our new diggings? Some removal,
this, isn't it? I must say the place looks nice. It's topping to be here
at last. By the by, I suppose you'll be getting in Rotherwood soon? Or
have you got already?"

Ingred was stooping to lace her shoe, so perhaps the position accounted
for her stifled voice.

"We're not going back there."