"What are Quakers?"

He smiled, and explained to her, and as he talked they swung between gates into a long tree-bordered drive that climbed and climbed until it reached a hill top; and here a low, rambling, many-roomed house spread itself pleasantly upon the earth. Some girls were raking leaves and waved to them as they pa.s.sed. The fat horses stopped at the house. Mr.

Benjamin got out and lifted out the trunk and bag. Just then the door opened and Mrs. Benjamin appeared.

"Phoebe, my dear, this is our new child, Isabelle Bryce," he said.

Mrs. Benjamin bent and kissed her.

"Thee is very welcome, Isabelle," she said, taking her hand and leading her indoors. A great, broad hall bisected the house. In the living room, to the right, a fire sparkled and crackled. The room gave out a feeling of friendliness. There were big chairs, student lamps, pleasant colours and shadows.

"I hope thee did not get chilled coming up the hill. There is a nip in the air these fall nights," Mrs. Benjamin remarked.

"No, I wasn't cold, thank you," Isabelle replied. The last two words dragged themselves out in spite of her.

It was as difficult to hate Mrs. Benjamin as it was to hate Mr.

Benjamin. And the warm big room was nice. But no--she wasn't going to give in. She was a rebel and they should find her such!

Just then a girl came into the room. She was younger than Isabelle--ten years old, perhaps. She was fair and frail with a discontented little face.

"Peggy, this is Isabelle Bryce. This is Peggy Starr, Isabelle. I thought thee might show Isabelle her room, Peggy."

The two girls looked at each other.

"All right; come on," said the younger girl, ungraciously.

They mounted the wide stairs to the corridor above, with bedrooms opening off on each side. Peggy led the way into a huge room, with many windows. It had two beds, two bureaus, two closets.

"I s'pose you're my room mate," Peggy remarked, staring at her.

"Do you sleep here?"

"I slept in another girl's room last night, but I belong here."

"When did you come?"

"Yesterday."

"Like it?"

"No, hate it!"

"So do I," said Isabelle, firmly.

"I cried all night," boasted Peggy.

"I never cry," said Isabelle.

The other girl stared.

"Are there many girls here?"

"You make ten. The rest are raking for a bonfire. Sillies!"

"Didn't they invite you?"

"I can't do rough things like that. I'm delicate."

Isabelle heard shouts of laughter, and hurried to the window. Down below in the twilight a crowd of laughing girls was burying a prostrate victim under the leaves. They shrieked and cavorted about her. A yellow moon hung low over the hills. All at once, clear and high, a bugle call arose, and echoed far and near. It was a scene and impression she was never to forget.

"What is that?" she demanded of Peggy.

"Time to dress. Mr. Benjamin bugles whenever we have to do anything,"

complained Peggy.

There was a rush on the stairs, more laughter, questions called and answered, doors slammed. A poignant sense of loneliness, of homesickness, swept over Isabelle. She turned to Peggy, who sat by.

"I hate it!" she said fiercely.

"So do I. Going to change?"--languidly. "You needn't. Girls don't have to, their first night. Just wash and come on."

Isabelle followed her suggestion and presently the two girls went downstairs together. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin sat together on a high backed settle by the fire. They were enjoying each other's conversation. Mrs.

Benjamin's face shone as she listened to her husband. It was rather a plain face, surmounted by hair parted smoothly in the middle and drawn low into a diminutive knot at the back. She wore a queer dress, Isabelle thought, and a fine white kerchief was folded across her breast. This was her costume always, save on Sunday, when the dress was of silk.

"I hope thee found thy room pleasant, Isabelle," she said as the girls entered.

"Yes, thanks."

"Thee has a fine view over the hills," Mr. Benjamin said.

Then the other girls trooped in, and Isabelle was introduced to them. A servant announced supper. Mr. Benjamin gave his arm to Mrs. Benjamin, and they led the way, followed by the girls, two by two, arm in arm, across the hall to the dining room. There was an unexpected moment for Isabelle when everybody bowed the head and offered silent grace. The supper was plain, but how those girls did eat! Cold meats, baked potatoes and apple sauce, and cookies disappeared in quant.i.ties. Even the rice pudding had to be served twice all round.

There was talk and laughter. No sense of disorder or noise, but it was just jolly. Mr. Benjamin at one end of the long table beamed at Mrs.

Benjamin at the other end. They both played a part in the sprightly give-and-take of the children. It was like a happy family. Isabelle was silent, taking note of everything. Peggy was sullen.

After supper there was a rush for sweaters.

"Get your coat, Isabelle, and come out. We're going to have a bonfire to-night. No lessons until to-morrow," shouted a girl named Agnes.

Isabelle started up to get her coat, but on second thoughts she went back for Peggy.

"Oh, I can't do those things, I tell you. I'm too delicate," whined the girl.

"It won't hurt thee at all, my dear, if thee wraps up well," said Mrs.

Benjamin.

"I'm never allowed out in the night air----"

"Get thy sweater and come out, little sister. Thee doesn't know this night air," laughed Mr. Benjamin.