Schoolgirl rivals

"Good-Bye, my dear child. You are quite sure you will be all right and have everything you want? It's a straightforward run now to Easthampton."

"Oh yes, I shall be quite all right, Mrs. Wade, and thank you very much for all the trouble you've taken with me. I'll sure never forget it."

Mrs. Wade nodded and waved as the train moved out of the junction. She had arrived in London off an Australian boat only the day before and had been in charge of the Australian girl during the voyage over. She had not seen her native country for twenty-five years, and so was naturally feeling rather excited. She turned away with her conscience at rest, having successfully fulfilled her obligation. To be sure, her charge was a very sensible and practical girl, with a mind and will of her own, and had given her no trouble. Now she was safely in the train that would carry her straight to her destination, and Mrs. Wade could leave off worrying about her, and turn her attention to the relations she had not seen for twenty-five years.

Left "on her own" for the first time in her life, Kitty Despard, Australian born and bred, settled herself in her corner seat with an inward feeling of mingled excitement and trepidation, but outwardly with firmly set lips and resolute air. She was a stranger in a strange land, but Australians are not noted for either nervousness or backwardness.

Staring out at the flying green landscape with unseeing eyes, she was wondering for the hundredth time since her departure from home what an English boarding-school would be like. In the old-fashioned story-books they were the most awful places; they had "crocodiles" and "backboards" and lessons in "deportment." But schools had changed in later years. She knew that English girls, as a whole, were fond of sports, and in that, at any rate, she could hold her own, for she had been brought up with half a dozen brothers and sisters in a bush "township," where opportunities for tennis and cricket were unlimited.

There was the question of lessons, of course. Kitty had gone daily by the school train to the High School in a neighbouring town. She had dodged as much work as she could, it is true, but she had one strong point. Jim and Billy always declared that she was as good as they were at mathematics.

No doubt there would be some "snobs" at Easthampton, for Mrs. Wade's sister, who had recommended the school to Kitty's father, had said that all the scholars were the children either of well-to-do or well-born families. But there were sure to be some good sorts, too.

The train was a slow one, stopping at every station. One of these was apparently a junction of a small kind, for there was quite a little bustle as a crowd of passengers from another train swarmed across the platform. Kitty's carriage was invaded by five or six girls who clambered noisily in with the happy air of owning the whole train. Kitty realized with a start that they were evidently Easthampton College girls, for they wore the same scarlet hatband badge as she did.

"Van's further down," remarked one who was craning her neck out of the window.

"We pick up Salome at the next station," added the tallest of the party. "Oh, here comes Paddy, late as usual, tearing down the steps like mad. She'll never do it."

The girl at the window had flung open the door and was shouting, "Hi, hi, Paddy!" at the top of her voice, and gesticulating frantically. As the train began to move, the late-comer rushed up to the carriage door. Half a dozen helping hands seized hold of various parts of her person and she was hauled in, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the carriage. She picked herself up and subsided panting into the seat next to Kitty.

"Your usual method of catching trains, Paddy!" remarked the tall girl.

"Never mind. I did catch it, and that's all that matters, sure," returned Paddy cheerfully. "Cheer-oh, girls, how d'you like coming back to the grindstone? Never ye mind; summer's before us, and cricket and tennis. Oh, the merry, merry month of May!" she began to sing in a tuneless voice.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" sang somebody else; and there was a general chorus, "Oh don't, Paddy!"

"Always optimistic. You're very refreshing, Paddy, my child," remarked the tall girl when the hubbub had subsided. "I came down on the other line with Van, and she could talk of nothing but matriculation."

"When every prospect pleases, and only man is vile," sighed Paddy. "Hallo!" as her sharp eyes caught sight of Kitty's school hat resting on the rack. "Here's a new girl. You are a new girl, aren't you? I'm sure I've never seen your face before."

Kitty replied in the affirmative, and the tall girl broke in:

"Are you really? I'm so sorry I didn't notice it. My name's Eileen Gilbert, and as I happen to be a prefect it's very reprehensible conduct on my part. Do you come from far?"

"From Australia," replied Kitty.

There were exclamations from the listening girls.

"Begorrah!" said Paddy. "But there's a way to come to school for you! Have you been in England long?"

"I only landed at Tilbury yesterday. I came over in charge of a friend of ours. She saw me safely in the train for Easthampton and has promised dad she'll keep an eye on me while I'm here."

"Poor thing," said Paddy sadly, "and won't she be feeling the loss of it now!"

"The loss of what?" Kitty's wits were not quite so sharp at that moment as they usually were.

"Her oie, to be sure."

"Stop ragging, Paddy," interrupted Eileen. Paddy, a girl with bright black eyes, a merry face and untidy dark hair, merely laughed and turned again to Kitty, who had already taken a great fancy to her.

"I don't believe we've ever had an Australian girl at Easthampton before. How old are you?"

"Sixteen--and a half."

"A little older than me. I am only just sixteen."

"Do tell us your name," interrupted one of the smaller girls.

"Kitty Despard."

"Are you fond of sports?" asked Paddy eagerly. "I've heard all Australians are."

"Yes, very much," replied Kitty.

"Oh, good! What house are you in?"

"Miss Carslake's."

"Oh!" Paddy's tone expressed volumes.

"That mouldy show! What an impression of Easthampton you'll get! Now, it ought to have been Sheerston's----"

"Or Prince's," said Eileen quickly.

"Well, Prince's isn't so bad, though it's not up to Sheerston's----"

"Yes, it is. It'll be top house this term, you'll see."