"O Dolly," they exclaimed, running up to their favorite, "she has come—we have seen her! She is very tall, and—and——"
"I don't mean that sort of learning, Bridget. I mean what you acquire from books—grammar, French, music."
Evelyn Percival, the head girl of the school, was now between seventeen and eighteen years of age. She was a rather pale, rather plain girl; her forehead was broad and low, which gave indications of thoughtfulness more than originality; her wide open gray eyes had a singularly sweet expression; they were surrounded by dark eyelashes, and were the best features in a face which otherwise might have appeared almost insignificant.
It really was too absurd. Janet could not help fidgeting almost audibly.
"I think I understand you, Dorothy," said Mrs. Freeman. "Kiss me!"