She was a nervous girl, too; she pouted a good deal and seemed dissatisfied.  Of course, being a stranger, she was lonely as yet; but under the rules of the Sweetbriars she was not hazed.  The S.B.’s word had become law in all such matters at Briarwood Hall.

After they were seated, Heavy Stone whispered to Ruth:  “Isn’t that Gregg girl the most discontented looking thing you ever saw?  Her face would sour cream right now!  I hope she doesn’t overlook my supper and give me indigestion.”

“Behave!” was Ruth’s only comment.

There was supposed to be silence until all were served and the teachers began eating.  The waitresses bustled about, light-footed and demure.  Mrs. Tellingham, who was present on this evening, overlooked all from the small guest table, as it was called, placed at the head of the room on a slightly raised platform.

Mrs. Tellingham, Ruth thought, was the loveliest lady in the world.  The girl of the Red Mill had never lost the first impression the preceptress had made upon her childish mind and heart when she had come to Briarwood Hall.

At last—­just in time to save Heavy’s life, it would seem—­Miss Picolet lifted her fork and the girls began to eat.  A pleasant interchange of conversation broke out: 

“Did you hear what that funny little Pease girl said to Miss Brokaw in physiology class yesterday?” asked Lluella Fairfax, who was across the table from Ruth.

“No.  What has the child said now?  She’s a queer little thing,” Helen said, before her chum could answer.

“She’s rather dense, don’t you know,” put in Lluella’s chum, Belle Tingley.

“I’m not so sure of that,” laughed Lluella.  “Miss Brokaw became impatient with little Pease and said: 

“‘It seems you are never able to answer a question, Mary; why is it?’

“‘If I knew all the things you ask me, Miss Brokaw,’ said Pease, ’my mother wouldn’t take the trouble to send me here.’”

“I’m sure that doesn’t prove the poor little kiddie a dunce,” laughed Ruth.

“Say! we have a dense one at this very table,” hissed Heavy, a hand beside her mouth so that the sound of her whisper would not travel to the head of the table where Miss Picolet and the sullen looking new girl sat.

“What do you mean?” asked Belle, curiously.

“Whom do you mean?” added Helen.

“That infant yonder,” hissed the fleshy girl.

“What about her?” Ruth asked.  “I’m rather sorry for that little Gregg.  She doesn’t look happy.”

“Say!” chuckled Heavy.  “She tried for an hour yesterday to coax electricity into the bulb over her table, and then went to Miss Scrimp and asked for a candle.  She got the candle, and burned it until one of the other girls looked in (you know she’s not ‘chummed’ with anybody yet) and showed her where the push-button was in the wall.  And at that,” finished Heavy, grinning broadly, “I’m not sure that she understood how the ‘juice’ was turned on.  She must have come from the backwoods.”