“Humph!” was his mental exclamation.  “From one of the jumping hoff places.”  Then his mind reverted to the several detective tales that made up his knowledge of the far West. “’Ope she doesn’t carry a gun ’idden hon ’er person.”

Now that the first ordeal was over and she was safely inside the doors of Warwick Hall, the new pupil braced herself for the next one, the meeting with Madam Chartley.  She wouldn’t have been quite so nervous over it if she had been sure of a welcome, but the catalogue stated distinctly that no pupils could be received before the fifteenth of September, and this was only the twelfth.  She had the best of reasons for coming ahead of time, and was sure that Madam Chartley would make an exception in her case when once the matter was properly explained.  The friends in whose care she had travelled from Phoenix had expected to spend several days in Washington, sight-seeing, and she was to have been their guest until the opening of school.  But a telegram met them calling them immediately to Boston.  She couldn’t stay alone at a strange hotel, she knew no one in the entire city, and there was no course open to her but to come on to school.

It was easy enough for her to see why she might not be welcome.  There was a vigorous washing of windows going on over the whole establishment, a sound of carpenters in the background and a smell of fresh paint and furniture polish to the fore.  Everything was out of its usual orbit in the process of getting ready for the opening day.

Lying awake the night before in the upper berth of the hot Pullman car, Mary had carefully planned her little speech of explanation, and had rehearsed it a dozen times since.  But now her heart was beating so fast and her throat was so dry she knew the words would stick at the very time she needed them most.  Feeling as if she were about to have a tooth pulled, she sank into a large upholstered rocking chair to wait.  It tipped back so far that her toes could not reach the floor, and she sprang out again in a hurry.  One could never feel at ease in an infantile position like that.

Then she tried a straight chair, imitating the pose of a majestic gentlewoman in one of the portraits on the panelled wall.  It was one of Madam’s grand ancestors she conjectured.  A glance into the tell-tale mirror made her sigh despairingly again.  She was not built on majestic lines herself.  No matter how queenly and imposing she might feel in that attitude, she only looked ridiculously stiff.

Once more she changed her seat, flouncing down on a low sofa, and struggling for a graceful position with one elbow leaning on a huge silk cushion.  It was in all seriousness that she made these changes, realizing that she could not appear at her best unless she felt at ease.  But the humour of the situation was not lost on her.  An amused smile dimpled her face as she gave the sofa cushion a thump and once more changed her seat.  “I’m worse than Goldilocks trying all the chairs of the three bears, but that’s too loppy!”