"Couldn't you write to father, Mrs. Freeman, and tell him that I am not happy? Say, 'Biddy is not happy, and she wants to go back to you and the dogs.' If you say that, he'll let me come home fast enough. You might write by the next post, and father, he'd jump on the jaunting-car and drive into Ballyshannon, and send you a wire. If papa wires to you, Mrs. Freeman, the very moment he gets your letter, I may perhaps be home on Sunday.""Yes, darling, I did. Shall we go into the common room now? I'm dying to see it."
But this new girl was not following out any of the old precedents.
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The ages of these fifty girls ranged from seventeen to five, but from seventeen down to five on this special hot summer's evening one topic of conversation might have been heard on every tongue.
"Patience," said Mrs. Freeman, from her end of the supper table, "I think we have all finished. Will you say grace?""Janet, I wish you would not speak in that bitter way."
"I expect I shan't be allowed to talk at all."Mrs. Freeman left her pupil's room, and went downstairs.
"Here you are," exclaimed the two pairs of lips eagerly.