“Berry Searles?”

“Yes; President Searles, you know; his youngest son.  He’s an elegant fellow.  All the girls are cracked about him,—­perfectly cracked!  The president’s house is next door to the Nunnery, you know; and Berry rooms at the very end of the back building, just opposite Quaker Row.  It used to be such fun!  He’d sit at his window, and we’d sit at ours, in silent study hour, you know; and he’d pretend to read, and all the time keep looking over the top of his book at us, and trying to make us laugh.  Once Mary did laugh right out; and Miss Jane heard her, and came in.  But Berry is just as quick as a flash, and he ducked down under the window-sill; so she didn’t see him.  It was such fun!”

“Who’s Miss Jane?” asked Katy.

“The horridest old thing.  She’s Mrs. Florence’s niece, and engaged to a missionary.  Mrs. Florence keeps her on purpose to spy us girls, and report when we break the rules.  Oh, those rules!  Just wait till you come to read ’em over.  They’re nailed up on all the doors,—­ thirty-two of them, and you can’t help breaking ’em if you try ever so much.”

“What are they? what sort of rules?” cried Katy and Clover in a breath.

“Oh! about being punctual to prayers, and turning you mattress, and smoothing over the under-sheet before you leave your room, and never speaking a word in the hall, or in private study hour, and hanging your towel on your own nail in the wash-room, and all that.”

“Wash-room? what do you mean?” said Katy, aghast.

“At the head of Quaker Row, you know.  All the girls wash there, except on Saturdays when they go to the bath-house.  You have your own bowl and soap-dish, and a hook for you towel.  Why, what’s the matter?  How big your eyes are!”

“I never heard any thing so horrid!” cried Katy, when she had recovered her breath.  “Do you really mean that girls don’t have wash-stands in their own rooms?”

“You’ll get used to it.  All the girls do,” responded Lilly.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” said Katy, resolving to appeal to papa; but papa had gone into the smoking-car, and she had to wait.  Meantime Lilly went on talking.

“If you have that end room in Quaker Row, you’ll see all the fun that goes on at commencement time.  Mrs. Searles always has a big party, and you can look right in, and watch the people and the supper-table, just as if you were there.  Last summer, Berry and Alpheus Seccomb got a lot of cakes and mottoes from the table and came out into the yard, and threw them up one by one to Rose Red and her room-mate.  They didn’t have the end room, though; but the one next to it.”

“What a funny name!—­Rose Red,” said Clover.

“Oh! her real name is Rosamond Redding; but the girls call her Rose Red.  She’s the greatest witch in the school; not exactly pretty, you know, but sort of killing and fascinating.  She’s always getting into the most awful scrapes.  Mrs. Florence would had expelled her long ago, if she hadn’t been such a favorite; and Mr. Redding’s daughter, beside.  He’s a member of Congress, you know, and all that; and Mrs. Florence is quite proud of having Rose in her school.