The bath-house was a neat place, with eight small rooms, well supplied with hot and cold water.  Katy would have found her bath very nice, had it not been for the thought of the walk home.  They must look so absurd, she reflected, with their sponges and damp towels.

Miss Jane was as good as her word.  After dinner, Rose was sent for by Mrs. Florence, and had an interview of two hours with her:  she came out with red eyes, and shut herself into her room with a disconsolate bang.  Before long, however, she revived sufficiently to tap on the drawers and push through a note with the following words:—­

“My heart is broken! 
“R.R.”

Clover hastened in to comfort her.  Rose was sitting on the floor, with a very clean pocket-handkerchief in her hand.  She wept, and put her head against Clover’s knee.

“I suppose I’m the nastiest girl in the world,” she said.  “Mrs. Florence thinks so.  She said I was an evil influence in the school.  Wasn’t that un—­kind?” with a little sob.

“I meant to be so good this term,” she went on; “but what’s the use?  A codfish might as well try to play the piano!  It was always so, even when I was a baby.  Sylvia says I have got a little fiend inside of me.  Do you believe I have?  Is it that makes me so horrid?”

Clover purred over her.  She could not bear to have Rose feel badly.  “Wasn’t Miss Jane funny?” went on Rose, with a sudden twinkle; “and did you see Berry, and Alfred Seccomb?”

“No:  where were they?”

“Close to us, standing by the fence.  All the time Miss Jane was unpinning the towel, they were splitting their sides, and Berry made such a face at me that I nearly laughed out.  That boy has a perfect genius for faces.  He used to frighten Sylvia and me into fits, when we were little tots, up here on visits.”

“Then you knew him before you came to school?”

“Oh dear, yes!  I know all the Hillsover boys.  We used to make mud pies together.  They’re grown up now, most of ’em, and in college; and when we meet, we’re very dignified, and say, ‘Miss Redding,’ and ‘Mr. Seccomb,’ and ‘Mr. Searles;’ but we’re just as good friends as ever.  When I go to take tea with Mrs. Seccomb, Alfred always invites Berry to drop in, and we have the greatest fun.  Mrs. Florence won’t let me go this term, though, I guess, she’s so mad about the towel.”

Katy was quite relieved when Clover reported this conversation.  Rose, for all her wickedness, seemed to be a little lady.  Katy did not like to class her among the girls who flirted with students whom they did not know.

It was wonderful how soon they all settled down, and became accustomed to their new life.  Before six weeks were over, Katy and Clover felt as if they had lived at Hillsover for years.  This was partly because there was so much to do.  Nothing makes time fly like having every moment filled, and every hour set apart for a distinct employment.