I put up my little book in my bag again, feeling
whole and sound. It did not matter that I was crowded and
hindered and watched; for it was written also, "He preserveth
the way of his saints;" and I was safe.
I sat a little while longer alone. Then came a rush and rustle
of many feet upon the stairs, many dresses moving, many voices
blending in a little soft roar; as ominous as the roar of the
sea which one hears in a shell. My four room-mates poured into
the room, accompanied by one or two others; very busy and
eager about their affairs that they were discussing. Meanwhile
they all began to put themselves in order.
"The bell will ring for tea directly," said Miss Macy,
addressing herself to me, — "are you ready?"
"Tisn't much trouble to fix _her_ hair —" said my friend with
the black eyes.
Six pair of eyes for a moment were turned upon me.
"You are too old to have your hair so," remarked Miss Bentley.
"You ought to let it grow."
"Why don't you?" said Miss Lansing.
"She is a Roundhead," said the St.
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