“How perfectly splendid!” cried Matty. “Think of anyone getting the best of Guy Watson like that!”
“He will be awfully angry, though,” said May. “I think you should look out for him, Rodney. He won’t be satisfied until he gets even with you, will he, Matty?”
“No, I’m afraid he won’t.” She regarded Rodney gravely and shook her head. “I’m afraid you’ll have trouble with him. But perhaps――Who do you room with?”
“Room with? I don’t room with anyone, I suppose!”
“I do?” asked Rodney gloomily. “If I’d known that I wouldn’t have come. I didn’t want to, anyway!”
“Oh, but you’ll like it after awhile, really!” assured May earnestly. “And if they put you in with a nice boy――Matty!” May’s eyes grew round. “It’ll be ‘Kitty’!”
“Of course it will! Jack Leonard’s gone, hasn’t he?” Matty clasped her hands in ecstacy, her blue eyes dancing. “You’ll room with ‘Kitty’!”
“Who’s ‘Kitty’?” asked Rodney suspiciously. “A freak?”
“‘Kitty’ is Phineas Kittson,” began May, “and he’s――――”
“No, May, no!” cried Matty. “We mustn’t tell him! It would just spoil it!”
“So it would,” agreed May beamingly. “Oh, wouldn’t you love to be there, Matty?”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” She gasped. “If we only could!” She turned to Rodney and clasped her hands ecstatically. “Oh, Rodney, it’s going to be such fun!”
Rodney arose and observed them disgustedly.
“And this is Rodney Merrill!” exclaimed Mrs. Westcott, beaming upon him as she swept into the parlor with rustling skirts. “I’m so glad to see you! And how nice to get here early! Doctor Farron has told me all about you, my dear, _dear_ boy, and we’re going to make you so happy here at our wonderful school, so very happy!”
And Mrs. Westcott, shaking hands, beamed harder than ever. She was a tall, thin woman with prominent features and a dark blue silk gown that rustled. It was in that order that Rodney noted those particulars. Her face was kindly if not very attractive, and her voice quite pleasant.
“You had a comfortable journey, I hope? Won’t you sit down a moment, Rodney? This is our parlor. We meet here in the evenings and have such pleasant, homelike times. One or two of my boys sing very nicely.” Mrs. Westcott sank rustling into a chair, folded her thin hands in her lap and beamed. “The Doctor said you were fifteen. That is right, I presume? Yes. And you’re to be a First Form boy? Yes. Isn’t that splendid? I hope you will like us all very much. I have such a fine family this year, such dear, _dear_ boys! Perhaps you’d like to go up and see your room? Your trunk and bag came and are awaiting you upstairs. This way, if you please, Rodney.”