"She is
the plainest-looking girl I ever saw."
Elizabeth nodded her head very positively, and two or three others
exchanged knowing glances. A moment later a little piece of paper fluttered
down at Myrtle's feet from a desk top. On it was written: "She's so plain.
She's Rocky Mountainy--all ridges and hubbles."
Meanwhile Bernice sat very still, her great black eyes fixed on the
teacher's face.
Have you ever held a frightened bird in your hand, and felt its heart beat?
That is the way Bernice's heart was going. She was a stranger. Her father
had moved to this place from a distant town, and she had walked to school
that morning with a pupil who lived on the same street, but who had
fluttered away into a little bevy of children almost as soon as she had
shown the new girl the cloak-room; and Bernice, naturally a bit diffident
and sensitive, felt very much alone.
This feeling was heightened when the bell struck, and one by one the pupils
filed past into the schoolroom, with only a rude stare or indifferent
glance, quite as if she were some specter on exhibition. When the last one
had passed her, she clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
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