“Oh, Miss _Drury_!” Clare was evidently listening feverishly while the mistress expatiated fervently on the interests and excitements of an Easter camp when the winds had been so strong that their tent was blown sky-high during the process of being pitched by an inexperienced camper; when the tent canvas had apparently shrunk dreadfully after an April deluge; and when a tent pole had cracked at midnight with direful consequences to all concerned. “But all I can say is,” finished up the mistress, “that I never gained such good experience at first hand in my life. The more you pay for experience the more good you get from it.” Then, in the quick direct and very kindly way which Betty had already realized as characteristic, Miss Drury turned to speak to the new girl at her side. “Are you a Guide?” she asked kindly. “No? Well, I am very glad, for your sake then, that you have come to St. Benedick’s just when you have. Thirteen, are you not? Quite a junior. You have plenty of time to work up for your badges, you know.” “I hope you’ll be a Cowslip,” put in Clare, smiling across from Miss Drury’s other side. “Oh, Miss Drury, I do hope--” The talk began again. But Betty had already decided that, if she had anything to do with the matter, she would be a Daisy rather than any other flower of the field! She was still firmly of the same opinion when the lodge gate was reached and the school came in sight. Not a large house, but an old one. Standing, as it did, in well-wooded grounds, it looked still almost as it must have looked long ago--an unpretentious old family mansion, which had not been built for school purposes, but whose quiet atmosphere of age and dignity had yet changed wonderfully little since the coming of the Benedick girls some ten years back. From the lodge gate through which the crocodile of girls entered the old house could be seen at once, with its mullioned windows and twisted chimneys, with its creepers which would be red-golden in the autumn but which were now glad-green. It was lit up with the late afternoon sun, and seemed, against its background of dark whispering trees, as though smiling kindly at the returning girls. The house was faced with green lawns, as well and trimly kept as they had ever been before the school had taken possession there. Its gardens, through which the big drive wound up to the great main door, were old-world gardens still. Beds of old-fashioned roses, tiled paths, clipped yew trees, an ancient sundial--the impression of the whole was a quiet one. Rooks cawed from the tall old elms behind the house; the trees in the grounds through which the girls walked seemed old and full of years. “Is _that_ St. Benedick’s?” asked Betty, wondering.