“I’ve been to the dining room twice,” said Cathalina. “Don’t worry about us.” “Goodbye, then, till we see you later,” and Grace and Eloise ran swiftly across the campus toward Greycliff Hall. CHAPTER VI GREYCLIFF GIRLS There were only thirty or forty girls at luncheon, although from the excitement and noise of arrivals Cathalina had been sure that the Hall was full. “Just wait till tonight,” said Lilian North, who accompanied the girls to their door. “Then you’ll not be able to hear yourself think in the dining room.” Once more in the privacy of their own little apartment, Cathalina and Hilary began to put on the finishing touches to arrangement of their possessions and to think of coming duties. “Recitations begin tomorrow,” said Hilary, “and we must find out about the rooms and teachers and everything.” “I’m simply frightened to death to think of it! How am I ever going to get up and say anything before a roomful of girls and with a sharp-eyed professor looking at me. My!” Hilary looked at Cathalina in surprise. “Why should you mind so much? Are you always that way?” “‘Always,’—why, Hilary, I never went to school in my life before!” “O,” Hilary was wondering and wanting to ask why and all about it. “That is why,” Cathalina ran on, “my work is so irregular. I’m ahead in some things and behind in others.” “You have had private teachers, then?” “Yes.” “What are you going to take?” “First year Latin and Algebra and Senior Collegiate Literature,” replied Cathalina, looking at a paper in her father’s handwriting to make sure. “Papa thinks that I have had enough French and German, because I can speak them and read the literature myself any time. He wants me to catch up in Latin and Mathematics as soon as possible.” “Well, you are mixed! You will recite with the infants in Latin and Math and with the ‘young ladies’ in Literature. I’m a regular Junior Academy, of course, because I’ve had two years of high school. But that makes you only—five, ten, thirteen hours.” “What are ‘hours’?” “Hours of recitation, you know. Latin recites every day, so that’s five hours a week,—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.” “I see; but why do you say ‘only’? My father said that if I had too much work I could drop Literature.” “Why, thirteen hours is _nothing_!” “Well, if you had never been to school,” began Cathalina, looking almost ready to cry, “you’d think it was enough.” Hilary’s warm heart was sorry, though she had thought it rather “airy” for Cathalina to mention speaking French and German. She spoke quickly, “O, don’t feel bad, Cathalina, I did not mean to be horrid. I suppose your father knows best. I certainly wish I could speak some foreign languages. Let’s trade. If I get ‘stuck’ in French you help me, and if you should have any trouble in algebra, maybe I can help you out.”