When the service was over she went, as ordered, straight to Miss Conyngham's room, where she found Cousin Greta--tall, thin, grey-haired, and distinguished-looking--conversing with Miss Conyngham. Joey offered a cheek to her relative with exemplary politeness. Cousin Greta kissed her and then held her at arm's length, looking at her critically. "My dear child, what a beanstalk for only thirteen! But height runs in the family," she added to Miss Conyngham; "my cousin, this child's father, was six foot two." "Mums is tall as well," Joey put in aggressively. "Yes, I suppose she is," agreed Cousin Greta, without interest. "Are you ready to come, Joey? I will bring her back--did you say in time for evening chapel--6.30? Very good, Miss Conyngham." Cousin Greta and the Head shook hands, and Cousin Greta laid beautifully gloved fingers on Joey's shoulders, and walked her out in the wake of the perfect parlour-maid to the front door, where her Daimler was waiting. Joey tried to look riotously happy, not so much, it is to be feared, from motives of politeness, as because she wanted to impress the other girls standing about in little groups near the entrance. She even waved condescendingly to one of the two big girls who had sat beside her at that first breakfast and taken so little notice of her presence. The senior tried to put her in her place by not returning the wave, but Joey knew they were envious, all the same. Of course, they couldn't know what a stupid sort of outing she was really going to have. "And how do you like Redlands?" asked Cousin Greta, as the car slid smoothly down the drive. "Oh, all right," Joey answered, still with caution. "Have you made many friends yet?" "Not whole ones--sort of half." "What _do_ you mean?" "Oh, I like some of the girls," Joey said, getting red; "but that isn't being proper friends, is it?" Cousin Greta "didn't know." Joey thought she had been an idiot to try and answer that question so truthfully. She might have realised that Cousin Greta wouldn't be likely to understand, and for the next ten minutes she patiently answered questions as to the health of Mums, the boys, and Kirsty, her own place in Form, and such-like. She also told Cousin Greta all that she thought Cousin Greta would like to know: what his late Headmaster had said about Gavin; the good place Ronnie had taken; Bingo's funny comment when the schoolmaster tried to teach him the first declension. "I'm sure God didn't make this language the same time as He made nice fings like elephants." "Your father's boys would have brains," said Cousin Greta approvingly. "Father always said Mums had twice his," Joey fired out, getting hot and angry.