"It's my job to look after things like that," Gabrielle said firmly. "It's the choice between pointing out quietly to him that babies mustn't be frightened, and telling Miss Conyngham what he's been doing--and I'm Head of the Lower. And nobody tells about unfairness and things like that at Coll; you just bear them, or alter them for yourself." "Well, you're a sport, Gabrielle," Noreen remarked admiringly. "_I_ wouldn't have the pluck." "Of course I shall put it quite politely," Gabrielle told them. "Just say I am sure he would be most disturbed if he knew that he frightened the babies, and so on. I don't suppose he does it on purpose." "I do," Noreen said stubbornly. "Don't you, Joey?" "Haven't seen enough of him--but I do think he's a terror," Joey agreed; and then the station came in sight and they left off talking about the Professor and his ways, and talked of Miss Craigie instead. "You'll have to buck up over your maths now, Joey," Gabrielle remarked. "She'll be so frightfully keen to see you go top, if she's a friend of yours." "Joey is rather brainy over them," Noreen remarked kindly. "I sometimes fear she's going to turn into a swot after all." "I'm not. I've been in quite as many rows for talking in maths class as you, anyhow," Joey retorted. "Well, nobody talks when Miss Craigie takes maths," Gabrielle said, and Noreen agreed a trifle ruefully. "No, that's a true bill. You're a frightfully strenuous crowd in Scotland, Joey. Glad I wasn't born there." "It's really rather funny we three should be friends," Joey remarked. "Gabrielle English, Noreen Irish, and I Scotch." "We ought to make a pretty good alliance, don't you think?" said Gabrielle in her quiet way. "The three Musketeers," suggested Noreen. "Let's stick together like they did--and I only wish we could go in for as many rows!" At which pious aspiration both Joey and Gabrielle laughed, for Noreen was notorious at Redlands for the number and extent of her rows. The train was rather late, but it came at last, and among the few people getting out at Mote Deeping, was a neat figure in a very well-cut coat and skirt, who was only about half Mr. Craigie's ungainly size, and not at all like him at first sight; though Joey came a little later on to recognise the familiar twinkle of the deep-set eyes and the kindly smile. Just then she only knew Miss Craigie by the ecstatic exclamation of Noreen and Gabrielle, "That's her!" Miss Craigie shook hands with them, and she seemed to know who Joey was without a need of Gabrielle's polite introduction. At the earnest request of all the three, she consented to put all her luggage into one of the wheezy cabs and walk with them to Redlands. She laid a hand on Joey's shoulder as they left the little station. "Well, how goes it?" Joey liked her voice, with its touch of soft Scotch accent, and her eyes were very kind. She took a deep breath.