Staring out at the flying green landscape with unseeing eyes, she was wondering for the hundredth time since her departure from home what an English boarding-school would be like. In the old-fashioned story-books they were the most awful places; they had "crocodiles" and "backboards" and lessons in "deportment." But schools had changed in later years. She knew that English girls, as a whole, were fond of sports, and in that, at any rate, she could hold her own, for she had been brought up with half a dozen brothers and sisters in a bush "township," where opportunities for tennis and cricket were unlimited. There was the question of lessons, of course. Kitty had gone daily by the school train to the High School in a neighbouring town. She had dodged as much work as she could, it is true, but she had one strong point. Jim and Billy always declared that she was as good as they were at mathematics. No doubt there would be some "snobs" at Easthampton, for Mrs. Wade's sister, who had recommended the school to Kitty's father, had said that all the scholars were the children either of well-to-do or well-born families. But there were sure to be some good sorts, too. The train was a slow one, stopping at every station. One of these was apparently a junction of a small kind, for there was quite a little bustle as a crowd of passengers from another train swarmed across the platform. Kitty's carriage was invaded by five or six girls who clambered noisily in with the happy air of owning the whole train. Kitty realized with a start that they were evidently Easthampton College girls, for they wore the same scarlet hatband badge as she did. "Van's further down," remarked one who was craning her neck out of the window. "We pick up Salome at the next station," added the tallest of the party. "Oh, here comes Paddy, late as usual, tearing down the steps like mad. She'll never do it." The girl at the window had flung open the door and was shouting, "Hi, hi, Paddy!" at the top of her voice, and gesticulating frantically. As the train began to move, the late-comer rushed up to the carriage door. Half a dozen helping hands seized hold of various parts of her person and she was hauled in, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the carriage. She picked herself up and subsided panting into the seat next to Kitty. "Your usual method of catching trains, Paddy!" remarked the tall girl. "Never mind. I did catch it, and that's all that matters, sure," returned Paddy cheerfully. "Cheer-oh, girls, how d'you like coming back to the grindstone? Never ye mind; summer's before us, and cricket and tennis. Oh, the merry, merry month of May!" she began to sing in a tuneless voice. "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" sang somebody else; and there was a general chorus, "Oh don't, Paddy!"