"Let's have a look at you," she remarked patronizingly. "I hadn't time to take you in before. Are you really German? Tell us about yourself." "Yes, go on! Where do you come from, and all the rest of it?" urged Evie Bennett. "Are you dumb?" asked Rhoda Wilkins. "Perhaps she can't speak English!" sniggered Dulcie Wilcox. Gerda Thorwaldson, now the target of every eye, had turned crimson to the very roots of her flaxen hair. She stood in the centre of a ring of new schoolfellows, so overwhelmed with shyness that she did not volunteer a single response to the volley of remarks suddenly fired at her. This did not at all content her inquisitors, who, once their attention was drawn to her, felt their curiosity aroused. "I say, why can't you speak?" said Barbara Marshall, nudging her elbow. "You needn't look so scared. We're not going to eat you!" "No cannibals here!" piped Romola Harvey. "Lost, stolen, or strayed--a tongue! The property of the new girl. Finder will be handsomely rewarded," remarked Mary Beckett facetiously. "You've got to answer some questions, Gerda Thorwaldson--I suppose that's your name?--so don't be silly!" urged Irene Jordan. "Speak up! We shan't stand any nonsense!" added Elyned Hughes. "What do you want me to say?" murmured Gerda, gulping down her embarrassment with something suspiciously like a sob, and blinking her blue eyes rapidly. "Oh, you can talk English! Well, to begin with, are you German or not?" "No." "But you come from Germany?" "Yes." "Have you ever been in Cornwall before?" "Never." "I suppose you can dance?" "No." At this last negative a united howl went up from the assembled circle. "Can't dance? Where have you lived? Make her try! She's got to learn! Take her arm and teach her some steps! She won't? She'll have to! No one's to be let off to-night!" "Gerda Thorwaldson," said Evie Bennett impressively, "we give you your choice. You either try to dance this very instant, or you stand on that table and sing a song--in English, mind, not German!" "Which will you choose?" clamoured three or four urgent voices. "Oh, I say! It's too bad to rag her so, just at first!" protested Doris Patterson, a shade more sympathetic than the rest. "Not a bit of it! If she's really English, she must show it--and if she won't, she's nothing but a foreigner!" blustered Dulcie Wilcox. "This is easy enough," volunteered Annie Pridwell, performing a few steps by way of encouragement. "Now, come along and do as I do." "Fly, little birdie, fly!" mocked Betty Scott. "She's too stupid!" "She's going to blub!" "Leave her alone!" "No, make her dance!" "Don't let her sneak out of it!" "I say, what's going on here?" said a fresh voice, as Marcia Richards entered the room, and, after pausing a moment to take in the situation, strode indignantly to the rescue of poor Gerda, who, still shy and half-bewildered with so many questions, stood almost weeping in the midst of the circle.