The psychology seemed to work. The girls who'd been on the brink of tears quickly wiped at their eyes and noses and tried their best to look suddenly grown-up. The girl who'd started the fuss, however, still wasn't entirely satisfied.

"Couldn't you just sleep with us this first night?" she pleaded. "Just so we see for sure there's nothing to be afraid of?"

"Not on your life, honey!" Pat thought to herself. "Not the way I'm feeling tonight! And definitely not with that cute little blonde puss over there sleeping in the same cabin!"

"No," she said aloud, gently but firmly. "Mrs. Marchant would be very upset with me if I did that. She wants you girls to become young ladies during the summer, so your parents will be proud of you."

"And so they'll send us back to this dump again next year, too," Roxanne snorted.

Several of the girls giggled behind their hands as Pat shot her an angry look. "If you're unhappy here so soon, Roxanne," she hissed, "I've already told you what you can do. Perhaps your parents can still get you in the camp they sent you to last year."

She noticed the girl's throat bob as she swallowed hard and once again shifted herself nervously from foot to foot. "I didn't say I was unhappy here," she answered. "At least not yet."

"Well if it all gets too unbearable," Pat cracked, "just let me know and I'll speak to Mrs. Marchant for you."

"What are we supposed to call you?" Roxanne asked.

"I don't understand what you mean. I told you at dinner; my name's Pat."

"Do you want us to call you Big Sister Pat?" Roxanne smirked. "Or just Sister Pat?"

"This is not a convent, Roxanne," she growled, squeezing her fingers into tight fists against her palms in an effort to keep her mounting anger against the girl under control. "You can call me Pat. Period."