Ada was obeyed, served, and honored by a large following of admirers.
Bessie Fairfax did not feel drawn to enroll herself amongst them, and
before the classes had been a month assembled she had rejoiced the heart
of the master-mariner's little daughter with many warm, affectionate
assurances that there was no one else in all the school that she loved
so well as herself.

By degrees, and very quick degrees, Bessie's tremors for how she should
succeed at school wore off. What fantastic distresses she would have
been saved if she had known beforehand that she possessed a gift of
beauty, more precious in the sight of girls than the first place in the
first class, than the utmost eloquence of tongues, and the most
brilliant execution on the piano! It came early to be disputed whether
Mademoiselle Ada or Mademoiselle Bessie was the _belle des belles_; and
Bessie, too, soon had her court of devoted partisans, who extolled her
fair roseate complexion, blue eyes, and golden hair as lovelier far than
Mademoiselle Ada's cold, severe perfection of feature. Bessie took their
praises very coolly, and learnt her verbs, wrote her _dictées_, and
labored at her _thêmes_ with the solid perseverance of a girl who has
her charms to acquire. The Miss Hiloes were not unwilling to be on good
terms with her, but that, she told them, was impossible while they were
so ostentatiously discourteous to her friend, Janey Fricker. When to her
armor of beauty Bessie added the weapon of fearless, incisive speech,
the risk of affronts was much abated. Mr. Carnegie had prophesied wisely
when he said for his wife's consolation that character tells more in the
long-run than talking French or playing on the piano. Her companions
might like Bessie Fairfax, or they might let liking alone, but very few
would venture a second time on ill-natured demonstrations either towards
herself or towards any one she protected.