"Oh, Janet, don't talk so. She couldn't make an exception of me if she wanted to; and it is just because she is so adorable that I am so miserable about not doing well. Don't you understand?"
"If that's the case," said Janet, "I ought to pass a brilliant examination, for I don't adore Professor Satterthwaite. I'll pluck up courage, Ted, if the rule works that way. Use your mind as Charity Shepherd says. I believe Charity's half inclination toward Christian Science is what she is depending upon, for she is very cheerful."
"If we had studied as hard as Charity has, we might have the same reason for being cheerful," remarked Edna. "I think I will get her to go over this with me."
She whirled her books together and carried them out of the room, leaving Janet plodding over her geometry. She sat on the floor with her feet stretched out and her eyes fixed on the book before her. Once in a while, she would strike the page with her clenched fist, then she would seize a paper and pencil and scribble away for some minutes.
After a while some one tapped at the door, and Rosalie Trent entered, at first seeing no one. "Janet Ferguson," she cried, "where are you?"
"Here," answered Janet from her corner, giving a deep sigh and lifting her head.
"What are you doing over there?"
"Cramming for the finals. Geometry comes to-morrow, and I am in a blue funk over it. I truly am, Rosalie."
Her friend came and sat down near her, leaning forward with her chin in her hands. "Why, aren't you pretty good in math?" she asked.
"No,—oh, I don't know. I'm not good in anything. I'm 'a po' ign'ant creetur', as my old mammy used to say. My head whirls so that I don't know an equilateral triangle from a buzz-saw."