"Yes, it is a comfort," returned Rosalie with a little sigh, "yet I shall be sorry to have my college days over when the day comes for me to say good-bye to my alma mater."
"I suppose I shall feel that way too, at the end of four years," said Janet. "Gracious, Rosalie, there comes Professor Satterthwaite. Oh, dear, why did he have to come this way just when I was trying to forget him? I will have to run, or I am lost."
"You'll do no such thing," said Rosalie, grasping her firmly. "Miss Drake is with him, and she saw us. She will think we are trying to avoid her."
"But you can explain. Say anything, that I have a sudden nose-bleed, or that I—oh, anything. Do let me go, Rosalie."
"I'll do no such thing," declared Rosalie continuing to hold her in a tight grasp, though Janet struggled to get away, till confused and not in a very good humor, she was compelled to stand still and face the approaching pair.
Miss Drake greeted her cordially, but the professor fixed his keen eyes upon her as he shook hands with her.
"You're looking pale, Miss Ferguson," said Miss Drake. "Have you been ill?" Indeed, the dark circles around Janet's eyes and the pallor of her usually blooming cheeks, gave reason for the question.
"No," Rosalie answered for her, "she isn't really ill, but she soon will be, if she doesn't stop working herself to death. It is simply an attack of midnight oil, Miss Drake. I found her in the throes of a cram, and so I dragged her out, much against her will. She has been hard at it without cessation for days, and she will collapse utterly, if she doesn't take any fresh air."
Professor Satterthwaite shook his head. "That's wrong, Miss Ferguson. It doesn't do to burn the candle at both ends. What are you working at so specially hard?"
Rosalie laughed. "I wouldn't question her too closely, Mr. Satterthwaite; it might strike too near home."