Persis looked up a little comforted. “It’s good of you to suggest it. I know Basil would help me, and so would Mr. Dan.”
The color mounted to Lisa’s forehead. “No doubt,” she said; “although he does not trouble himself to call upon us very often.”
“He is so busy, you know,” Persis explained. “He does other things besides teaching.”
Lisa did not pursue the subject, and Persis, drying her eyes, prepared to study her lessons.
“I shall have to tell Miss Adams, I suppose,” she said, taking up her books.
“Yes. I suppose you might as well, although it will not make any difference with your being graduated.”
“No; the certificate will take me to college, I know. Oh, dear, Annis will be so disappointed.” And Persis drew a deep sigh as she turned over her pages.
She took an early opportunity of telling Miss Adams of the disappointment, being sure that her teacher, who knew her bright little pupil’s ambition, would give her sympathy. Miss Adams smiled at Persis’s lugubrious tone, although she felt so very sorry for her.
“My dear child,” she said, “you are taking this very much to heart.”
“I know I am,” acknowledged Persis, ruefully. “I had so hoped I could enter the freshman class with Annis, and it spoils all our plans. You know we wanted to edit a magazine when we had finished at college.”