Hope giggled.
"I'll thank you to wait a little, then. I mean to stay where I am for the present," she said, in a mocking voice.
"But you're on my desk!"
"Well, what if I am? A warden has the right to sit upon anybody's desk she likes."
"Oh, Hope!" sniggered the others.
"What's the good of being Warden if you can't? The post must have some advantages."
"Hope Lawson, do you intend to clear off my desk?" asked Dorothy, with rising temper.
"I don't know that I do, Dorothy—er—I suppose your name is Greenfield?"
"For shame, Hope!" said Grace Russell. "I'm disgusted with you. Why can't you move?"
Grace enforced her words by a vigorous tug, and drew Hope away to her own place. With two flaming spots in her cheeks, Dorothy opened her desk. She was too angry for speech. Grace's compassionate looks hurt her almost as much as Hope's insult. She did not want pity any more than scorn.