“It’s a work of supererogation,” added Katherine.
Maudie wrinkled up her intellectual forehead anxiously.
“Works of supererogation are supposed to count,” she interposed in her precise, measured voice.
“Yes, if they’re done with intention for somebody else!” flared Raymonde. “But yours aren’t! They’re entirely for your own pride and vanity. Do you come and translate my Latin for me in those extra half-hours? Not a bit of it!”
“Oh, that wouldn’t be fair!” Maudie’s tone was of shocked virtue.
“It’s more unfair to heap burdens on the rest of your Form.”
“I’m bound to do my best.”
“The fact is,” burst out Aveline, “you’re suffering from an over-developed conscience. You’ve got an abnormal appetite for work, and it ought to be checked. It isn’t good for you. Promise us you won’t write or learn a word out of prep. time.”
Maudie shook her head sadly. Her grey eyes gleamed with the enthusiasm of the martyr spirit. 34
“I can’t promise anything,” she sighed. “Something within me urges me to work.”