“I’ve come to collect Katherine,” she poked her head into Zelda Darmeer’s abode and said.
Katherine came hastily out to her, and the two made their way to Ambler House, the several purchases they had made carried loosely in their arms.
When they were comfortably enwrapped in the dear, restful, homelike atmosphere of their own suite, Peggy gave Katherine a sketchy report of her interview with Gloria.
“We’ve had to have our finger in two college pies of very different flavors, Kathie,” she mused when the tale was done. “Our first case was a girl who didn’t have recognition enough—was swamped under the weight of indifference and criticism that met her here. The other has too much and couldn’t stand it. She fell to pieces under the burden of worship the girls insisted on placing on her. It’s funny, isn’t it, Katherine?”
“Such weeps, such weeps,” laughed Katherine, not without sympathy in her tone. “If only everybody in college could have things evened up for them as we have. We’re neither too high nor too low. We have a lovely suite—each of us has a—nice room-mate” (Katherine smiled as she flung this little inclusive compliment at herself), “and people like us a good deal, but not so much that they expect more of us than is humanly possible.”
“But I don’t think we’d be any different in any situation,” judged Peggy. “Do you know, friend room-mate, I’m afraid we’re hopelessly commonplace.”
“I believe you’re right,” Katherine agreed stoutly, “and I’m glad of it!”
[CHAPTER XIV—SPRING TERM]
It is worth while having come through months of winter, full of varying fortunes, to wake at last in the glory of Spring Term.
Spring Term! Those of us who have had it,—what wouldn’t we give to be able to drift backward for a moment and feel the wonder of Spring Term around us again? Sweet with its apple-blossoms, prodigal of its sunshine, giving away New England in a strange manner, showing that she possesses a wildness and radiance of youth that for three-fourths of the year she denies.