The recklessness of the crying, the absolute indifference as to who heard or knew, made Peggy hesitate for just a minute before she turned the knob of the door and went in. She was not exactly afraid, and yet she felt very much alone with something too painful for her to cope with, as she felt her way into the darkness.
She felt her foot sink into a soft pile of clothing, then immediately after, she stumbled against some large and solid object that she never remembered having seen in the middle of Lilian’s room, and for which she failed utterly to account.
Lilian was throwing herself about on the bed now, and Peggy did not know whether she realized there was any one in the room or not. She felt for the light, and, after much fumbling, found it, and snapped it on.
The freshman’s room was in a state of complete confusion. An open trunk half packed was what she had run against in the darkness. Piles of clothing and books were strewn round about it on the floor, ready to go in. Lilian, herself, fully dressed, started up from the bed with a cry, as the glare of light flooded everything, and dropped back moaning when she saw that it was Peggy who had come.
“Now,” said Peggy quietly, sitting down on the bed beside the tossing figure, “let’s be real still or the matron will hear us.”
This obvious common sense thrown like cold water over her misery had an immediate effect on the other girl, who had expected sympathy.
The sobs shuddered down to long-drawn painful breaths, and Lilian covered her swollen eyes with two weak hands.
“I’m sure it isn’t just the way you think,” said Peggy, after a few minutes. “It couldn’t be as bad as all that.”
“What couldn’t?”
“Why, whatever is the matter.”