“Never do to me,” laughed Peggy with a shake of her head. “Just think, Katherine, I didn’t ever even have an idea until I actually saw you that I was going to room with anyone like you at Andrews. When I used to wonder what my room-mate would be like, I always thought of some—entirely different kind of a person—and I was afraid maybe she’d want the window shut when I wanted it open, or she’d be a grind and I’d bother her,—and when I saw you—”
“Were you satisfied?” teased Katherine across the table.
“Oh—” sighed Peggy in mock rapture, and then she smiled her sweet, frank, confident, dark-eyed smile straight into her room-mate’s eyes. “I was just about as glad as they make ’em,” she declared.
Katherine was thinking.
After a while she spoke.
“I know what let’s do,” she said radiantly, “let’s go to Madame Blakey when we get to my house and ask her about the Huntington boy.”
“Who’s Madame Blakey?”
“Oh, I forgot you wouldn’t know. She’s a clairvoyant and reads the future out of a little glass of water. Yes, and you needn’t smile. Sometimes it comes out just as she says. I’ve never been, but some of the business men in our town believe in every word she says.”
“I—I’d be afraid,” Peggy demurred.
“She doesn’t tell you the horrid things—just the ones worth while knowing—don’t you think it would be thrilling to go?” Katherine poised her ice-cream spoon half way to her mouth while she waited for Peggy’s wild delight in the scheme which she felt sure must come.