“Anybody home?” Madge called at the door of two hundred and nine.
“Just me,” Mimi answered hastily hiding her diary in the top drawer of her wardrobe trunk. “I’m in the sitting room—Come on through.”
Mimi could tell Madge was upset. She was paler than usual and her hazel eyes were unnaturally bright. But she didn’t seem happy. Mimi felt she was not up to hearing any bad news.
“Are you keeping training?” Mimi asked.
“No, I’m not that good. Oh, Mimi, since—the other night, I’ve decided I’m not good for anything.”
“Don’t be foolish, Madge. Here try some peanut butter on a graham cracker and forget it. Another advantage of a swollen nose, I can eat and eat and eat!”
“I don’t want to forget it until I tell you something—then, if you please, let’s both forget it. You see, Mimi, I came to thank you for keeping me out of a scrape. I didn’t stop to think—I never do—and I can not take a dare; I simply can’t.”
“I can’t either,” Mimi admitted. “I don’t know why I ever butted in, an excitement-eater like me, but I did.”
“And I’m so glad, so glad.” Madge pulled herself together for the final confession. “Mimi,” she said levelly, “I am in school this year on borrowed money. I wouldn’t have come at all if I were not going to graduate. Suppose I had rung the alarm and they had caught me and sent me home? I would hate myself the rest of my life.”
“I’m glad I butted in then. But let’s forget. You—you make me feel like a heroine—and I’m not!”