The laugh was infectious. The Other Girl laughed too. Unconsciously she moved along on her seat and as unconsciously Glory sat down.
“Oh, it's so easy to be interested!” breathed the Other Girl eagerly. Her eyes shone with enthusiasm. “You just have to open the book.”
“I've opened a book a good many times and never got interested. Never was—never am—never shall be interested.”
The Other Girl laid her rough red fingers on the books.
“Don't!” she said, gently. “It sort of—hurts to hear anyone talk that way. It all means so much to me. I had just begun history when—” She caught herself up abruptly, but Glory was curious. Was there ever a stranger “find” than this?—a girl in a shabby coat, with rough, red hands, who liked history!
“Yes, you had just begun when—”
“When I had to stop,” went on the Other Girl, quietly. “I think I felt sorriest about the history, though it broke my heart to give up Latin. I don't know what you'll think, but I translated six lines in your Cicero last night. I did—I couldn't help it. I haven't the least idea I got them right, but I translated them.”
Decidedly this was interesting. Couldn't help translating Cicero! Glory gasped with astonishment. She faced squarely about and gazed at her shabby little neighbor.
“Where do you go to school?” she demanded. Wherever it was, she was thinking that was the school Aunt Hope would like her to go to.
“At the East Centre Town rubber factory,” the Other Girl smiled wistfully. “And oh, dear! that makes me think—can you smell rubber?”