“Well, kiss me, Little Disappointment, and run away. I wrote your father to-day, and what do you think I told him?”
“That I was a very good girl and he was to send on that ring right off; that you were actually worried about me, I was studying so hard; that—”
“That you were a dear girl,” Aunt Hope laughed softly. “Now off with you!”
In the middle of the night Glory woke out of a dream that she was at the tip-top head of the geometry class, and in Latin the wonder of Centre Town Seminary for Young Ladies. The moonlight was streaming in on her face and found it laughing at the absurdity of the dream.
“The dream belongs to the Other Girl, not me. She's the one that ought to have the chances, too. I wish I could help her—why!” Glory sat up in bed, wide awake. Something had occurred to her.
“Why, of course. Why didn't I think of it before!” she said aloud. “I'll ask Aunt Hope—no, I'll do it.” And then she tumbled back into the pillows to think out her plan. If the Other Girl could have known!
[Chapter IV.]
Two things prevented the immediate divulging of Glory's plan. She chafed at them both impatiently. On the way to the train the next morning Judy Wells waylaid her. That was one.
“I'm going, too,” Judy announced cheerfully. “Of course you're delighted—I knew you would be! You see, I was taken violently homesick for the old Seminary, so I thought I'd run along with you and spend the day. I tried to work up a little enthusiasm in the other girls, but it was no use.”
At any other time Glory would have been delighted enough at Judy's lively company, but to-day she wanted to propose her new plan to the Other Girl in the threadbare clothes. Judy would be dreadfully in her way about doing that. She would have to put it off a day. Glory never liked to put things off.