"Pauline is calling you," said she gently.
"Yes, I hear; but I do not want anything." And Beulah rested her head on her hands.
"Don't you feel better than you did this morning?"
"Oh, I am well enough in body; a little weak, that is all."
"You look quite tired. Suppose you lean your head against me and take a short nap?"
"You are very good indeed; but I am not at all sleepy."
Clara was engaged in drawing, and, looking on, Beulah became interested in the progress of the sketch. Suddenly a hand was placed over the paper, and a tall, handsome girl, with black eyes and sallow complexion, exclaimed sharply:
"For Heaven's sake, Clara Sanders, do you expect to swim into the next world on a piece of drawing-paper? Come over to my seat and work out that eighth problem for me. I have puzzled over it all the morning, and can't get it right."
"I can show you here quite as well." Taking out her Euclid, she found and explained the obstinate problem.
"Thank you! I cannot endure mathematics, but father is bent upon my being 'thorough,' as he calls it. I think it is all thorough nonsense. Now, with you it is very different; you expect to be a teacher, and of course will have to acquire all these branches; but for my part I see no use in it. I shall be rejoiced when this dull school-work is over."