Freda sat up sharply. “Just you wait,” she said, tapping the desk with her knuckles. “It’s going to be a great old splash and Nutbrown will be suddenly seized with an acute pain in his higher criticism.”
“Say, do you know I’ve a secret to tell you,” said Mauney, after a moment’s reflection. “I’m not really supposed to tell anybody, but I’m going to tell you. What do you think has happened?”
“Well, perhaps I have an idea,” she said with a particularly blasé yawn. “But I might be wrong, so maybe you’d better tell me.”
“I’m going to lecture in history next fall. What do you think about that?”
“My dear man, I’ve known that for two months.”
“Well, aren’t you glad?” he asked, puzzled by her apathetic expression.
Her eyes narrowed as if she were weighing the elements of the case.
“I can’t say that I am,” she replied. “You weren’t cut out for a professor. Please pardon my abruptness, but that’s just it. I’m sure you’re happy over it, and I have no intention of prophesying. My knowledge of university life has been gained by keeping my eyes open, and I know the crowd. You won’t agree with them. You’ re too vital, if I may be allowed to use the expression.”
“I feel like thanking you for that, Miss MacDowell.”