"I didn't know you were addressing me. My name is not Emma-line!" She drew out the "line" with provoking mimicry.
Fraulein reddened; but she held her peace. She had encountered Emmalyn Brown before. Sometimes disastrously.
At her desk Blue Bonnet worked busily, glancing often at the clock. She was writing a theme, and writing against time. At one-forty-five her paper must be in Professor Howe's hands. There was a strained expression in her eyes as, elbow on desk, she ran her fingers through her hair by way of inducement to thought.
"It's no use," she said in a whisper to Wee Watts, who occupied a seat with her, "I can't get my brain in working order to-day to save me. Have you a glimmer of an idea about Emerson's essay on 'Compensation?' I've got to write it up."
Wee's face looked as blank as a stone wall.
"Emerson! Heavens, no! He's as deep as the sea. Ask me something easy, Blue Bonnet. My grey matter's at your disposal—what's left of it. I think I've overtaxed it with my own theme. Do you know anything about hypnotism?"
"Hypnotism! I should say not. Look out! Fraulein's weather eye is turned this way.
"I think it's the tea we're going to this afternoon that's distracting me," Blue Bonnet confessed, when Fraulein had removed the weather eye. "I can't seem to get it out of my mind. I know we're going to have a perfectly wonderful time. I wish you were going, Wee."
"Yes—it would be lovely. I suppose Annabel has borrowed everything in sight. I've given her my Egyptian bracelet and my jade ring. Don't let her have your furs to-day. You look so pretty in them yourself."
"Oh, she doesn't want them," Blue Bonnet answered loyally. "I think she's going to get Angela's. They are white fox—almost like mine. Oh, bother! What on earth is 'compensation,' anyway? I've read this essay ten times and it's perfect Greek to me. Don't you know, Wee, really? This thing has got to be handed in in twenty minutes."