Blue Bonnet half rose in her seat and her face flushed scarlet.
"I am not prepared, Professor Howe. I am sorry—but—"
"Have you been ill, Miss Ashe?"
"No, not ill, but—"
"Take your seat and remain after the class is dismissed, Miss Ashe."
"This afternoon, Professor Howe? Oh, I can't to-day. It is impossible—"
Professor Howe made no reply and passed on to the next pupil.
Blue Bonnet did some quick thinking during the next few minutes. How she was to write a theme and get ready to go to Cambridge by three o'clock, was beyond her ability to calculate. Professor Howe would surely excuse her when she explained; explained that she had tried to write the theme and failed—she felt sure of that. But Professor Howe for once was adamant. No explanation sufficed; no amount of pleading prevailed. Blue Bonnet remained after class and, cross and late, reached her room just as Sue and Annabel were leaving theirs, well groomed and immaculate.
"I reckon you'll have to go on without me," she said, her eyes filling with tears of vexation and disappointment. "Professor Howe's on a regular rampage to-day. She's kept me all this time over an old composition on Emerson. She's made me loathe Emerson for all time. I shall perfectly hate him from this hour forth. Go on, don't wait! I won't spoil everything for the rest of you."
"Nonsense," Annabel said, pushing Blue Bonnet into her room and taking out her clothes from the closet. "Just hurry a little. The boys aren't here yet. It won't hurt them to wait a few minutes anyway. It's no killing matter. Wash in a little cold water; it'll freshen you."