"I shall wear it always, always," she managed to say as she pinned it in the lace of her gown, "and I'll thank you for it properly at another time."
At ten o'clock that night, three very tired but wide-awake little Freshmen, who had watched the dance from the gymnasium balcony, climbed the flight of stairs leading to Fifth Avenue, bearing in their arms three bouquets. After the first few dances the girls had thrown the flowers to their outstretched hands and they had been cherished as valuable possessions.
"I'm going to sprinkle these roses and leave them in Annabel's bathtub," Mary said, stifling a tell-tale yawn.
"And I'll do the same with Blue Bonnet's," Carita said, following the suggestion.
She entered Blue Bonnet's room and after attending to the flowers, set the place to rights; turned down Blue Bonnet's bed neatly, and finding paper and pencil busied herself for a moment with a note which she pinned to Blue Bonnet's pillow. It read:
"Dearest Blue Bonnet:—Thank you so much for letting me help you all day, and for taking care of the flowers. I have had a beautiful time. You were the prettiest girl in the room to-night. Wasn't it sweet of Alec to send those flowers all the way from Washington? I think he has forgiven you for what happened in Woodford. Good night. Sweet dreams. Carita."
The rest of the week passed in a dream to Blue Bonnet. Two things, however, stood out vividly in her memory: Annabel's program, which had been brilliantly sung to an enthusiastic audience, and Miss North's last talk to the girls in the living-room. Perhaps it was the glow of pride on Uncle Cliff's face as she took her place at the piano to play Annabel's accompaniments—the look of satisfaction on Aunt Lucinda's—that stamped the afternoon so indelibly on her mind; perhaps it was a little self satisfaction—for Blue Bonnet was altogether human. At any rate, she felt sure that she would always recall the day with happiness.
Miss North's talk had been helpful—her text inspiring. Blue Bonnet copied the text in her memory book with many notations—all the amplifications she could remember:
"The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. Guard them accordingly."
Then there was the eventful afternoon when the Seniors took the straw ride into the country and built a bonfire upon which to burn the books they hated most. Blue Bonnet had helped Annabel select a much thumbed Cicero (there had been some difficulty in choosing), longing with all her heart for the day when her own Geometry could be added to the funeral pyre.