CHAPTER VIII
COMMENCEMENT DAY
Nan was a born nurse, and, moreover, she had sufficient common sense and tact to know how to deal with nervous exhaustion. Instead of discussing the situation she said, cheerily, “Now everything will be all right. Hilda will look after the stars and wands, and you can have quite a little time to rest before you go back to the schoolroom. Don’t try to go up to your room now, just stay right where you are, and I’ll bring you a cup of hot milk, which is just what you need.”
Patty nestled among the cushions which Nan patted and tucked around her, and after taking the hot milk felt much better.
“I must get up now, Nan,” she pleaded, from the couch where she lay, “I have so many things to attend to.”
“Patty,” said Nan, looking at her steadily, “do you want to go through with the commencement exercises this afternoon and the play to-night successfully, or do you want to collapse on the stage and faint right before all the audience?”
“I won’t do any such foolish thing,” said Patty, indignantly.
“You will,” said Nan, “unless you obey me implicitly, and do exactly as I tell you.”
Nan’s manner more than her words compelled Patty’s obedience, and with a sigh, the tired girl closed her eyes, saying, “All right, Nan, have your own way, I’ll be good.”