"I've never been able to get anything but yes or no out of her," another girl complained. "I call her just plain slow."
"She's always fearfully polite," some one else objected. "I never heard her use a single slang word."
"Oh, well, Sally will cure her of that,"—Rosamond laughed.
Eleanor sighed. It was so easy to be goodnatured that she couldn't understand anybody taking the trouble to sulk.
"We must be nice to her anyway," she said decidedly. "She's Phyllis's twin, and she's in our class."
"Suppose so," the others agreed, as the bell rang.
When Sally and Phyllis returned to the study hall, Janet was still at her desk. She looked up and smiled as Phyllis spoke to her, but she went on with her work.
Sally watched her critically and sighed. She was awfully sorry for her but she was angry too. She wanted to shake her, to make her laugh or cry or do something besides just sitting there with that forced smile and her brown eyes ready to flood with tears any minute.
"I wish she would bawl and have it over with," she thought to herself.
Janet lifted the lid of her desk to put away her papers, and Sally lifted hers at the same time and bent her head so that she could speak without being seen from the desk.