“I hope so,” Polly answered. “It was awfully fair, don’t you think?”
“Yes; but tell me one thing,” Angela insisted, coming to a standstill and putting her hands on Betty’s shoulder. “What did you say for the hint that Portia gave Bassanio about the caskets?”
“Why, the song—‘Tell me where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head?’” Betty answered.
“Don’t you see” (Polly took up the explanation), “bred and head and all the other lines ended in a word that rimed with lead, and Portia hoped that Bassanio would think of that and choose the right casket.”
“Too deep for me. I do remember, now, Miss Porter saying something about it, but I skipped that question,” replied Angela. “Still, I think I passed.”
They were on their way to Polly’s room, but before they reached her door, Lois overtook them.
“Horrible news!” she announced. “Latin exam. this afternoon instead of tomorrow!”
“It can’t be. How do you know?” demanded Betty.
“Saw it posted on the bulletin board.”
“That woman’s a fiend,” Polly groaned. “I intended cramming this whole afternoon, and now what’s to be done?”