Never were there two "satisfactory" students so manifestly unhappy. No one could miss the nervous manner Sally tried so hard to hide, nor yet the heightened color in Bobbie's cheeks when she flatly refused to comment on the surprise.
"Queer," observed Dolly Lloyd. "If I turned out satisfactory when I just waited for my little return home notice, it seems to me I would at least emit a smile."
Freed from the scrutiny of their companions at last, Sally and Bobbie bolted for Lenox. It had been a trying ordeal and both felt its effects too keenly to throw it off at once.
"It's over," eulogized Bobbie, slamming down her hat on Sally's camp chair and promptly sitting on it.
"Yes, and you ought to be the happiest girl in all Wellington," declared Sally, standing limp before the dresser that reflected a sad little face unobserved.
"I ought to be happy!" repeated Bobbie. "How about you? Ted knew his guess when he called you King Pin of the Freshies. Sallylun, why don't you try to finish? Couldn't I help you?"
"You know the conditions, Bob? We went into this together and together we quit—" said Sally, rather crudely for her.
"It's a shame," grumbled Bobbie. "I just love it all now."
"But you can remain! Even your conditions are assured."
"And as you said we went in together, etc.," said Bobbie.