“Oh, is that your trouble!” Babe gave a sigh of relief, which the others echoed. “Why, we’ve brought the ‘last resorts’ along. You don’t know what they are, do you? It’s private Harding slang. Let’s camp on the top of that lovely steep cliff, with the purple heather on top of it, and then we’ll show you about ‘last resorts.’”
So they settled themselves on the rocks, Babe produced the two chafing-dish lamps, and a flask of alcohol from somewhere inside her sweater,—she and Bob always tucked things away in mysterious places to leave their hands free,—and Mr. Dwight obligingly held the coffee-pot over one lamp, while Babbie arranged the table on a flat rock, and the rest threaded thin slices of bacon on to pointed sticks and squabbled merrily for a chance to hold them near the flame of the other lamp. Miss MacNish had given them scones instead of rolls, and raspberry tartlets for dessert, so it wasn’t quite an American picnic after all. But it was a perfectly satisfactory one, John declared.
“Are all Harding girls like your crowd?” he asked Babe on the way home.
Babe considered laughingly. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, jolly, and up to things, not minding if you get your skirts wet going ’cross country, and knowing about ‘last resorts,’ and all that.”
“Well, of course we always thought we were a little jollier than any other crowd,” Babe explained modestly. “We called ourselves ‘The Merry Hearts,’ you know, and we had all the fun there was going, I guess—especially Bob Parker and Babbie and I.”
John’s face darkened suddenly. “I thought from something Babbie said—did you go in hard for honors and all that?”
“I didn’t,” said Babe sturdily. “I just managed to keep along. I’m not a bit clever, you see, but the others are—except Betty, perhaps, and she was always right up in her work. Helen Adams and Madeline were prods. in lit. and themes, and Eleanor Watson was fine in everything after she settled down to work. Babbie was the brightest kind of a star in the languages, and Bob and K. Kittredge were in all the scientific societies. Oh, and Roberta Lewis was a wonderful actress and Rachel Morrison was considered the best all-around student in 19—. Everybody but me was in Clio or Dramatic Club.”
“I think you were wise to stay out,” said John carelessly. “I don’t believe in killing yourself with work, just for a few empty honors.”
“Empty honors!” Babe’s brown eyes flashed. “Do you think honors are empty in a girl’s college? I should like to have been a star too, I can tell you. I never got a condition, but once I was warned and I had several low-grades. I was just awfully ashamed of them. I hate messing things.” Babe paused, suddenly remembering that Babbie had said vaguely that Mr. Dwight was coaching John Morton for some examinations, and that John had spoken of having work to do. “I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings,” she murmured. “Babbie said you were studying—you said—well, anyhow I never thought that maybe you’d flunked some courses. I’m sorry. Call it quits for what you said about my walk, won’t you?”