Binks did not forget to come for tea with Georgia and Georgia’s friends. She arrived on time, and becomingly dressed. She listened with gratifying appreciation to the sprightly conversation kept up by Fluffy and Susanna Hart, with some help from the others. She talked enough to be agreeable, and not enough to seem overanxious to make a favorable impression on the leading spirits of Dramatic Club, who could “make” her career at Harding, if they thought it worth while to include her in the enchanted company of the sophomores who “went in” at the first sophomore election.
As a matter of fact Binks did not know that the tea-drinkers all belonged to Dramatic Club. She did not guess why she had been asked to the tea-drinking. She had indeed entirely forgotten Dramatic Club, and had never given a second thought to Georgia’s question about her wanting to be elected to it.
Georgia, being a close observer, saw all this, and made up her mind to work hard for Binks’s election. Her little cousin’s extreme unworldliness made her seem to the straightforward, clear-headed Georgia a rather pathetic object, to be looked out for and defended, and secured the rights and privileges that she herself did not know enough to demand. And, as what Georgia said always “went” with her large and very influential circle of friends, Binks was promptly slated as one of the fortunate sophomores whom Dramatic Club was to single out as those most wanted in its councils.
While this was being decided casually on the way up the Belden House stairs, Binks was sitting alone in her little room, staring out with troubled eyes at a lovely wind-tossed sunset.
“Shouldn’t have said I’d do it, I suppose,” murmured poor Binks. “Only I hate to say no. Georgia would call me a silly! Wish I’d told Georgia all about it. I didn’t have any chance to talk to her alone. But I might have made a chance—perhaps. Georgia knows Miss Wales better, and anyway she doesn’t mind asking people to do things. Oh—come in!”
The door opened slowly and the poetess, looking tired and out of temper, came in. “I wanted you to go walking,” she said reproachfully. “I came at four as usual, and you were out.”
“But yesterday I stayed in for you, and you didn’t come at all,” explained Binks patiently. “And I left a note on the bulletin-board about to-day.”
“You know I never look at the bulletin-board,” returned the poetess sadly.
“But you ought to,” began Binks, and stopped short. “Never mind. Let’s not bother over what’s past. Do you want to go walking some more, or would you rather just sit here and watch the sunset?”
Miss Ellison stared gloomily out the window. “I’m too tired to walk any more. That divan looks awfully comfortable.”