“What in the world do you mean by cram?” inquired Marie blankly.
Connie explained, and Marie gave a despairing sigh. “Blanket your windows, or get a special permit from the matron, drink coffee, tie a wet towel around your head, and study till three A. M.,” she repeated aghast. “Well, I guess I will go right to bed. Just the thought of this cramming prospect makes me tired. Is it compulsory?”
Connie explained the official disapproval of cramming, and then quoted the famous rhyme about the luckless wight who
“did not hurry
Nor sit up late to cram.
She did not even worry
But—she failed in her exam.”
“I see,” said Montana Marie briefly. The next morning she went down-town and bought a copper coffee-maker. It matched her chafing-dish, added greatly to the elegance of her tea-table, and was the envy of every Morton Hallite. Montana Marie listened politely to the popular chorus of admiration, and said nothing about the real reasons which had actuated her extravagant purchase.
Betty Wales knew nothing about the coffee-maker, or Connie’s ideas on cramming; but she was quite as worried about her protégée’s prospects as Montana Marie could possibly be herself.
“The poor thing is perfectly sure she’s going to flunk,” she told the B. C. A.’s at a special tea-drinking called by Mary to discuss the impending crisis.