“Once,” chuckled Mary. “But I found they didn’t have ice-cream, because the matron doesn’t approve of buying things on Sunday; so I’ve turned them down ever since.”
Helen laughed merrily. “How funny! I never missed it!” There was a becoming flush on her cheeks, a pretty new confidence in her manner.
“Helen, who did you say asked you to the Westcott?” inquired Betty.
“I didn’t say, because you didn’t ask me,” returned Helen truthfully, “but it was Miss Mills.”
“Miss Mills!” repeated Mary. “Well, my child, I don’t wonder that you were rattled this noon, being invited around by the faculty. Gracious, what a compliment to a young freshman!”
“I should think so!” chimed in Betty eagerly.
In spite of her embarrassment Helen evidently enjoyed the sensation she was producing. “I thought it was awfully nice,” she said.
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” demanded Mary. “Why, child, you must be a bright and shining shark in lit.”
Helen’s happy face clouded suddenly. “I’m not, am I, Betty?” she asked appealingly.
Betty laughed. “Why no, since you ask me. No, she isn’t, Mary. She sits on the back row with me and we don’t either of us say an extra word. It’s math, and Latin and Greek that Helen shines in.”