“Well, are you awfully devoted to Miss Mills?” pursued Mary. “Is that why she asked you?”
Helen shook her head. “I like her. She reads beautifully and sometimes she says very interesting things, doesn’t she, Betty?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” answered her roommate hastily.
“Well, I think she does, but I never told her I thought so. It couldn’t be that.”
“Then why did she ask you?” demanded Mary.
“I suppose because she wanted me,” said Helen happily. “I can’t think of any other reason. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Yes indeed,” agreed Mary. “It’s so grand that I’m going off this minute to tell everybody in the house about it. They’ll be dreadfully envious,” and she left the roommates alone.
Helen pulled off her best gloves carefully, and laid them neatly away, then she put up her hat and coat and sat down in her favorite wicker chair. “I guess I left the room in a dreadful muss this noon,” she said apologetically. “I guess I acted silly and excited, but you see–I said I hadn’t been out often–this is the very first time I’ve been invited out to a meal since I came to Harding.”
“Really?” said Betty, thinking guiltily of her own multitude of invitations.
“Yes, I hoped you hadn’t any of you noticed it. I hate to be pitied. Now you can just like me.”