“Oh, I’ve noticed that life is a pretty even thing in the end,” returned Mary, relieved that there was no present call on her sympathies, “but I must confess I don’t see how one dinner invitation, even if it is from—”
Just then Helen tapped on the door.
Down in Miss Mills’s room they were discussing much the same point.
“It’s a shame for you to waste your Sundays over these children,” said Miss Hale.
Miss Mills stopped her tea-making to dissent. “It isn’t wasted if she cared. She was so still that I couldn’t be sure, but judging from the length of time she stayed—”
“She was smiling all over her face when we met her,” interrupted Miss Meredith. “Who is she, anyway?”
“Oh, just nobody in particular,” laughed Miss Mills, “just a forlorn little freshman named Adams.”
“But I don’t quite see how—” began Miss Hale.
“Oh, you wouldn’t,” said Miss Mills easily. “You were president of your class when you were a freshman. I was nobody in particular, and I know what it’s like.”
“But why not leave it to her friends to hearten her up?”