“Apparently she hasn’t any, or if she has, they’re as out of things as she is.”
“Well, to the other girls then.”
“When girls are happy they are cruel,” said Miss Mills briefly, “or perhaps they’re only careless.”
Betty, after a week’s consideration, put the matter even more specifically. “I tried to make her over because I wanted a different kind of roommate,” she said, “and we all let her see that we were sorry for her. Miss Mills made her feel as if—”
“She had her dance card full and was splitting her waltzes,” supplied Mary, who was just back from an afternoon at Winsted.
“Exactly like that,” agreed Betty, laughing. “I wish I’d done it,” she added wistfully.
“You kept her going till her chance came,” said Mary. “She owes a lot to you, and she knows it.”
“Don’t,” protested Betty, flushing. “I tell you, I was only thinking of myself when I tried to fix her up, and then after a while I got tired of her and let her alone. I was horrid, but she’s forgiven me and we’re real friends now.”
“Well, we can’t do but so much apiece,” said Mary practically. “And I’ve noticed that ‘jam,’ as your valentine girl called it, is a mighty hard thing to give to people who really need it.”
Nevertheless the gift had been managed in Helen’s case; she had gotten her start at last. Miss Mills’s tactful little attention had furnished her with the hope and courage that she lacked, had given her back the self-confidence that Caroline Barnes had wounded. Whatever the girls might think, she knew she was “somebody” now, and she would go ahead and prove it. She could, too–she no longer doubted her possession of the college girl’s one talent that Betty had laughed about. For there was Theresa Reed, her friend down the street. She was homely and awkward, she wore dowdy clothes and wore them badly, she was slow and plodding; but there was one thing that she could do, and the girls admired her for it and had instantly made a place for her. Helen was glad of a second proof that those things did not matter vitally. She set herself happily to work to study T. Reed’s methods, and she began to look forward to the freshman-sophomore game as eagerly as did Betty or Katherine.