“Of course,” said Betty, and they settled themselves together a moment later for the short ride.
“You never come to see me, Betty,” Miss Hale began, when they were seated.
“I’m afraid to,” confessed Betty sheepishly. “When you’re a faculty and I’m only a freshman.”
“Nonsense,” laughed Miss Hale. Then she glanced at Eleanor, who sat several seats in front of them, and changed the subject abruptly. “What sort of girl is Miss Watson?” she asked.
Betty laughed. “All sorts, I think,” she said. “I never knew any one who could be so nice one minute and so trying the next.”
“How do you happen to know her well?” pursued Miss Hale seriously.
Betty explained.
“And you think that on the whole she’s worth while?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand—” Betty was beginning to feel as if she was taking an examination on Eleanor’s characteristics.
“You think that on the whole she’s more good than bad; and that there’s something to her, besides beauty. That’s all I want to know. She is lovely, isn’t she?”