“Do you mean—” began Betty and stopped, not wanting to risk hurting Miss Davis’s feelings.
“Yes, I mean that I’m working my way through. I have a scholarship, but there’s still my board and clothes and books.”
“And you do it all?”
Miss Davis nodded. “My cousin sends me some clothes.”
“How do you do it, please?”
“Tutor, sort papers and make typewritten copies of things for the faculty, put on dress braids (that’s how I met the B’s), mend stockings, and wait on table off and on when some one’s maid leaves suddenly. We thought it would be cheaper and pleasanter to board ourselves and earn our money in different ways than to take our board in exchange for regular table-waiting; but I don’t know. The other way is surer.”
“You mean you don’t find work enough?”
Miss Davis nodded. “It takes a good deal,” she said apologetically, “and there isn’t much tutoring that freshmen can do. After this year it will be easier.”
“Dear me,” gasped Betty. “Don’t you get any–any help from home?”
“Well, they haven’t been able to send any yet, but they hope to later,” said Miss Davis brightly.