“There can be,” interrupted Jasper J. Morton oracularly, “and there shall be, if we have to put an annex to accommodate them. Miss B. A., you’ll ruin me if you keep on at this rate. I presume I’m expected to install typewriters and sewing-machines. They’re part of the fixtures, aren’t they, Watson? If I say so they are? Well, I do say so, provided Miss B. A. accepts that proposal from—— See here, Mr. President, why don’t you take her off in a quiet corner and tell her what you want of her?”
Betty blushed violently at the idea of giving such summary advice to the great Prexy.
“Please don’t hurry,” she begged. “You can tell me what you want to any time, President Wallace. Mr. Morton is always in such a rush to get things settled himself; he doesn’t realize that other people don’t feel the same way.”
“Don’t I realize it?” snorted Mr. Morton indignantly. “Haven’t I spent half my life hunting for people that can keep my pace? But I beg your pardon, Mr. President, if I seemed to dictate or to meddle in your personal affairs.”
Prexy’s eyes twinkled. “That’s all right, Mr. Morton. Let’s give him his way this time, Miss Wales, as long as we’ve got ours about the ploshkin. Come and sit on that broad and inviting window-seat, and hear what we want you to do for us.”
It was an amazing proposal, though Prexy made it in the calmest and most matter-of-fact way. The Student’s Aid Association, it seemed, had reorganized at its commencement meeting, had received a substantial endowment fund—so much Betty already knew—and had since decided to employ a paid secretary to direct its work and to look after the interests of the self-supporting students. It had occurred to President Wallace that the right place for the secretary to live was in Morton Hall, and to the directors that the right person to act as secretary was Betty Wales.
“The salary is small,” explained Prexy, “but the duties at first will be light, I should think. I assume that you will be in Harding in any case, to supervise your tea-shop enterprise. Now this salary will pay several extra helpers there, and give you time for an occupation that may be more congenial and that will certainly be of real help to the girls you have always wanted to help—to the whole college also, I hope. Living in this hall instead of the regular house teacher, you will have a chance to keep in touch with us as you could not off the campus, and you will still be reasonably near to the famous Tally-ho Tea-Shop.”
When he had finished, Betty continued to stare at him in bewildered silence. “How does it strike you, Miss Wales?” he asked, with an encouraging smile.
Betty “came to” with a frightened little gasp.
“Why, I—I—it strikes me as too big to take in all at once, and much, much too splendid for me, President Wallace. I should just love to do it, of course. But I can’t imagine myself doing it. Now Christy Mason or Emily or Rachel Morrison—I could imagine them doing it beautifully, but not me—I—me. Oh, dear!” Betty stopped in complete confusion.