“It’s awfully clever,” she said. “All her stories sound so knowing, some way, as if she had seen and done lots of unusual story-book sort of things. They have what Miss Raymond calls atmosphere and the note of reality.”
“Yes,” said Miss Bond.
“She’s in your class, isn’t she?” Betty rattled on. “Do you know her?”
“Yes, I know her.”
“Is she really as unusual and fascinating as her stories seem?” Betty pursued.
“I consider her one of the most commonplace girls in Harding,” said Miss Bond stolidly.
“Well, at least you’ve at last said something besides yes and no,” Betty reflected, and turned the talk to Binks, the infirmary régime, and finally to campus life.
When at last, having decided that nothing was to be gained by delay, she made her suggestion about Miss Bond’s coming into Morton Hall, the Mystery laughed a queer, rasping laugh.
“I knew that’s what you were getting at,” she said. “You’re the new secretary. I’m not so out of things that I don’t know that.”
“And you’ll come?” Betty asked cordially.