While Roberta was considering the probability that they would, Betty knocked her soft little knock on the door. Roberta always knew Betty’s knock.
“Come,” she called in a queer, trembly voice. How was she ever going to thank Betty for seeing what no one else saw, and helping her to stick to it and get her chance in a nice quiet way that wouldn’t make her feel awkward if she failed?
But Betty didn’t give her time to open her mouth. “You dear old thing!” she cried. “Oh, I am so happy! I never thought you’d get it. Honestly, I didn’t. I just thought you might as well try. Roberta, you ought to hear the things Mr. Masters has been saying about you.”
Roberta laughed happily. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” she said. “Didn’t you think I could get a part? You were the one who told me I ought to try.”
“Yes,” said Betty solemnly, “I thought you’d get one of the Sals probably—you know the ones I mean,—Solanio, and the others that sound like him. We call them the Sals for short, I never dreamed of your being Shylock, any more than I planned for you to be Ermengarde. You did it every bit yourself, Roberta Lewis, by just happening to come around at the right times.”
“And by coming to the right person,” added Roberta.
But Betty only laughed at her. “It’s bad enough to be blamed for things you’ve done,” she said. “I simply won’t be praised for things I haven’t done. I never was so pleased in my life. Roberta, Miss Kingston says you’re a genius. To think of my knowing a genius! I must go and tell Helen Chase Adams.”
Down-stairs Madeline was telephoning to Clara Madison, who, owing to her strong prejudice against bed-making, still lived off the campus. “A dark horse,” she explained, “is a person like Roberta Lewis. I didn’t have time to tell you this morning. Good-b——Oh! haven’t you heard? She’s going to be Shylock. No, the committee haven’t announced it yet, but Mr. Masters shouted it aloud in the corridor at college hall. Don’t forget what a dark horse is, Clara.”
The B’s, innocently supposing that Roberta was out because her windows were dark, were celebrating in Nita’s room, while they awaited her return. This meant that Babbie was doing a cake-walk with an imaginary partner, Babe a clog-dance, and Bob a highland fling, while Nita hugged her tallest vase and her prettiest teacup and besought them to stop before Mrs. Kent came to see who was tearing the house down.
Bob stopped first, though not on account of Nita’s bric-a-brac or a possible visit from Mrs. Kent.