"None of that!" shouted the other girl. "This dress makes me sick, when I look at yours!"
Marjorie perceived the jealousy in Frieda's eyes, and hastened to change the subject.
"Will you go out in my canoe with me now?"
"Nope! Not in this rig!"
"But Frieda——"
"If you like it so much," she interrupted, "you wear it—and give me yours!"
Now Marjorie's pink voile was one of her favorite dresses, and she had counted upon wearing it in the evenings all winter. But it was not really expensive, and she felt that she would gladly part with it if it would effect a reconciliation. The sweater would be a weightier matter; it had been a birthday gift from her father. Still, she would sacrifice that, too, on the altar of this, her greatest desire of the present time.
She considered making a bargain and extracting a promise of friendship from the girl, but this, she felt, might antagonize her. So she merely said,
"All right, Frieda; but you can't wear this to school. I'll wear yours back to the dormitory, and then I'll put on another dress and give this back to you again."
Frieda could hardly believe her ears when she saw Marjorie actually take off her sweater and start to unfasten her dress. Then she clapped her hands with delight; she was not so uncivilized as to lack the feminine characteristic of love of pretty clothing.