"But why don't you write as you talk?" argued Tilly.
"Or as you do in the Chronicles?" added Cordelia. "You write just beautifully there."
"But, Cordelia, that isn't printed," cried Genevieve, again, as they came in sight of the school building and saw Elsie Martin coming to meet them.
At the doorway of the classroom Cordelia whispered to Genevieve:
"Please wait after school for me. I'll tell you then—about the missionary work, you know." And Genevieve nodded assent.
Once or twice during the day, Genevieve wondered what Cordelia's missionary work could be; but for the most part study and recitation filled her thoughts and time. Mid-year examinations were approaching, and, in spite of the fact that she had been doing much better work for the last month, she felt by no means sure of herself for the dreaded ordeal. It was of this she was thinking when she met Cordelia according to agreement at the close of the short afternoon session.
"Here I am, dear," she sighed; "but, really, I reckon I'm the one that needs the missionary work if any one does—with those horrid exams looming up before me."
"Oh, but you've been doing such splendid work—lately!" cried Cordelia.
"Thank you," retorted Genevieve, wrinkling up her nose saucily at the pause before the "lately." "I perceive you still know how to tell the truth, Miss!"
"Genevieve!" protested Cordelia.