"Oh, but Cordelia, that isn't quite fair," she began impulsively; but for once Cordelia forgot her politeness and interrupted.
"Don't you worry, Genevieve," she laughed gayly. "I've said lovely things of Texas. You'd know I'd do that, Genevieve, even if I do love Sunbridge. I did worry at first for fear somebody else had taken the same subject—some of you girls—you know we can't have two about the same thing."
"But—" The bell rang for the close of recess, and again one of Genevieve's sentences remained unfinished.
Genevieve did not stop even to speak to any of the girls after school that day. She went home at once. Even Harold Day, who overtook her, found her so absorbed in her own thoughts that she was anything but her usual talkative self.
Once in the house, Genevieve went straight to Mrs. Kennedy.
"Aunt Julia, if you get a prize subject first, it's yours, isn't it?" she asked tremulously.
"Why, y-yes, dear; I should think so."
"Well, Aunt Julia, something perfectly awful has happened. Cordelia has got my subject."
"Oh, Genevieve, I'm so sorry!" Mrs. Kennedy's face showed more than ordinary distress—Mrs. Kennedy had had high hopes of this prize paper. "Why, how did it happen?"
"I don't know. I suppose it was just in the air. But I got it first. She says she didn't think of it till May first. So of course it's—it's mine, Aunt Julia."