"What's the matter, Judy?" whispered Nancy, as they went into the drawing-room, for Judith not only felt miserable, she looked miserable—so much so that Miss Meredith made a mental note to ask Miss Marlowe to keep an eye on her and find out if anything were troubling her.
"Nothing's the matter," said Judith coldly, turning away and calling out to Frances to wait for her.
Nancy felt rebuffed, but loyally sought to find excuses for her friend. "She's been working too hard over that Jessica essay," she said to herself; "she looks awfully tired."
Then followed a miserable week. Judith was both jealous and angry; she felt that in telling Sally May what she had said about Tim, Nancy had betrayed their friendship. It was true that Nancy and Sally May were much together; they were making scenery for the Studio Play and were spending many spare hours upstairs working under Miss Ashwell's direction. Judith knew about the play, but she was too angry to be reasonable, so she shut herself up in her books and avoided Nancy as much as possible.
Nancy knew quite well now that something had come between Judith and her, and she made two more attempts to find out what was wrong so that if possible things might be righted, but each time Judith rebuffed her, and Nancy was too busy to spend much time coaxing. Sally May, who was held to be a wise little person, told Nancy not to worry.
"Judy'll be all right; she is just cross and tired. I really can't see why she works so hard."
Sally May, it may be remarked, would never work very hard as long as she lived: she wasn't that kind.
"Did you hear Judith give Jane what-for the other day?" she continued. "Jane went into Judy's cubicle with an orange peel and an old piece of rubber cut in the shape of a heart, and called out, 'What price for these personal relics of our beloved Captain Catherine? Her pretty foot has pressed this piece of rubber; it can be conveniently sewed to the camisole and worn next the heart. Her pretty lips once touched this piece of peel'—and she dangled the peel right in front of Judy's eyes. 'Get out of my room quick,' said our polite little Judy, 'and take your garbage with you!' Jane said it gave her a nasty turn. It's my belief that Judy wants to come first in history or something, and she wants to be left alone to study."
Nancy was only half-convinced, but the easiest thing was to accept Sally May's explanation. Nancy had many friends and she was able to love them all. She found it hard to understand Judith's exclusive attitude. Judith wanted but one friend at a time; she might admire Josephine and Sally May and enjoy Jane's pertness and Joyce's cleverness and adore Catherine's beauty, but Nancy was her friend, her pal, and she wanted Nancy to feel the same about her. But Nancy was differently made, and although Judith had come to be perhaps her best friend in the school, she was able to feel genuine affection for many other girls and would have been incapable of Judith's passionate jealousy because of her affection for some one else.
Meanwhile Judith's hurt decreased not at all. It may take a poet to sing adequately of "the wounds by friendship made," but a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, if she be blessed or cursed by her fairy godmothers with a sensitive soul, can feel those wounds and feel them bitterly.