The lustrous eyes opened wide. "Why, you mean to say you don't know? Thought you knew I was named after the governor. And she's named after hers—Frances, from Francis, you know—just the difference in a letter. See?"
"Frances!" I murmured lingeringly. "So your name's Frances?"
"Yes, and hers is Frances—odd, isn't it?"
I assented, but I wished she would drop the other girl—I wasn't interested there, except just because she was.
Her bosom lifted with a sigh. "Don't you think Frances is a peach of a name?"
"It's heavenly!" I whispered. "And I'm glad to hear about your friend, too."
Her sweet face clouded. "Not much of a friend; she don't lose any sleep over me," she commented gloomily. "Then there's Sis double-crossing me with her influence ever since I got hauled up before Prexy at Easter. Sis is awfully prissy."
Her tone was almost savage. I strained incredulously after her meaning.
"Did I understand you to say you were brought up before the president there at Radcliffe?"
"Radcliffe?" Her head shook. "No—Harvard." And I nodded, recalling the affiliation between the two institutions at Cambridge.