As the joking went on, Jacquette knew, whether she looked at Bobs or not, that his eyes were almost constantly on her. She wondered why. It flattered and embarrassed her at the same time, and she was glad and sorry when Louise proposed to go. A moment later, in brushing past him on her way out, she was astonished to have him slip a folded note into her hand.
“Louise, he’s written something to me!” she exclaimed, as soon as they reached the street. “Let’s see what it says.”
She unfolded the paper and together the two girls read:
“Will you let me walk home with you after school?
“Bobs.”
“Do I know him well enough? Say yes, Louise!” Jacquette demanded. “Blanche Gross introduced him to me the day after that Indian performance and I’ve talked with him in the halls some, since then, but I never dreamed of his giving me a second thought, when he’s so popular, and I’m just a freshman. Blanche says he has the dandiest morals of any boy she knows. What do you think, Louise?”
“Oh, he’s nice. I’ve known him all my life and his mother is one of our best friends, but he’s not a Beta Sig, and Quis isn’t going to like it if you choose friends outside of his frat.”
“H’m! Quis doesn’t own me. Besides, I have to treat all fraternities alike, according to the bargain with Aunt Sula,” Jacquette declared, virtuously, and immediately began to compose her reply to Bobs.
That reply consumed a large part of the study-hour following. The momentous questions involved were: first, how to begin; second, what to say; third, how to end.
If Bobs were any other boy, it would be right to call him “Mr.,” but no one in the school said “Mr. Drake.” Everyone said “Bobs.” His real name was Robin Sidney Drake, but that was absurd for Bobs! Besides, he had signed himself “Bobs.”
Meantime a procession of Aunt Sula’s admonitions in regard to writing notes to boys haunted Jacquette like ghosts, and made her tear up effort after effort. When the last was finally completed it read as follows: