Everybody’s face was covered with smiles; everybody’s voice was bright with gladness; but, through all those blithesome moments, in the depths of one girl’s heart, was running an undercurrent of feeling that no one guessed.
She kept it hidden until she and Aunt Sula were quite alone at home. Then she put both hands on the little woman’s shoulders, and said, in a low voice.
“Tia, I saw you when they gave Louise that scholarship. I saw the look on your face. It was just a look of yearning envy, and Tia—don’t deny it!—it was because you knew my first year’s marks were so low that I couldn’t get the scholarship, now, no matter how I might try, the rest of the time. There isn’t any chance to get it, now, and oh—the reason I feel the worst is because I can’t help knowing that my sorority has lost me the chance!”
She hid her face on Aunt Sula’s shoulder. “I don’t know how Louise ever managed to be a sorority girl and a good student, too,” she murmured. “The rest of us can’t. Tia, I believe I’d give up anything if I could only get back the chance of winning that scholarship—for you!”
Aunt Sula patted her tenderly. “There’s something I care for more than scholarships, Jacquette,” she said, cheerily, “and you haven’t lost your chance for that. It’s the development of character; learning to see things in their relative proportions—and to choose the best things. That stands before high marks, I think, though high marks are almost sure to be a part of it.”
There was silence for a minute; then Jacquette lifted her face. “Do you mean,” she asked, doubtfully, “that if I were to try just as hard, in studies and deportment, from now on, as if I were working for that scholarship with a real chance of winning, it would be worth as much as the scholarship itself, to you?”
“More!”
Jacquette’s hand moved toward her heart, and drew back, irresolute.
“Tia,” she begged, her voice breaking, “do you believe it’s actually true, as the girls say, that if I resign from Sigma Pi, I won’t have any friends in school—not one?”
She stood, in the white gown she had worn that evening, all unconscious of the commanding power of her youth and sweetness, and the little woman who loved her with a great love, looked up into her face. “No,” she answered emphatically. “It is not true!”