“I know it, and Stella wants the ‘prestige’ of rooming with you, Cad. Stella is one little worker for prominence!”
Due to Madge’s meeting with Miss Schiff, Shirley’s slumbers were not disturbed by any inrushing room-mate. She expected it, dozing uneasily for a while, but as the medicine which she had taken for her headache began to take effect and she felt more comfortable, she fell into a deep slumber.
When Madge Whitney entered, she did so quietly, though she was obliged to put on her electric light. She tiptoed around, finding everything that she needed, and looking curiously toward the bed in which Shirley lay without stirring. Madge saw the shining gold of the hair that spread over the pillow, but only a cheek and a very pretty arm and hand that had been tossed free of the covers could be distinguished.
A lake breeze was coming in quite coolly now from the two open windows. Madge shut the one nearest the beds partly down, and though she did not dare to touch her room-mate, she drew up the bathrobe that lay across the foot of the bed and put a corner of it over the arm and shoulder, as she had sometimes found that her mother had done for her. Then she put out the light and undressed by only the dim light which came in from the hall through the door set ajar for the purpose. Shirley was a fortunate girl to have so thoughtful a room-mate waiting, though, it must be acknowledged that Madge might not have thought of this had it not been for considerable interest and curiosity. Some way, that hand looked familiar. But hands were much alike!
In the morning Shirley woke wondering where she was after a dream of mountain climbing. But the headache was gone. A renewed Shirley sat up in bed and looked around. Why, this was fine. Here she was at last. Why should she worry about lessons? They would be good to her and let her make them up as she could. She naturally looked first at the stirring form in the other bed. The rising gong was ringing loudly.
A flying mop of curly black hair was all that Shirley could see; but hands were raised to rub a pair of sleepy eyes, as the girl turned over on her back, trying to wink those same blue eyes open.
“Good morning,” clearly and pleasantly said Shirley. “Is this the Miss Madge Whitney with whom Miss Schiff said I was to room?”
“It certainly is,” replied Madge, “and I suppose that you are Shirley Harcourt.”
“Yes,” said Shirley.
The blue eyes came open, after a last blink, and suddenly Madge set up. “Why, the idea! Was it you, Sidney Thorne, all the time, here in my room in bed last night? And to think that I covered up your shoulder and tiptoed around and put the light out and everything! What became of the other girl? And why on earth,—?” But Madge stopped and stared again.