“These rooms look countrified compared with the Vassar room. Why, there, although they always have the same room, each Senior class refurnishes it. Even the wall hangings are changed. This year instead of paper they have put on a painted burlap, stencilled in gold, which cost nearly two hundred dollars; and the furniture and bronzes and oil paintings, although many of these things are simply lent by Seniors for the year, would make your eyes open, you simple-minded Radcliffeites.”
“Plain living and high thinking is the rule at Cambridge,” responded Ruth, who happened to be one of the group to whom she spoke. “Come, Elspeth, don’t join the crowd that is sighing for a porter’s lodge, or a boy in buttons, or some similar luxury here at Radcliffe.”
“Dear child,” and Elspeth drew herself to her full height, “I did not say, did I, that I preferred the elegance of Vassar and Bryn Mawr, but we haven’t even any palms, such as they have at Wellesley, or—”
“Well, we have historic associations. There’s the Washington Elm, almost under our eyes, and we’re so nearly a part of Harvard that we can look back on a long and honorable past, even if we have less than twenty years of our own to count up.”
The spring would have been altogether perfect for Julia but for her estrangement from Ruth. It was hard to approach Ruth on the subject, because there had been no open break between them, and because Ruth gave her no chance to seek or make an explanation. They still had their rooms together, but Ruth always studied by herself in her own room. Occasionally on Mondays Ruth appeared, but she was oftener absent when Julia was entertaining those girls who dropped in. As Nora was only a Special, she was in Cambridge little except for recitations. Yet she had noticed the coolness between the two, who at Miss Crawdon’s school had been great friends. She could not help observing, too, that Ruth was never at Mrs. Barlow’s on Saturday and Sunday, when Julia and Brenda were so apt to have their friends about them. Ruth, to be sure, always pleaded that she must spend as much time as possible with her mother, who had been abroad in search of health during Ruth’s first two college years. She was still an invalid; and although Nora knew that Ruth naturally wished to be with her, this explanation did not wholly account for the coolness between Ruth and Julia.
From Julia she at last drew an account of the affair of the telegram, and the injury done to Polly.
“It isn’t altogether what Ruth did, but it’s her indifference that has disturbed me so,” said Julia.
“Perhaps she didn’t do it; perhaps there’s some explanation about the telegram. Really, Julia Bourne, I did not think that you could be so unreasonable. But I’m not altogether sorry,” she continued, smiling, “that you have shown yourself just a little less perfect than we thought you. I used to think you absolutely reasonable, but now—”
“Well, if you ever had so foolish an opinion of me, I’m glad that something has happened to remove it.”
“I must tell Brenda,” added Nora, as she bade Julia good-bye. “She’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve picked a flaw in her perfect cousin. Secretly, I believe that she thinks you almost too perfect.”