“Perhaps many would not think it fame, even if they should distinguish themselves on our Auditorium stage.”
“Then they look at things with a jaundiced eye. Already there are traditions—I have heard them myself—about girls who have acted in our college plays,” said Clarissa, “and the greatest were the girls who made up best in men’s parts.”
“There, Polly,” cried the Sophomore, “you must be on the high road to glory, for,” turning to Clarissa, “you have probably heard that she is our very best man. Last year she just brought down the house. You really ought to see her; she’s immense.”
“That’s more than you are most of the time,” and Clarissa turned to Polly. “What do you wear, seven league boots, or something of that kind?”
“Not exactly,” replied Polly, “though if you’ll come round to my room sometime I’ll show you some of my properties.”
“They’d be worth seeing,” said the Sophomore, “especially if you’ve kept that gold-laced coat, Polly, and the high boots.”
“’Deed I have,” replied Polly; “the boots are likely to be in more than one play before summer. I’m promised for at least two.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” cried Clarissa. “You are the very kind of girl to act well. I’ve overheard you taking people off once or twice in the conversation room, and you hit them to the life.”
Polly reddened a trifle at Clarissa’s words. It flashed through her mind that she had sometimes mimicked Clarissa, and she hoped that this was not what the Western girl had overheard.
There was no trace of resentment in Clarissa’s face, though Polly made a mental note that after this she would not entertain her friends with her impersonations outside of her own room.