“It’s comical, isn’t it, to see those woe-begone faces erstwhile so gay and cheerful?” said Clarissa, meeting Julia one morning in January at the foot of the main stairs of Fay House. “Let us stand here and watch the martyrs pass.”
“Laughing at your fellow sufferers!” responded Julia; “surely you are not out of misery yourself.”
“No, indeed, I have two more; but I’d rather die with my boots on, as the miners say, than be killed by inches. Now just look there!”
As Clarissa spoke two girls approached, one stumbling along with her eyes fixed on a book, the other wearing dark green glasses that made her pale face look almost ghostly.
“You can’t pass without speaking!” Clarissa’s voice compelled attention, and the girl with the book looked up, showing the usually bright face of Elspeth Gray, while the girl in glasses responded in the accents of Polly Porson.
“I’m nearly dead, I really am, with one examination to-day and another to-morrow! I had a perfectly lovely time the first week, for not one of my mid-years came early. I went to two matinées and a Symphony Concert, had a girl from New York over to spend the week with me; but the next week when I began to study I found I’d lost the taste for cramming, and I’ve sat up nights since. It was three A.M. when I went to bed last night, or this morning—which was it?—and my eyes are nearly wrecked.”
Polly from a seat on the stairs looked up at Clarissa, who was standing in front of her.
“I’m glad that I can’t see very well,” she continued. “I should hate to discover that you were laughing at me, Clarissa.”
“Well, I do think that you are very silly.” Clarissa drew herself up. “Look at me! I’ve gained two pounds since the first of January.”
“Why! haven’t you had to work? You are an exception, and this is only your first year, too.”