“Poor Richardson! How he would be horrified to see us modern girls going to college! You must belong to sentimental families to have those names.”
“I was named for my aunt,” explained Pamela with dignity.
“Well, I’m afraid that my mother took ‘Clarissa’ from a novel,” admitted the Western girl.
After leaving Fay House, the two others walked with Julia toward Brattle Street. They had gone but a short distance when Clarissa exclaimed with surprise that it was nearly one o’clock.
“My luncheon is at half-past one,” said Julia, “but perhaps yours is earlier.”
“Yes, at my boarding-house we are very plebeian. At one o’clock we have dinner, not luncheon, while you, I dare say, have dinner at half-past six.”
“Of course,” replied Julia, while Clarissa, echoing “of course,” added, “Then you must be a regular swell. But I thought that I’d feel better to find a boarding-place in Cambridge, where their manners and customs are like ours at home.”
Not to leave Pamela out of the conversation, Julia asked her if she had found a boarding-place, and Pamela replied that she had not yet decided on a house. She might have added that all the rooms that thus far she had seen were beyond her slender purse. Before they reached Julia’s door, Pamela bade the others good-bye.
“She’s almost too good, isn’t she?” was Clarissa’s comment as Pamela disappeared in the distance.
“I like her,” returned Julia, begging the question.