“Ah, she reads like—like—a bird,” said Clarissa magnanimously.
“You couldn’t honestly say ‘like an angel,’” said Julia, and Clarissa shook her head.
How long this unpremeditated performance might have continued no one can say. Before Annabel could recite again the President came forward, announcing firmly that the play was to begin. On Annabel’s face as she withdrew there was a decidedly aggrieved expression. Nevertheless, when she appeared in the play she looked as cheerful as her wont, and said her lines in a melodious voice. Ruth was a middle-aged Englishwoman, with a becoming lace cap. The girl who played a man’s part wore high boots and a long drab coat, the skirts of which came below the tops of her boots.
The setting was good, the dialogue bright, and the audience at last dispersed with the feeling that the whole performance had been a great success.
“Who was that tall girl who passed us?” asked Julia, when the play was over.
“I am sure I do not know, at least I did not notice her.”
“I always feel,” Julia continued, “as if all the Alumnæ are acquainted. But I can see that it would be hard for them all to know one another. The girl that I speak of was tall and rather awkward, and she pushed her way through the crowd without speaking to a soul.”
“Oh, she may have been a friend of some one in the play. Each was allowed to invite a guest from outside. Somebody told me that Annabel Harmon thought that they might have been permitted to ask men.”
“Yes, because she thought that she would look particularly fetching. For a sensible girl, she is certainly almost as vain as they make them.”
“What is the objection to men spectators? The costumes are harmless enough, compared with what they were in my day,” said the graduate.