It was the Thursday before Class Day, a clear morning, almost cool, with just a suggestion of coming warmth in the air. Martine sank into a chair by the open window, and gazed over the tops of the trees at the long vista of the Avenue. Not for a moment would she have admitted that she was tired, and yet there was a trace of weariness in the sigh with which she sank back in the comfortable easy chair.
As a matter of fact she had been working with a degree of energy that she had seldom shown before. Martine had never been accused of laziness, even in her idler days, yet her energy had never been expended in the prosaic realm of household work. But now the situation was changed, and for the past week she had worked unremittingly, packing, clearing, doing all kinds of little things that would simplify the departure for York a week later. Angelina, it is true, had helped her to the best of her ability, and had even succeeded in subduing some of her own natural flightiness. She was proud of her present position as sole assistant in the little household, and the prospect of continued hard work during the summer in no way troubled her.
If Martine was weary on this particular morning, her weariness was tempered with satisfaction. Everything had gone so smoothly that she would be able to enjoy Class Day without disagreeable remembrances of things left undone.
While she sat by the window, thoroughly enjoying her well-earned rest, she was startled for a moment by feeling two soft hands clasped over her eyes. Before she had had time to wonder long, a soft laugh told her who the newcomer was.
"Why, Elinor Naylor, where in the world—"
"Straight from Bar Harbor," said Elinor, answering the unfinished question, "that is, we arrived early last evening, and I've come here directly from the hotel. Kate Starkweather's brother has a large spread to-morrow, and though I had not intended to come, mamma thinks I ought to see at least one Harvard Class Day—and so here I am."
For a few moments the two talked as rapidly as friends will who have not seen each other for weeks. Elinor told her Class Day plans, and tried to arrange to meet Martine after the statue exercises.
"I do not expect to see very much of Class Day," said Martine, "it would be different if Lucian were here. I am going with Amy to Fritz Tomkins' spread, and to the Pudding because Hazen Andrews is in it. His mother is one of mamma's friends in Chicago. Mrs. Blair thinks I ought to wait until I am eighteen before going at all. But mamma is not so conventional, and she said I might."
"I suppose you are very busy," said Elinor, as she rose to go. "So I hesitate to ask a favor."
"Ask it," cried Martine. "I am not half as busy as I was yesterday. I am sure you won't ask anything I cannot do."