"Will not stand crushing. I know it, and how sweet you look in that soft gray. But I thought you were at Cambridge."
"Oh, no, I was not invited to the feast of reason this morning. I am going out merely for the frivolities of the afternoon. I forgot to write you that I had promised your mother I would call for you. I realized my oversight only as I started. Perhaps you have made other plans?"
"I have been too busy for plans. Mamma forgot to tell me you were coming. An hour ago I thought I was too busy to go to Cambridge, but now—it just delights me to think of going with you."
The ride in an open car over the long bridge soothed Martine. She almost forgot that she had been tired. When Mrs. Redmond drew from her the story of her recent responsibilities, the young girl made light of the difficulties that had beset her. She was always happy with Mrs. Redmond, and the latter's quick understanding of her present trials lessened the trials themselves.
When they reached Harvard Square, Martine's spirits rose.
"There's no doubt I love a crowd," she said. "This makes me think of a country fair, only the people are better dressed, and there are no fakirs."
"My dear child—a country fair!"
"I mean the atmosphere is somewhat the same—oh, there are Amy and Fritz."
Somewhere from the crowd pouring out from one of the smaller college gates, Amy and Fritz were approaching the spot on the sidewalk where Martine and Mrs. Redmond were standing.
"I am delighted to see you, children," said Mrs. Redmond. "I was secretly wondering where we should go next—to Fritz' rooms or to the Pudding."