Martine tried. Lucian's method was something like a game, and under his guidance she made a fair beginning. Before they had fairly started on the essay, Lucian talked learnedly about "clearness," and "force," and "elegance," and Martine listened, somewhat dazzled by her brother's show of knowledge.
"Well, Harvard has done you some good, after all, Lucian. As a sophomore you seem to be making up for what you lost in your freshman year."
"There, there, child, no twitting on facts. Of course Harvard has done a great deal for me. Why else should I go to college?"
"I wonder what college would do for me. What would you think of my going to Radcliffe, for example?" Martine looked anxiously at her brother; she had known boys who positively opposed their sister's ambitions in this direction.
"Well, if you could get in," said Lucian, "I think it would be a mighty good thing."
The "if" nettled Martine.
"What other girls do I suppose I could do too."
"Oh, yes; and if you should turn out like Miss Amy Redmond, or if you'd work like Priscilla, why I'd be proud enough of you."
"Ah, Amy's a brick," responded Martine, "but I didn't know that you really admired Priscilla. Robert Pringle says she's just the kind boys don't like."
"Oh, Robert is too fresh; he can't settle everything, though he thinks he can. But here, we can't waste time. Remember that you're trying to prove your point."