“Not in the least!” lied Patricia curtly, trying desperately to fight back tears. Ever since she could remember, any sudden blow or fall had made her cry, whether she was really badly hurt or not. It was a most embarrassing habit, now that she was grown up. As she elaborately straightened her little brown hat which was over one ear, and tried to recover her poise, the youth passed on to the other end of the bus.
“Wonder when and where your next encounter will be,” observed Anne, as the driver closed the doors and started the big bus. “Three times—you know.”
“Never, I hope,” replied Patricia emphatically, little dreaming what the future held in store for her. “Does this bus take us right to college?”
“No, only to the foot of the hill about one-half mile from the campus. We’ll be there in an hour.”
“Have you a room mate?” inquired Patricia, a few minutes later.
“No, I have one of the three singles on the first floor. Where are you to be?”
“I don’t know, but I hope that it will be near you, and that I’ll have a room mate.”
“Why?” asked Anne, idly tracing designs on the steamed window beside her.
“Because I’ve always wanted one. It’s a bit lonesome, being an only child.”
“Sometimes you’d wish you were,” laughed Anne, “if your sister tried to boss you as mine frequently does. Joan and I are usually pretty good friends, but once in so often we have a flare-up.”