“He did,” said the youth, “and asked me to deliver it. I have it in the vestibule.” Opening the door, he secured the bag and handed it to Patricia.
“I am very grateful to you,” said Patricia a bit stiffly. “It was good of you to bring it.”
“No trouble at all. I was down at the shelter waiting for some one—” he broke off suddenly, as if fearing he had said too much, and bowed himself solemnly out.
“Well!” exclaimed Anne. “Of all things! You seem fated to get mixed up with that young man.”
“Don’t I? I suppose Mike remembered that he was on the bus with us, and just naturally gave the bag to him on that account.”
“Probably. Anyhow, now you won’t have to borrow a dress. You’d better hurry, though; it’s after six, and we dine—mark, I said dine—at six-thirty.”
Dinner was quite an experience for Patricia, who had never before seen a college dining room. The big low room was bare and unattractive in itself, but the long tables, each surrounded by twenty girls in pretty dinner gowns, the bright lights, and the orange-clad waitresses made up for lack of decorations elsewhere.
“My ears will grow at least a yard long here,” she observed to Anne, who sat next to her.
“What on earth do you mean?” inquired that young lady, reaching for the olives.
“Why, there are so many interesting conversations going on all around me, that I want to hear them all.”