“No,” said Katherine. “The folks aren’t home yet and won’t be for three weeks. So I can stay here as long as the rest of you do and when you go East I shall go West.”
She made her plans calmly and frowned on all demonstrations of sympathy. Hinpoha found her after supper sitting on the Council Rock watching the sunset, and creeping up behind her slipped her arms around her neck. “Poor old K!” she whispered caressingly.
Katherine shook herself free from Hinpoha’s embrace. “Don’t act tragic,” she said crossly. “And don’t cry down the back of my neck. It gives me the fidgets.” And rebuffed, Hinpoha crept away.
The same thing happened to the other girls who tried to console her. It was hard to find a way to show their sympathy. She didn’t weep, she didn’t bewail her lot, she didn’t cast a gloom over the company 218 by making a long face. Katherine in trouble seemed suddenly older, stronger, more experienced in life than the others. They felt somehow young and childish before her and stood abashed. Yet their hearts ached for her because they knew that beneath her outward scorn of weakness she was suffering anguish of spirit.
Katherine was still sitting all alone on the rock some time later when a very wide shadow fell across it, and Slim came puffing along and dropped down beside her, his moon face red with exertion and suppressed emotion.
“It’s a measly shame!” he said explosively and with so much vehemence that Katherine almost smiled.
“Say,” he said in a confidential tone after a moment of silence, “I have seven hundred dollars that my grandmother left me to pay my tuition at college. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll lend it to you and I’ll work my way through. Won’t you take it from me, even if you won’t from the others?” His face was so earnest and his offer so sincere that Katherine was touched.
“Bless you, Slim!” she said heartily. “You’re a nice boy. And I’m very sorry I can’t accept your offer.”
“Can’t you?” said Slim pleadingly.
“No,” said Katherine firmly. “I must go home.”