“She was a common-looking person,” she added. “One could see she belonged to the middle class, and I suppose had been compelled to practice economy, so that my throwing a sandwich away seemed recklessly extravagant.”
“Did you think she was common-looking?” asked Elizabeth. “Her skin was as fine as a baby’s, and her eyes were beautiful. Didn’t you see how expressive they were?”
“No, I didn’t. All I could see was her gingham shirtwaist suit with its prudish white linen cuffs and collar, and her rough straw hat.”
Miss Wilson put her arm through her roommate’s to hurry her.
“Excuse us, girls, if we walk faster; I wish Miss Hobart to meet Nancy. She’s the girl ahead with Anna Cresswell.”
Elizabeth was borne along toward the dining-hall, at the door of which Miss Cresswell and her companion stopped.
“Nancy, I wish you and Miss Hobart to meet,” said Miss Wilson, “and I intend that you shall be good friends. Nancy and I were brought up together, and she’s used to me. When you want anyone to sympathize with you because of me, go to Nancy.”
“Her name is Miss Eckdahl,” added Miss Cresswell with a smile.
“But she should have known. Everyone should know Nancy without being told. What is the good of being famous otherwise? If your name goes not abroad, what is the good of being a champion in mathematics or anything else? When I say ‘Nancy,’ the intelligent person should know that I mean—”
“Nancy Hanks,” added the girl herself. “I might be mistaken for the famous trotter.”