After stirring the cream, cocoa and sugar in the cup, she poured on the boiling water. With a few additional manipulations of the spoon, she held out the cup to Elizabeth. “Here, girlie, drink to the prosperity of Exeter Hall in general, and these quarters in particular. May you get along with your roommate better than people generally do, and may all the scraps between you and her be made up before the retiring-bell rings.”
Elizabeth raised her cup to the toast, then drank. “Why, that is fine—and made with such a little fire! I would not have believed it possible.”
“You think that is good?” was the reply. “You will open your eyes when you see what can be done with the chafing-dish,—creamed oysters, fudge, soups of all kinds, Welsh rarebits. I hope, Elizabeth, that you spoke to your mother about boxes. At Exeter, boxes are acceptable at all times.”
“Boxes?” in surprise. “No; I never mentioned the word to her. I didn’t understand that they would be required. The catalog made no mention of them. I know because I looked particularly about the number of napkins and towels required. What do you put in them?”
“I don’t know. It is what you take out of them that makes them valuable. Personally, I prefer roast chicken and cake.”
“Oh!” cried Elizabeth. “How dull I am! But you know that I was never before at any school, and I never knew any girls my own age.”
“They’ll teach you a lot,” was the response.
“You and father agree in that. He says that the students will teach me more than the faculty. But that is one of the things I cannot understand.”
“You will sometime. I wouldn’t bother my head much about it now. What do you think about this Gibson head? It doesn’t fit in here with the other pictures.”
“Let me try it on this side of the room,” Elizabeth replied, placing the picture at a better angle.