“Then you did not know what happened here last spring? Did none of the girls tell you?”
“I do not know what particular happenings you have in mind. But no one told me of anything that was unusual.”
“Well, then I shall tell you. It was not until last evening that I felt that I could talk the matter over with any one; but after you spoke as you did, I knew that you could understand. I have borne it so long without letting any one know, that it is a relief to think I can tell just how I feel, and how awful these months at Exeter have been. I might have gone somewhere else this fall and not returned at all; but when I thought it over, it seemed to me that it would be cowardly to slip away like that. Last summer I wrote to Dr. Morgan that I intended returning. Then I made up my mind that I would stay here until I made every one at Exeter, from Dr. Morgan down to the dining-hall girls, respect me.” She paused, then added slowly, “But I don’t seem to have made much headway yet.”
There was a sadness in the girl’s voice which embarrassed Elizabeth. She knew that Nora O’Day was sad—had known that for a long time. She would have been glad to express sympathy, say some word which would show confidence in her companion, but she was so new to anything of this sort that she could do nothing but sit silent and look at her. Then she suddenly blurted out:
“I do not know what you are talking about! Tell me, Nora. I fancy it is not really so bad as you think.”
“I do not see how it could be worse! Perhaps, when I tell you, you will feel as the others. If you do, don’t stop to explain and give all kinds of reasons for your actions. Just walk off, and I will understand that you do not care to be friends with me. I’ll not be surprised. Indeed, I rather expect you to do just that thing—yet, after all, you have always been different.”
“Well, wait until I walk off. I may not. Dollars to doughnuts, the ‘awful’ thing you have done is partly imaginary. The girls are all right, and I love some of them; but even that doesn’t make me think them infallible. But you sit there and hint about a dreadful deed you have done. One would think you were little less than a female Captain Kidd. There are cold chills running up and down my spine now, so begin quick and tell me everything.”
“Last spring, I went into the geometry examination and took my book with me. I copied three theorems, letter for letter, right out of the book. A half-dozen girls saw me—Mary Wilson, Nancy, Carrie Hirsch, Mame Welch, Landis and Min. That same evening the girls met and decided to cut me. We had all been friends.”
“I didn’t think Mary or Nancy would have done that—meet and talk over such a matter in public.”
“They didn’t. Neither would Carrie or Mame. I know none of the four were at the meeting. I think each one of them thought the matter over and decided for herself. They speak to me at the table and any school meetings. But that is a small part of Exeter life. They never enter my room or invite me into theirs.”