"I believe that. I have observed that trait on several occasions. You make me think of Rob Vail in that way."
"I shall finish after dinner," was Hester's sole comment. "I presume I had better prepare for it now. Are you wearing a silk dress?" she asked as she turned toward Helen and saw that she was getting into a little one-piece suit of checked silk instead of her customary white.
"Yes, mother thinks I dress too thinly. If I wear the white I cannot wear long sleeves. So I have promised to keep to this dark silk, though I do not like it nearly so well."
She had slipped into her dress and was looking about for her pins and rings. "I had a little old pin on my dresser. Did you see anything of it, Hester?"
"No, indeed. I never presume to touch anything there without your permission."
"I did not mean to suggest that, little roommate. I carelessly let it lie there several days ago, and now I cannot find it."
"I have not seen it," said Hester. She spoke quickly and perhaps, with unusual curtness. At least it seemed so to Helen, who attributed the curtness to Hester's being hurt at being asked such a question. She let the subject drop and no further word passed between them until they were called to dinner.
When study hour came again, Hester pushed aside her text books and fell to writing. The door of the study, during this time, was always open and no words were permitted between roommates. Helen, observing that her roommate was not working at her lessons, gave her several warning glances; but Hester was unaffected. The muse had laid its hands upon her and she was helpless in its clutches. She wrote and erased, only to rewrite and erase again.
It was not until the study period was over that she raised her head and with a smile of triumph read aloud:
"Doctor Dixon had a freshman class,
Whose minds were soft like snow.
He tried to teach them geometry,
But he could not make it go.
He scolded them in class one day;
He shocked the entire school.
The tears ran down one sweet girl's face,
When he called her a mule."