"Are there many freshmen at Stuart Hall?" asked Beatrice Alden.
"Too many to suit me," was the emphatic answer.
"If you are so down on freshmen in general, how in the world do you manage to endure that dreadful Miss Briggs?"
"J. Elfreda is a joke," replied Alberta. "Nevertheless, she is a very useful joke. In the first place, she has plenty of money to spend, and we
see to it that she spends a good share of it on us. Then, too, we can borrow money of her. She is a great convenience. The funny part of it is she doesn't know about that letter we wrote. For once that priggish Miss Harlowe did manage to hold her tongue to some purpose."
"Suppose she does find out?"
"She can't prove that we wrote the note," was the quick retort. "When Miss Harlowe tried to pin us to it that day at Stuart Hall I merely said that a number of sophomores felt justified in sending the note. Of course, she drew her own conclusions, but conclusions are far from proof, you know. She would hardly dare circulate any reports concerning it. We aren't going to bother with J. Elfreda much longer at any rate. It's getting too near warm weather to risk being bored to death. Mary expects a check from home soon, and I've written Mother for some extra money, so we won't need hers. Besides, I don't wish to let our acquaintance lap over into my junior year. She's frightfully ill bred, and I'm going to begin to be more careful about my associates next year."
"What a frightful snob you are, Bert," said Beatrice rather disgustedly.
"Well, you are my first cousin, you know," retorted Alberta significantly. "I never considered you particularly democratic."