"No, thank you. The reality will be sufficient," was Patience's dry retort. "I prefer a more pleasant variety of entertainment."
The ringing of the door bell caused those in the dining room to glance expectantly through the doorway into the hall. They heard the maid's voice, then a cry of "At last!" and Emma Dean fairly charged into their midst.
"I never was so glad to see any one in all my life," she cried, with a joyful wave of her hand. "How I have missed you while you have been gallivanting about New York without giving the friend of your freshman days a thought. You might have sent me a postcard, you know."
"'Gallivanting' is not the word with which to describe our triumphal march around New York," objected Elfreda.
"It's a very good word," defended Emma. "It means to roam about for pleasure without any definite plan. It says so in the dictionary."
"Every day adds to our store of knowledge," jeered Elfreda.
"As I am at present overjoyed to see you, I'll try hard not to squabble with you." Emma turned her back squarely upon Elfreda and addressed Anne. "I heard something while you were gone that will interest you, Anne. The senior class are talking of presenting a play. If we do, you will star in it, of course."
"I can't, Emma," returned Anne regretfully. "My professional experience prevents me from taking part in college plays. If Semper Fidelis, or some of the girls, were to put on a play for our own amusement, then I could take part, but in regular college plays professionals are barred here at Overton. It is practically the same rule that applies to college sports."
"Oh, that is too bad! But it wouldn't hinder you from writing one, would it?"
"I couldn't write a play. I used to hope that I might some day become a writer. But I know now that it isn't in me."