"I know it." Grace strolled reflectively through the open bathroom door and on into the bedroom. When she returned, she had decided. "You are right, Emma. I don't believe it would be selfish to keep this room. Now how shall we furnish it?"
"Don't ask me to decide that," protested Emma. "I feel as though I ought to pack my belongings and go to one of the faculty houses, Grace. It isn't fair to you for me to stay here and be a cumberer of your room."
"Emma Dean, if you do!" Grace caught Emma by the shoulders and proceeded to shake her.
"Wait! Stop!" implored Emma. "My glasses! And lenses cost money!"
"Will you stay?" demanded a relentless voice. The shaking continued, but gently.
"I will. That is, I'll have to, or pay the oculist."
Grace's hands fell from Emma's shoulders.
"I didn't want to pack and go," confessed Emma, "but I was trying to be as fair to you as you are to every one else."
"It wouldn't be one bit fair in you to leave me. You promised to see me through, you know," reproached Grace.
"So I did, and so I will," declared Emma, "I take back all I said. From now on I am as much of a fixture here as the kitchen range or the window seat."