“What is the matter?” Clara Carter asked Julia not unsympathetically as she came in from her Greek recitation to find Julia seated lachrymosely in the very chair she had been occupying when Clara had left their room.
“Nothing,” Julia gulped, and sighed.
“There certainly must be. You hardly ever cry.”
“You wouldn’t be interested to know if I tell you,” Julia quavered. “You are not my friend any more.”
“I would be if you would try to do as you should,” Clara returned with stolid dignity. “I don’t care much about you lately, Julia, but I used to like you. Only both of us were wrong in the way we gossiped about the girls. We used to wonder sometimes why Doris was so queer and haughty with us at times. I know now that it was because she disapproved of our gossiping. Now when I am with her I never say an unkind word about anyone. And she is sweet to me on that very account.”
“I wish I had never got up that miserable petition, or listened to a word Mildred Ferguson told to me about that Dulcie Vale, her cousin,” Julia’s voice rose to a disconsolate wail.
“I am very glad I came to my senses in time and had my name taken off the list,” Clara returned grimly. “I feel sorry for you, somehow, Julia, though you’ve only yourself to blame for what’s happened.” Clara had not yet reached a point of forbearance wherein she could honestly sympathize with her roommate. She had not yet arrived at the charitable spirit of which she now gave signs of someday achieving.
“I know it.” Julia held her handkerchief to her eyes, continuing to cry softly.
“I’d truly like to know what troubles you, Julia,” Clara presently said in a softer tone than she had at first used.
“I can’t come back to Hamilton next year,” Julia sobbed out. “We’ve lost our money; everything we own, too. My father has been having bad luck in the market for the past year. My mother knew he was losing, but didn’t think things were so bad as they’ve just turned out to be. We are poor, terribly poor. I am going to stay here the rest of this year, but I can’t come back next year. My father says I’ll have to become his secretary, and he’ll have only a small office. It will take him quite a while to get over this failure and we’ll have to live in a common three story house, and maybe not have even one car. Mother says we will try to keep my car for her use. It’s all so terrible. I was never poor. I can’t bear to think about it. And I want to come back to Hamilton for my senior year more than anything.”