“No, you couldn’t,” Leslie interrupted patiently. “Doris Monroe, the senior I mentioned to you, is very fond of the girl she’s going to room with. I like rooming alone. There; you have it.” Leslie made an explanatory motion of the hand. She suspected the little girl of having designs upon her room, but of lacking the final spurt of temerity to ask outright again for a half of it.
“I guess I’d best go.” Miss Ogden half rose from the chair. Then she plumped down upon it again, and began to cry. “I—wouldn’t you, couldn’t you—Oh, I know you’ll—hate me—for being so—so—nervy, but—if you’d only take—me—as a—a—roommate for—for a while, maybe I might be able to find—another room on the campus—later. Truly, I’d try—not—to be a bother, and to—to—find another room as soon as I—could,” the tearful pleader wound up with a long sobbing gurgle.
Leslie stared at her uninvited visitor, her immobile features giving no clue to her racing thoughts. She was tempted to comment with a touch of good-natured satire: “No doubt about your nerve.” Immediately the impulse died, and her brain took up seriously the problem she was facing. Should she, or should she not, consider this stranger’s welfare, rather than her own? A roommate would certainly not add to her happiness. Fond as she was of Doris, they got along much better in separate rooms. Her own fault. Leslie refused to blame Doris for what she was wont satirically to style as “Cairns’ moods and tenses.”
“You can’t see me, at all, can you?” Hurt pride at length steadied the freshman’s tone. She pulled herself together and rose with a kind of hopeless finality that caused Leslie a pang of self-reproach.
“No; I don’t,” she answered with blunt honesty, “not yet, but I’m considering you as a roommate. Don’t say a word.” She held up an arresting hand. “Just sit tight. Let me think things out.”
“Oh-h-h I—” Miss Ogden subsided meekly, her black eyes fixed hopefully upon Leslie.
Leslie began a thoughtful survey of the room, her glance roving from one to another of its luxurious appointments. “The chaise longue will have to go. I’ll give it to Miss Remson,” was her mental decision. “She’ll have to have a day bed like mine, and a chiffonier. I won’t give up my color scheme, though I am giving up half my room. Good-bye to a happy life. Hard luck, Cairns II. The dress closet’s large, thank goodness. I can get along with half of it. We can use the same dressing table. Hope she hasn’t the mirror habit.” Aloud she said: “I’ve considered. You may come in with me, if you like. I’ll warn you, beforehand, I’m not always sociable. I like to be let alone.”
“I won’t bother you a bit; truly I won’t. And you’re sure you want—I mean, you’re willing I should come?” The other girl’s downcast features had lost their doleful droop.
“No; I’m not willing—yet, but I have a heart.” Leslie’s slow smile appeared briefly. “We’ll let it go at that. I’ll speak to Miss Remson tomorrow about having a couch bed brought in here, temporarily, for you.” She went on to explain her plan for the re-arrangement of the room.
“I’ll pay for whatever furniture you are going to buy on my account,” instantly proposed the freshman. “I have lots of money. I’d love to do it.”