“When will you go to New York?” Doris showed signs of mollification. The promise of an Easter vacation in New York with Leslie to show her the metropolis was something to be gracious over.
“Don’t know. Not for a week. Perhaps not for two.” Leslie donned her most indifferent air. She had volunteered as much as she thought wise to Doris concerning her New York trip. “Tell me about the hop,” she said craftily, switching the subject from herself to her companion.
“Oh, it was so, so.” Doris shrugged lightly. “My pale blue frock was sweet. A lot of fuss was made over me. There wasn’t a Beauty contest.” Her face registered disappointment. “Julia Peyton said she’d start one, but she couldn’t make it go. The crowd was crazy to dance.”
“She is a big bluff, and her pal, red-headed Miss Carter is a stupid. Look out for both of them,” was Leslie’s succinct criticism. She had been introduced to the two sophs by Doris and had mentally decided against both.
“They have been awfully sweet to me,” Doris returned half offended. She did not enjoy having her admirers belittled. “So were Miss Page, Miss Moore and the rest of that new sorority. Miss Page is charming. What a pity she throws herself away on that horrid Sanford crowd. I was glad they weren’t at the hop. I’d not have taken charge of the admission fee if they had been.”
“You would if it had happened to suit you,” Leslie coolly told her. Then she laughed. “Don’t bristle and get ready to throw quills at me, Goldie. I know you thoroughly. I must say I’m surprised to hear you raving over Page when you know Page and Bean are my special abomination.”
“You never said a word about Miss Page,” Doris flashed back.
“She’s a Beanstalk. Wasn’t that enough to let you know what I thought of her? Aren’t she and Bean always together?”
“I’m not crazy about Miss Page,” Doris jerked out angrily. She purposely avoided answering Leslie’s questions.
“I’ll say you’re not. There’s only one person you are crazy about. That’s Doris Monroe,” Leslie said with savage emphasis.