“Do you really think so?” Lila smiled a little doubtfully. “It sounds like one of the sophists—‘to make the worse appear the better reason.’ I’d love to believe it, and you are sweet to me.” She laid one arm caressingly across Bea’s shoulders. “It is queer that I don’t mind more when you scold me so outrageously.”
“Scold you?” repeated the other in amazement at such a description of her soothing speech.
Lila nodded. “I never stood it from anybody else. Maybe it is because you are my special dearest friend. That is why I came to college, you know. At home the girls disappointed me. There were several in the high school who might have been my friends if they had been different from what they were. Ena Brownell and I were inseparable for weeks till one morning she went off with another girl instead of waiting for me on the corner, though I had telephoned that I would meet her there. Even if I was a few minutes late, she would have waited if she had really cared. I cried myself to sleep every night for a long time but I never forgave her.”
“Um-m-m,” muttered Bea, her head again bent over the cardboard, “how horrid! See, isn’t this a lovely daisy I’m drawing? They’re to be dinner cards for my next spread. This is for your place.”
“It’s sweet. I think you are the most talented girl in the class.” Lila stooped for a hug but carefully so as not to interfere with the growth of the silvery petals. “There was another girl, and her name was Daisy. She seemed perfect till I discovered that she prized her own vanity more highly than my happiness. She refused to take gym work the third hour when I was obliged to have it. She said the shower bath spoiled the wave in her hair, and so she chose the sixth hour class. Yet she knew very well that I had Latin at that period. I don’t care for that selfish kind of friendship, do you?”
“Um-m, no!” Bea’s brush dropped an impatient splash of yellow in the heart of the flower. Then she glanced up with a penitent smile.
“You’re so awfully loyal yourself, Lila,” she said. “You try to measure everybody up to that standard. I shan’t forget that day in hygiene when you declined to answer the question that floored me. It was like that poem about the girl who wouldn’t spell a word that the boy had missed, because she hated to go above him. And at the tennis tournament you wouldn’t leave till I had finished the match, though you shivered and shook in the frosty October air. You do a lot for me, and I am downright ashamed sometimes. See, behold the completed posy!”
“It is too pretty for a mere dinner card.” Lila dropped into a rattan chair and idly tossed the corks from hand to hand. “Aren’t you planning a long time ahead? Your family knows exactly what to send in a box. That last was the most delicious thing! I suppose we’ll just ask our crowd of freshmen, Berta and Gertrude and the rest.”
Lila’s eyes were so intent upon the dancing corks that she failed to note the swift glance which Bea darted in her direction.
“Um-m-m,” she said cautiously, “I think I might like an upper class girl or two. Some of them have been awfully kind to me this year. Sue Merriam escorted me to the first Hall Play, and she proposed our names for Alpha, and on her birthday she asked me to sit at her table and meet some seniors as an invited guest. She said the “invited” with such a thump on it that my heart almost broke. Isn’t she the greatest tease?”