“It was mostly due to her that I came to college,” continued Bea with an effort to speak naturally though her fingers shook the least bit in their grasp of the brush, and one anxious eye was watching Lila’s face. “I’ve known her all my life. She persuaded the family to send me, and she tutored me last summer and helped in a million different ways. You don’t understand how much I owe her. It is such a little thing to invite her to my—to our party. I’d love to do it, Lila.”
Still no answer. The silence lengthened out minute after minute. Finally Bea ventured to raise her head and hold up another card for inspection. “See, a new daisy, but this one has a different disposition. Do you observe the expression—sort of grinning and cheerful? This is like Sue, while the first one is like you, an earnest young person, not one bit impudent. See it, lady. The dearest flower-face. I love it.”
“And yet”—Lila’s voice sounded choked, “you want to invite her to the party. You know it will spoil my pleasure. You—know—I—hate—her.”
Bea’s frame trembled once in a nervous shiver. Her fascinated eyes followed Lila to the window, where she stood staring out at the dazzling winter world of snow.
“You must choose between Susan Merriam and me. I have a right to demand it. I have a right. I have a right.”
Bea saw Lila lift her arm as if to brush away the tears. Then one hand fumbled for her handkerchief, while the other squeezed the burned corks with unconscious force. She was certainly wiping her eyes.
“You must—you must—choose to-day—between Susan Merriam and me. If you choose her, I shall never speak to you again. If you choose me, you must have nothing to do with her. Nothing! You must drop her acquaintance. You cannot have both.”
Bea suddenly tipped back in her chair, teetered to and fro for a frantic moment, then brought it down with a bump on all four feet.
“Nonsense!” she snapped.