“It’s horrid to be an editor,” I said, “especially when Robbie Belle has to go and get taken to the infirmary just when I need her most.”
“My mother knows,” chanted the little freshman, “and she says I can’t write a little bit. She says I can elect mathematics. Whoopee!”
CHAPTER XIII
JUST THIS ONCE
Ellen drummed restlessly on the window pane. “I’m ’most sure it would not matter just this once. We’ve had the mildest sort of a fever, and I don’t see yet why they keep us shut up so long away off here. I’m crazy to send a letter home.”
Lila’s thin shoulders gave an irritable little shrug under the silken folds of her dressing-gown, and her finely cut features screwed for an instant into an expression of impatient dislike. It was only for an instant—then the mask of her conventional courtesy dropped again between the two convalescents.
“Why not tell the doctor or the nurse what you wish to write? They will attend to it for you. Infection may be conveyed in a dozen ways, you know. We are beginning to peel, and that is the worst——”
“Oh, are we?” broke in Ellen excitedly, “are we really peeling?” She lifted one hand and examined the wrist. “No, I’m not even beginning. Every morning the moment I wake up I rub and rub, but it won’t peel. It simply won’t. And I’ve got to stay here till I do. Are you peeling? Really?”