Gertrude felt herself freed from the encircling arms. She moistened her lips. “I am sorry, Sara, about the other night. I am—sorry.”
The pale little face upturned toward hers began to glow as if touched with sunshine. “I was late because Prexie kept me. I should have explained, but—but it hurt. I knew you were sorry.”
Berta sat up as if jerked into position by a wire, and briskly brushed the hair out of her eyes.
“Listen, Bea,” she whispered to a small pink ear half hidden by red curls, “they’re reconciled.”
“So are we,” said Bea, “please open the door for the puppy.”
CHAPTER VIII
CLASSES IN MANNERS
Gertrude’s brother paid another visit to his sister at Class Day. At least, he was supposed to be visiting his sister, but it was really Bea who took charge of him during all that radiant June morning while Gertrude, as chairman of the Daisy Chain committee, was busy with her score of workers among the tubs of long-stemmed daisies in a cool basement room. Bea had immediately enrolled the young man as her first assistant in the arduous task of gathering armfuls of the starry flowers in the field beyond the dormitories.