“That’s only figurative. Polly, why have you gone back to braids and bows? You look very infantile for a real Wellesley sophomore.”
“I got tired of the bird-cages and puffs, and 38 decided I’d go back to nature. Besides, playing around with Peter and Perdita you need something stationary. They work dreadful havoc with a stylish coiffure.”
“I wonder if I’d have to put my hair down just to teach them on Sundays? Mrs. Henley is going away, you know, and I’ve been asked to take her class.”
“O, I do hope you will,” cried Polly. “You would have a civilising influence on Perdita, and she needs it. Peter keeps her in order so well she never does anything very bad, but she is potentially a little terror.”
“She always seems very mild when I see her,” commented Catherine, patting her piles into straight lines. “But you can’t always tell about people by looking at them. I, for instance, have all my life been expected to be lady-like, just because when I was little I hadn’t strength enough to be naughty. And many and many a time I have felt like doing something wild and shocking!”
“Why, Catherine Smith!” exclaimed Polly in amazement. “You always seemed to me a sort of beautiful princess up here on the hill, and, good as any of the rest of us might try to be, we never could hope to be as good as you. Have you honestly ever wanted to be bad?”
Catherine laughed, a funny little gurgling laugh. “I honestly have–not wicked you know, but–well, 39 reckless! And I never had the courage to do anything very startling till last year at college.”
She stopped and laughed again.
“Tell me,” Polly insisted. “I’ll never tell. What did you do? Was it fun? Tell me!”
Catherine’s eyes twinkled. “I made up my mind that it was my one chance, for no one there belonged to me, and my tiresome reputation for propriety hadn’t had time to get started. So one day I got up late, and was late to breakfast, and cut a class, and–” She laughed so hard that Polly wanted to shake her. “O, Polly it was such a ridiculous thing to do! I talked slang and chewed gum!”