tastes. It was now neat and bare. Marjorie, still wearing her shabby serge dress, was standing near an open window. She was holding a long, yellow canary on her finger, and whistling to the bird, who pecked at her in happy confidence.
Eileen was putting some pins into a great rent in her petticoat. The door was burst open, and Belle rushed in.
“How do, dears, both?” she said in a friendly voice. “Pray don’t rush at me and devour me with kisses; we never go on in that way at North Hall. My dear Marjorie, how you have grown! Oh! I am pleased to see you in that plain serge dress; and Eileen—petticoat out of order? Never mind—here, this pin will set it finally right.”
“Do stop for a moment, Belle. Of course I am delighted to see you,” said Marjorie, “but I must put Daffodil back into his cage.”
She crossed the room, still holding the bird on her finger, opened the door of his cage, and let him fly in. She then shut the cage-door and came back to where her friend was standing.
“I didn’t know you wore spectacles, Belle,” she said.
“Yes, dear, my sight is bad. I have been to Wiesbaden to the celebrated oculist, and he has ordered these special glasses. I have astigmatism in one eye, and have therefore to wear special spectacles. By the way, Marjorie, you look as if you ought to be short-sighted.”
“Ought to be short-sighted?” said Marjorie. “I am not; I have excellent sight.”
“You ought to be,” repeated Belle; “it gives one a distinguished look. In all probability you will be very short-sighted when you come to college. Most scholarly girls—I see by the shape of your brow that you are meant to be scholarly—are obliged to wear spectacles.”
“When I come to college!” replied Marjorie, “and I am supposed to be a scholarly girl. Delightful! And yet I am not sure that I wish to be scholarly; but what a dear delicious creature you are, Belle! Sit down; do sit down.”