“Well, well, so far so good; but you want my advice now as to what you will do. You distinctly intend to oppose your mother and that young girl with the fashionable head?”
“I really cannot see why I and my head should be dragged into this controversy,” said Letitia. “I am not speaking; I am simply sitting and listening. May I not listen to the words of wisdom which drop from your lips?”
“You talk, Lettie, as if poor Belle was Minerva,” said Eileen. “You know whatever we do you’ll have to do; because, though you are fashionable and horribly neat and particular about your outward appearance, you love us so well that you could not live without us.”
“There is some truth in that,” said Letitia, with a sigh.
“Well, now, stop wrangling, you three,” said Belle, “and let me speak. You can go on with your quarrel when I am away; but during the few moments that I can spare from my own heavy tasks, for I have a vast deal to acquire before I return to college, I surely may be allowed to say what I have come to say?”
“So good of you to come, dear Belle,” said Eileen, patting Belle’s long, large, angular hand.
Belle snatched her hand away.
“I hate being petted and fondled,” she said; “we never do that at North Hall, it is so schoolgirlish—at least not those girls who are worth anything. In every house of residence, in every college, there are drones, poor useless creatures, who follow the busy bees; but at St. Wode’s such dangerous adjuncts to the public peace are generally
rooted out. Miss Lauderdale, our adored principal, sees to that. Now, girls, if you wish to hear what the busy bees do, I will tell you.”
“I wish you would begin,” said Lettie; “you do nothing but walk round the subject and never attack it.”