“I don’t suppose it will interest you,” said Belle; “but here goes.—By the way, have either of you two”—as she spoke she turned to Eileen and Marjorie—“have either of you two ever been to St. Wode’s College, Wingfield?”
“Never,” said Eileen; “but Fay Everett, a girl at our school, has a sister there, and she sometimes describes the place to us. She said the students’ rooms were so sweetly pretty, and that each girl could exercise her own individual taste.”
“Good gracious! am I sitting here to talk of the girls who are supposed to have taste?” cried Belle. “Taste, what is taste? It is nothing but a device of the Evil One for wasting time. I am here to talk to you about the students, the real students. I, for instance, have a room. Would you like to know how my room is furnished?”
Letitia gave a perceptible shudder, and walking to the window deliberately shut it.
“What are you doing that for?” said Eileen. “It is going to be a very hot day.”
“I felt a sudden chill,” said Lettie.
“Well, do let the window remain shut; what does it matter?” cried Belle. “I have placed myself high above the mere influence of the weather. Is it hot? is it cold? I can never tell; I simply don’t know. My mind is absorbed in abstruse speculations and such trivial matters as bodily discomforts cannot touch it. Oh, girls, it is grand to allow your mind to soar! Have you, for instance, ever dipped deep into the intricacies of Virgil?”
“Never,” said Eileen.
She looked at Marjorie.
“I don’t think, after all,” she continued, “we wish to be so very learned. Our idea was to be just useful, plain sort of women. Of course we should never think of marrying; but we should like to be women who help their fellow-creatures, who are ready to take their place in a sudden emergency. We want to know a little about nursing, something too about medicine. We should not object to going through a regular course of household training; but as to learning, we don’t want to be bookworms.”