Eileen and Marjory had found their way to Belle’s hall. They were standing in the attic which she had described to them so graphically.
“I cannot imagine how you managed to furnish it in this extraordinary way,” began Eileen. “I have heard from one or two of the girls here that the furniture is put in by the heads of the college. Now, our rooms, for instance, are quite decently furnished.”
“Too much furniture,” interrupted Belle. She uttered a groan as she spoke.
“The rooms certainly possess the necessary comforts of civilized life,” pursued Eileen, “and for my part I cannot say that I am sorry. We have no luxuries; but the furniture in the room is good and neat. We have a chest of drawers each, and proper washhand-stands of course, and snug little sofa-beds, and carpets, and curtains to the windows, and——”
“Need you quote any further from that tiresome list?” said Belle again. She was standing by her small attic window with her back to the view.
“One thing is delightful in this room,” said Eileen, running up to the window as she spoke. “You have a splendid view—much better than ours. Do step aside, Belle, and let me look out.”
“If you wish to,” said Belle drearily.
“Wish to! I always love scenery. Surely, Belle, you cannot think it wrong to look out at this lovely view?”
“No, not wrong exactly,” said Belle; “not wrong; but I have little heart to admire anything to-day. I am disappointed, and I must own it.”
“Now, what have we done to annoy you?” said Marjorie.