“Do please come on,” said Hugh Post, turning to Ruth. “We are going,” he explained, “out to the athletic grounds in our motor cars. The girls came to see the university, and we haven’t shown them a blooming thing.”
“We are going to the dance to-night, just the same,” announced Mollie to Mrs. Cartwright. “Aunt Sallie is to rest this afternoon, so she will be equal to it. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright joined the party, and, in a few minutes, the two motor cars had covered the two miles between the college campus and the thirty acres Yale devotes to college sports. The visitors saw the athletic grounds thoroughly; here the football champions of the world had been trained, and there was the baseball diamond.
“Ralph’s the crack oarsman of the lot,” said Donald Cartwright; “but—great Scott! We can’t show these girls anything, after the way they tackled the burglar last night.”
“We’ll get up a regatta in your honor, if you’ll come again next year, Miss Thurston,” said Ralph.
Barbara only laughed at him. “Look out,” she warned. “I may make you keep your promise.”
“Barbara,” said Mollie that night, as they were getting ready for the dance which was to take place in the Old Alumni Hall, “are you sure you feel well enough for the ball to-night?”
“Nonsense, child, why shouldn’t I? I feel as fine as a fiddle. It isn’t doing things that uses one up, even tackling a burglar; it is thinking about them. Ruth and I didn’t have any time to think about our burglar.”
“Well,” said Mollie, a little wistfully, smoothing the folds of her muslin dress, “I don’t believe I am as anxious to go to the dance as I thought I was. Does this dress look very shabby? I wouldn’t go, now, only it seems kind of hateful of me to refuse Mrs. Cartwright’s invitation.”
“Now, Molliekins,” Barbara answered quite seriously, “it’s your dress, isn’t it? Of course, I have thought about mine, too. These are just simple muslins that we have worn before; but, when we left home, we neither of us dreamed we would go to a party in them. Let’s just make the best of things. Anyhow, I’ve made up my mind to one thing, and I wish you would, too. You and I must not worry about being poor while we are on this trip. Let us not pretend that we are rich, because everybody we meet seems to be. Ruth knows we are poor, knows about our little cottage and not keeping a servant, and she doesn’t mind. I don’t believe really nice people care whether young girls are rich or poor, if they happen to like them. I don’t mean to preach.” Barbara put her arm around Mollie and waltzed her around the room. “Let us pretend we are both Cinderellas before the arrival of the fairy godmother.”