"Oh, Jean, I know I did. But first Margaret told me about it, and then I began to notice for myself. I've been taking Special English this year, and I find I notice more and more. It's really a pity, as Margaret says, to have only two or three words and work them to death, when there are so many good ones that we never use at all. Grace used to call it 'Cruelty to Syllables.'"
"Well, what shall I say? I don't know anything else."
"Yes, you do; don't be absurd, child. Margaret made me a list of adjectives and adverbs once, I remember, the first time I was here; I was just your age then, Jean, and I have no doubt I did say 'awfully' most of the time; anyhow, I did it enough to trouble Margaret aw—very much indeed. Let me see: there is 'very,' of course; 'remarkably, extremely, uncommonly, exceedingly, and excessively;' then for adjectives, 'charming, delightful, pretty, exquisite, pleasant, agreeable, entertaining,'—well, there were a great many more, but that is all I can think of now; all these will do instead of 'awful' and 'lovely,' Jean."
"Oh, Peggy, dear, you are a regular school-ma'am. Please don't let us talk about all these horrid things, the first night I am here. I am perfectly dying to know what you think about the two Mr. Merryweathers, and about Hugh and Margaret."
"Why, I think the Merryweathers seem very nice boys indeed. I like the funny one best, I think; Gerald, is his name? But the other one is nice, too. He has such kind eyes, and such a pleasant voice. Somehow he looks more like Gertrude than Gerald does, even though Gerald has her hair. Oh, Jean, I wish you could see my Snowy Owl! She is so dear, and beautiful, and strong; next to you and Margaret, she is the very dearest girl in the world, except one."
"May I come in?" said Margaret's voice at the door. She was greeted by a duet of "Come in, do!" and entering, found her two cousins seated on the floor, hair-brush in hand, brushing out their long fair hair.
"'Maud and Madge in their robes of white,
The prettiest nightgowns under the sun!'"
quoted Margaret. "How comfortable you look, girls! May I do my hair here, too? I knew you would be sitting up, chattering. Who is the very dearest girl in the world except one, Peggy? And who is the one? I heard the end of your sentence before I knocked."
"Yes, but you didn't hear the beginning," said Peggy, "or you would know that you two here are the very dearest, and that the others only come after you. I was speaking of Gertrude Merryweather; oh! how you and she will love each other, Margaret! I don't see how I can wait to have you know each other. And by the 'except one,' I meant Grace Wolfe, our Horny Owl, and our Goat, and a good many other things."
"Where is she now?" asked Margaret. "Have you heard from her lately?"