"Oh, not—not so much!" said the girl, deprecatingly. "A little yesterday; but—I don't know whether they meant to be unkind, Peggy. I know that my dress is queer!"
"Don't be so meek!" cried Peggy, unable to repress a little stamp of her foot, which made Lobelia start. "Have some spirit of your own, Lobelia. I tell you, these girls are mean, cowardly wretches, not fit for girls like the Owls to speak to. They don't speak to them much, either," she added, "and I'm not going to any more than I can help."
Lobelia looked more miserable than ever. "Don't!" she said. "I can't bear to have any one get into trouble on my account. It—it needn't matter to you, Peggy. Of course you are very, very kind, and I think I should have died if you had not come along just then, for I couldn't seem to bear much more; but I don't want you to get into trouble."
"Who's going to get into trouble?" demanded Peggy. "Guess I can take care of myself against such a set as that."
"I don't want you to get into trouble!" repeated Lobelia; and, as she spoke, she glanced around the room with a peculiar shrinking look, one would say a look of dread, that Peggy did not understand.
"Who's next door to you?" she asked, briefly. "Rose Barclay, for one, I know. Who is on the other side?"
Lobelia thought it was another freshman, but was not sure.
"Have they troubled you?" asked Peggy, suspiciously.
But Lobelia shook her head, and seemed so distressed at the question that Peggy did not know what to think.
"Please, please don't bother about me!" she implored. "I dare say it will be a good deal better now, after you and Miss Merryweather being so brave and so kind. I don't want to say anything against anybody. Please, please forget all about it, Peggy."