“Uh-huh. That’s what Jack calls her. We’ve never, any of us, seen her, but have all heard her. She’s that sort, vulgarly noisy——”
Poor Mary’s blonde head had gone higher and the white face seemed a shade more pallid as Jean gabbled on. Disgust, nothing less, except perhaps a hidden fear, was expressed in her haughty attitude, and somehow she reminded Gloria of a handsome animal trapped by refined cruelty.
“I hate gossip,” Mary said, crisply.
“You do!” retorted Pat. “Well, it’s a necessary evil here. We have to do something, why not gossip?”
“When a girl’s back is turned?” Mary qualified.
“But it isn’t about Jack, it’s the old lady. She must be a shrew. Can’t we say that about her when she wakes us up in the dead of the night?” Pat retorted.
“And we are really defending Jack.” This from Jean.
Gloria, being a newcomer and also in the “freshie” class, held back from the discussion. Exchanging glances with Trixy, both had plainly shown surprise that Mary should have appeared so haggard. Even her usual studied calmness was replaced by nervous little jerks, one of which caused her to drop and shatter the drinking glass.
“Oh!” she gasped. “How stupid of me!”
“Let me pick it up,” offered Gloria kindly. “Trixy says I can walk on glass, just because she saw me walk over clam shells at home. Anybody here ever bathe from a shelly beach? I have one at my native dock.”