"Hertha!" a voice called.
She was standing at the window and despite herself looked down to where Lee Merryvale stood below.
"Come!" he cried.
It sounded like a command. She shook her head angrily and walked back into the room. This was persecution. There was no place for her. Mammy's home was closed and in this she must continually evade one of the household.
Another knock. This time it was Miss Witherspoon. "May I come in just for a moment?" that lady said.
Hertha smiled pleasantly but inwardly felt resentment.
"I want so much to let you know what I've been thinking about," Miss Witherspoon announced as she entered the room. "I've just remembered a nice old couple whom I haven't seen for more than a year who live only a block from the Institute. I believe they would be delighted to take you to board."
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Palmer Field. I remember her well now. Her husband at one time was a clerk in a bank, though I don't know what he may be doing at present. The last time I saw him he looked too old to be a clerk. Probably they would be very glad to take you in, and would charge you only a dollar more than at Clay House. And there is something, you know, in what Miss Merryvale says about your having some social life. They are quiet, elderly people who sometimes take a student to board. I'll write and tell them about you and see whether they will take you in."
"I would rather wait, Miss Witherspoon; we start North in a few days."