“I think not, Dreda. I should prefer to keep to present arrangements. If you have really learnt your lessons so quickly there will be no ‘bother’ to fear. You may go now, dear. We will discuss the synopsis later on. I dare say you will like to have a little quiet time before dinner. Come to me to-morrow at the same hour.”
Dreda backed silently from the room a picture of tragic despair, and slowly mounted to the dormitory where the faithful Susan awaited her coming. The two girls faced one another in silence for several moments before Dreda spoke.
“Susan! on your word of honour will you answer me a question truthfully?”
“Yes, Dreda, of course I will.”
“Why did you offer to be sub-editor after I had asked?”
Poor Susan! The freckles disappeared in a crimson blush which mounted to her temples, and tinged her very neck beneath the stiff brown band. She twisted her fingers together, and stammered incoherent nothings.
“Go on! You promised. The truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Dreda, dear—”
“Go on! I’m prepared. I’ve suffered so much humiliation already that a little more or less doesn’t matter. Well?”
“I thought—I was afraid—I didn’t want you to get into trouble, dear. You are so clever, and original, and sparkling, it is natural that you should get tired. I am just a dull, plodding old machine.”