“Indeed, I have, sir;” she returned. “My—a friend has taken the first honors for this year at Yale.”
She flushed again, for she had almost forgotten to whom she was speaking, and nearly said, “My dear old Geoffrey,” but checked herself and called him a friend.
“You need not have corrected yourself,” replied the professor, with a twinkle of his eyes. “If the ‘friend’ is your brother you should not allow your modesty to prevent your acknowledging it.”
Gladys’ eyes drooped half guiltily at this.
She could not explain that Geoffrey was not her brother, but something far dearer, and yet her sense of truthfulness made her shrink from giving a wrong impression.
“You will be able to send him as pleasant tidings in return, will you not? You have also been appointed valedictorian, I believe?” the gentleman continued.
“Yes, sir.”
“I am almost inclined to think that two valedictorians out of one household are more than a fair allowance, especially for one year; your parents must be very proud over two such brilliant children. Are there any more of you to keep up the credit of the family?” the principal inquired, laughing.
“No, sir, Geoffrey and I are all there are,” Gladys answered, and then tripped away to reply to Geoffrey’s telegram with a jubilant letter.
“I am delighted with you, dear Geoff,” she wrote. “Your telegram has made me the happiest girl at Vassar, though my heart failed me a trifle before I opened it, fearing that it might contain bad news. How proud I am of you! for you have climbed mountains of difficulties to attain your goal.