“But you are a wonderful critic,” said Molly. “Among so many scribblers it is well to have one sane person willing to compose the audience. It is my turn to read to-night and I want your criticism.”
“If I can come in that capacity, I am more than willing,” smiled Nance as she settled herself to her knitting.
“I remember many times you saved me from making a bombastic goose of myself on my college themes,” laughed Molly. “What I flattered myself was pathos, under your cool judgment turned out often to be bathos.”
Molly leaned over and gave her friend an affectionate pat. At this show of love, Mary Neil jumped up so suddenly that she upset little Mildred, who was sitting on the sofa by her, and without saying a word rushed from the room.
“What on earth!” exclaimed Molly.
“The suddenness of Mary,—that’s all,” declared Billie.
“Good title for a story!” said Lilian, getting out a note-book.
“Oh, you scribblers!” laughed Nance.
Little Mildred was picked up and comforted and in a short while the visitors took their departure.
“Molly, do you know what was the matter with that interesting looking red-headed girl?” asked Nance as they settled to the delights of a twilight chat, while Nance busily plied her knitting needles on the long drab scarf that seemed to grow under her agile fingers like magic.