“You funny child,” exclaimed Molly; “how do you know you are not all those things right now?”
“I know I’m not,” sighed Judy. “Papa is brilliant, and not a bit lazy. He works all the time.”
“So would you if you only wanted to. You only choose to be lazy. If I had your mind and opportunities there is no end to what I would do.”
Judy looked at her in surprise.
“Why, Molly, do you think I have any mind?” she asked.
“One of the best in the freshman class,” answered her friend. “But look, here are some letters!”
She paused in the hall of Queen’s Cottage to look over a pile of mail which had been brought that afternoon.
There were several letters for the girls; Judy’s bi-weeklies from both her parents, who wrote to her assiduously, and Molly’s numerous home epistles from her sisters and mother. But there were two, one for each of the girls, with the Exmoor postmark on them.
Molly opened hers first.
“Oh, Judy,” she exclaimed, “do you remember that nice Exmoor Sophomore named ‘Upton?’ He wants to come over Saturday afternoon to call and go walking. Dodo has probably written the same thing to you. I see you have an Exmoor letter.”