The girls had never seen her looking so pretty. They waited for her to mention the note, but she talked of other things until Judy, always impatient to force events, exclaimed:
“What was that note you were waving at us this afternoon, Nance?”
“Oh, that was from——”
A tap on the door interrupted her and Margaret Wakefield entered.
“Oh, Nance,” she cried, “I am so excited over your mother’s coming to speak at college to-morrow afternoon. Isn’t it fine of her? It’s Miss Bowles, Professor in Advanced Math., who is bringing her, you know, of course?”
Except that her face turned perfectly white, Nance showed no sign whatever that she had received a staggering blow, but her two friends felt for her deeply and Molly came to her rescue.
“By the way, Nance, dearest,” she said, “I thought you might want to have your mother with you to-morrow night, and I was going to offer you my bed and turn in with Judy.”
“Thanks, Molly,” answered Nance, huskily; “that would be nice.”
Very little ever escaped the alert eyes of Margaret Wakefield; but if she noticed anything strange in Nance’s manner, she made no comment whatever. She was a fine girl, full of sympathy and understanding, with a certain well-bred dignity of manner that is seldom seen in a young girl.
“It will be quite a gala event at Queen’s if Mrs. Oldham eats supper here,” she said gently; “but no doubt she will be claimed by some of the faculty.” Then she slipped quietly out of the room, just in time, for quiet, self-contained Nance burst suddenly into a storm of weeping and flung herself on the bed.