By this time they had reached the study and Molly found herself in a cozy little room lined from ceiling to floor with books. On the desk was a tray of supper. The owner of the study was a studious looking young man with kindly, quizzical brown eyes under shaggy eyebrows, a firm mouth and a cleft in his chin, which Molly had always heard was a mark of beauty in a woman.
“You must be a freshman?” he said looking at her with a shade of amusement in his eyes.
“I am,” replied Molly, bravely trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I only arrived an hour or so ago. I—I didn’t know they would lock——” She broke down altogether and slipping into a big wicker chair sobbed bitterly. “Oh, I wish—I wish I’d stayed at home.”
“Why, you poor little girl,” exclaimed the man. “You have had a beastly time for your first day at college, but you’ll come to like it better and better all the time. Come, dry your eyes and I’ll start you on your way to your lodgings. Where are you stopping?”
“Queen’s.”
“Suppose you drink some hot soup before you go. It will warm you up,” he added kindly, taking a cup of hot bouillon from the tray and placing it on the arm of her chair.
“But it’s your supper,” stammered Molly.
“Nonsense, there’s plenty more. Do as I tell you,” he ordered. “I’m a professor, you know, so you’ll have to obey me or I’ll scold.”
Molly drank the soup without a word. It did comfort her considerably and presently she looked up at the professor and said:
“I’m all right now. I hope you’ll excuse me for being so silly and weak. You see I felt so far away and lonesome and it’s an awful feeling to be locked out in the cold about a thousand miles from home. I never was before.”