“Your name is ‘Molly Brown,’ and you come from Kentucky, isn’t that so?” asked Sally Marks, taking Molly’s chin in her hand and looking into her eyes.
“And yours?” went on the inquisitive Sally, turning to Molly’s roommate.
“Is Nance Oldham, and I come from Vermont,” finished Nance promptly.
“You’re both dears. And I am ever so glad you are in Queens. You won’t think I’m patronizing if I give you a little advice, will you?”
“Oh, no,” said the two girls.
“You know Wellington’s full of nice girls. I don’t think there is a small college in this country that has such a fine showing for class and brains. But among three hundred there are bound to be some black sheep, and new girls should always be careful with whom they take up.”
“But how can we tell?” asked Nance.
“Oh, there are ways. Suppose, for instance, you should meet a girl who was good-looking, clever, rich, with lots of pretty clothes, and all that, and she seemed to have no friends. What would you think?”
“Why, I might think there was something the matter with her, unless she was too shy to make friends.”
“But suppose she wasn’t?” persisted Sally.