“Hasn’t any one else asked you yet?” asked Nance.
“No; you see, it’s a week off, and I suppose they are just beginning to think of partners now.”
“All I can say is that if you do go with her you are done for,” announced Nance solemnly.
Molly sat down in the Morris chair and wrinkled her brows.
“I do wish she hadn’t,” she said.
“She just regards you as a sort of life preserver,” exclaimed Judy. “She’s trying to keep above the surface by holding on to you. If I were you, I wouldn’t be bothered with her.”
“Of course, I know,” said Molly, “that Frances Andrews did something last year that put her in the black books with her class. She’s trying to live it down, and they are trying to freeze her out. Nobody has anything to do with her, and she’s not invited to anything except the big entertainments like this. I can’t help feeling sorry for her, and I don’t see how it would do me any harm to go with her. But I just don’t want to go, that’s all. I’d rather take a beating than go.”
“Well, then you are a chump for considering it!” exclaimed Judy, whose self-indulgent nature had little sympathy for people who would do uncomfortable things.
“Then, on the other hand,” continued Molly, “suppose my going would help her a little, don’t you think it would be mean to turn her down? Oh, say you think I ought to do it, because I’m going to, hard as it seems.”
Nance went over and put her arms around her friend, quite an unusual demonstration with her, while Judy seized her hand and patted it tenderly.