“No, no. They’re on the Pacific Coast, you know, and will be detained until spring. It’s too far for me to take the trip just for the few days I could spend with them, so I’m going to stay here.”
A year ago Judy would have been in the depths of despair over a separation from her beloved parents at this holiday time. But whether she had gained poise by her recent sufferings or whether spending Christmas with her friend in the big empty Quadrangle appealed to her romantic nature, it would be difficult to tell. Through all the complexities of her nature her devotion to Molly was interwoven like a silver thread, and the shame and remorse she still felt in looking back on that unhappy evening when she had denounced her friend only seemed to draw the two girls more closely together.
Molly gave her a joyous hug.
“Oh, Judy, I am so happy. I never dreamed of such a blessing as this. Even Otoyo is going away this year and hardly half a dozen girls are left in the Quadrangle. I am truly glad I had the courage to decline Millicent’s invitation. It was only for one instant I was tempted to go, but she ruined it by a patronizing speech.”
“What a singular little creature she is,” observed Judy. “She has no charm, if she can beat on silver; and she’s so awfully conscious of her wealth. I don’t know how I could ever have admired her. I suppose I was lured in the beginning by her fine clothes and her grand way of talking.”
“She is very talented,” Molly continued, “but, as you say, she lacks charm. Perhaps she would have been different if she had been poor and obliged to turn her gifts to some use. After all, I think we are happier than rich girls. We are not afraid to be ourselves. We wear old clothes and we have an object in view when we work, because we want to earn money.”
“Earn money,” repeated Judy. “I only wish I could give papa the surprise of his life by earning a copper cent.”
Molly was silent. Her own earning capacity had not been great that winter. She had kept herself in pin money by tutoring, but lately she had made an alarming discovery. When she had first started to college, teaching had been the ultimate goal of her ambitions. She intended to be a teacher in a private school and perhaps later have a school of her own, as Nance wished to do.
Now, as her horizon broadened and her tastes and perceptions began taking form and shape, she found herself drifting farther and farther away from her early ambition. Something was waking up in her mind that had been asleep. It was like a voice crying to be heard, still immensely far away and inarticulate, but growing clearer and more insistent all the time.
It made her uneasy and unsettled. She yearned to express herself, but the power had not yet arrived.