Nance was stirring fudge on the chafing dish and Judy was occupying herself strumming chords on the piano. Molly led Minerva to the divan and sat down beside her.
“Are you glad you came to college, Minerva?” she asked, wondering what in the world to talk about.
“No,” answered the other emphatically. “I detest college. Except that the studies are higher, I think Mill Town High School is better run. I don’t like college girls, either. They are all conceited snobs.”
“Perhaps you will like it better when you are a sophomore and have more liberty,” suggested Molly. “The first year one can’t look forward to much pleasure. But a freshman is always under inspection, you see. If she accepts the situation without complaining and is nice and obliging and modest, it’s like so much treasure laid by for her the next year when she finds how popular she is with the other girls.”
“It’s not like that in Mill Town. A freshman is just as good as anybody else,” snapped Minerva.
Judy, overhearing this statement, blinked at Nance, who smiled furtively and went on stirring fudge.
Molly still persisted with the patience of one who looks for certain success.
“The most interesting part of being a freshman,” she continued, “is that a girl begins to find out about herself, and by the time she’s a sophomore she knows what she really wants.”
“Oh, but I knew perfectly well what I wanted before I came,” interrupted Minerva in a lofty tone, “I want to study the dead languages.”
“But there is something you want more than that,” broke in Molly. “You want to be popular.”