"Excusa-me," said Otoyo. "It is when I become a little warm here in my brain that I grow adverbial."
Molly laughed. In her heart there was a secret, unacknowledged feeling of relief that she was going to try to see Professor Green in spite of Miss Fern. It was a relief, too, to find herself in the outdoors after her long vigil of study. The rain beat on her face and the fresh wind nipped her cheeks until they glowed with color.
"You are much too small and feeble to come out in all this weather, Otoyo," she said, slipping her arm through her friend's. "You are so tiny you might easily fall into a puddle and drown."
"Ah, thees is notheeng," cried Otoyo. "In Japan it rains—oceans! And for so long. Days and days without refraining from." She was very apt to use big words instead of smaller ones, her own language being exceedingly formal and grandiose. "Notheeng is dry. Not even within the edifices."
"Houses, Otoyo."
"But a house is an edifice, is it not so?"
"Oh, yes, but we wouldn't use such a showy word."
Otoyo was still puzzling out why the longer word was not the better when they reached the infirmary. The regular nurse of the infirmary who usually sat in the waiting room was not visible to-day. A freshman was ill and she was probably busy, Otoyo explained.
"Who is looking after the Professor?" Molly asked.
Miss Fern, it appeared, assisted by the infirmary nurse, attended her cousin during the day, and his sister nursed him at night. Having imparted this information in a loud whisper, Otoyo started upstairs on tiptoe, Molly following. Somehow, she felt quite courageous and not at all afraid of Miss Fern, with the little Japanese to lead her on.