"O'Reilly's?" they cried in one loud protesting shriek.
"Yes, you see, we—we've lost some money and I have to move," began Molly apologetically. "We can be friends just the same, only I won't see quite as much of you—it—it will be harder on me than on you——"
It would have been gratifying if it had not been so sad, this circle of tear-stained faces and every tear shed on her account.
"We simply can't do without you, Molly," cried pretty, affectionate Jessie Lynch. "You belong to the 'body corporate' of Queen's, as Margaret calls it, to such an extent that if you leave us, we'll—well, we'll just fall to pieces, that's all."
It remained for Judy Kean, however, that creature of impulse and emotion, to prove the depths of her affection. When she rushed blindly from the room, her friends had judged that she wished to be alone. Molly had once been a witness to the awful struggle of Judy in tears and she knew that weeping was not a surface emotion with her.
For some time, Molly went on quietly explaining and talking, answering their questions and assuring them that there would be many meetings at O'Reilly's of Queen's girls.
"I expect you'll have to move into Judith Blount's singleton, Nance," she continued, patting her friend's cheek. "That is, unless you can arrange to get someone to share this one with you."
"Don't, don't," sobbed Nance. "I can't bear it."
Again there was a noise outside of trunks being carried upstairs and dumped down in the hall.
"There go poor Judith's trunks," observed Molly. "It will be harder on her than on me because she takes it so hard. She's——"