Griffin made a face over a sip of over-heated cocoa. "Just as you please," she murmured benevolently. "Make the best of it, like a good child. Charity is the chief Christian virtue and an ornament to all. Are you going in for the prize design, Howes? I hear that it's open to the whole class."
"Haven't heard of it," replied Margaret Howes, with eager interest. "What is it? And who's giving it?"
"Roberts, the big New York decorator. He's offering a hundred dollars for the best design for a panel for a library—originality to be the chief feature. Popsy Brown told me. I thought it had been announced."
"It wasn't on the bulletin board this afternoon," said a girl across the table, who had been listening to this last speech. "Tell us about it, Griffie dear. We're all dying to hear."
"Spout it out loud!" called another from the end of the table. "We can't catch your muffled accents down here."
The announcement of the prize was received with such lively interest that it routed all other subjects, and even Patricia caught the enthusiasm.
"I hope Elinor tries for it," she said excitedly. "She'll say she's too green, I suppose."
"Tell her to make a hack at it anyway," urged Margaret Howes earnestly. "Originality is the thing that counts, and she's got as good a chance as any of us there."
"Better," said Griffin tersely. "We're so filled with other people's ideas that we've degenerated into regular copy-cats. I can't undertake any subject but that I have a lot of designs by famous painters popping into my mind and mixing me up horribly."
"I wish I could draw," mused Patricia, absently sugaring her Frankfurter. "I've got tons of ideas already."