"Miss St. Clair, will you come and be introduced to Miss Randolph?"
The St. Clair walked up demurely and took my hand. Her words were in abrupt contrast. "Where are her things going, Miss Bentley?" I wondered that pretty lips could be so ungracious. It was not temper which appeared on them, but cool rudeness.
"Madame said we must make some room for her," Miss Bentley answered.
"I don't know where," remarked Miss Macy. "I have not two inches."
"She can't have a peg nor a drawer of mine," said the St. Clair. "Don't you put her there, Bentley." And the young lady left us with that.
"We must manage it somehow," said Miss Bentley. "Lansing, look here, can't you take your things out of this drawer? Miss Randolph has no place to lay anything. She must have a little place, you know."
Lansing looked up with a perplexed face, and Miss Macy remarked that nobody had a bit of room to lay anything.
"I am very sorry," I said.
"It is no use being sorry, child," said Miss Macy; "we have got to fix it, somehow. I know who ought to be sorry. Here—I can take this pile of things out of this drawer; that is all I can do. Can't she manage with this half?"
But Miss Lansing came and made her arrangements, and then it was found that the smallest of the four drawers was cleared and ready for my occupation.