Part 18 (1/2)
”Agnes, your beautiful fungi!”
A knock sounded at the door.
”Come,” called Agnes in mechanical response. There was a pause; then the k.n.o.b turned and the visitor entered with diffident step.
Ethelwynne hastily smoothed her hair with one hand and felt of her belt with the other. ”Oh, good evening, Professor Stratton,” she stuttered from surprised embarra.s.sment, ”I mean, good morning. How do you do? Won't you sit down?”
Agnes turned to look, and rose in sober greeting.
”You see it is spoiled,” she pointed to the ink-splotched drawing. ”It was an accident. You don't know how exceedingly sorry I am, Professor Stratton. The work on your book can go on without it, I hope.”
The older woman forgot her incorrigible shyness in dismay. ”What a shame!
How distressing!” She hurried forward impulsively to examine the sheet.
”Since you brought it to me last night I have been exulting in the thought of it. You have great talent for such work. The time you have spent on it! How distressing!” She stopped in thoughtful fear that she might be adding to the girl's disappointment. ”An accident, you say? How did it happen?”
”Something startled me so that I twirled around in my seat, and my elbow knocked the ink over. I--I am very sorry.” Her lips felt stiff.
Ethelwynne watching with miserable eyes saw her moisten them. They were drooping at the corners.
”It is my fault,” she burst out hurriedly, ”it is all my fault. I made her jump. I startled her on purpose. I said mean things to her because I felt like saying them. I felt like saying them because I had flunked in Latin.
And I flunked in Latin because I took a p-p-pill--oh, no, no! I mean, because I caught cold from staying out on the ice too long. And I stayed out long because I wanted to. And the reason why I caught cold from staying out too long was because my digestion was upset from eating fudge when the doctor told me not to. And I ate the fudge because I wanted it.
And it is all my fault. It is all because I do things just because I want to do them and not because I ought to do them or ought not to do them. I ought to leave them undone, you know. And Prexie says that most miseries in life come from that att.i.tude of I-do-it-because-I-want-to-do-it-and- I-don't-do-it-because-I-don't-want-to-do-it. And now Agnes won't have thirty dollars to send home for Christmas. And it is all my----”
”Hus.h.!.+” said Agnes, ”hush, now, dear! That'll be all right. It was my fault anyhow. I should have had better control of my nerves and learned not to let myself get startled.” She smiled rea.s.suringly across the bowed head into Professor Stratton's concerned eyes.
”I will see what I can do about holding back the ma.n.u.script till you reproduce the drawing,” said the older woman, ”it is barely possible that I can manage it.”
As the door closed softly behind her, Ethelwynne lifted her tear-wet face.
”Agnes, do you think it was the pill that did it?”
”Did what? Everything?”
”Oh, no, no! Was it the pill that made me flunk in Latin?”
”I don't know,” she answered doubtfully, ”perhaps it helped.”
”I want to say it was the pill. I want to believe it was the pill. I want to, but I won't, because it wasn't--not really way down underneath truly, you know. It was my own selfish self.” She reached up both arms to draw Agnes closer in a repentant hug. ”Wynnie's sorry,” she said.
CHAPTER XI
A GIRL TO HAVE FRIENDS
”Laura!” It was a soft little call sent fluttering in through the keyhole. ”Laura, are you there?”
Laura with her chin propped on her hands at one of the broad sills stirred uneasily in her chair and glanced sideways at her roommate who was seated before the other window. Lucine had stopped reading aloud and was regarding the door with an irritable frown on her vivid dark face.
”I do wish, Laura, that you would tell Berta Abbott that an engaged sign on our door means nothing if not the desire for undisturbed privacy. She is the most inconsiderate person in the junior cla.s.s. This is the third time----”
”Laura!” called the voice again, ”answer me! I know you are in there.