Part 26 (1/2)
Miss Whiton certainly merits the honor.”
It seemed to Bea that Miss More looked after the older woman with an expression of half-puzzled surprise at her own indecision. Then she turned to Robbie.
”I remember that evening,” she spoke in a curiously softened tone.
”Elizabeth sat in the glow of the drop-light and scribbled this card, while the rest of us watched her idly, and talked, half serious, half in fun over the novelty of choosing our mottoes. It was Elizabeth who had proposed it. She had such a shy, sweet, humorous way of being good.
Everybody loved her.”
Robbie nodded speechlessly. After a moment she said, ”The rest of your verse is 'Love suffereth long and is kind.'”
The deep-set eyes clouded again under the dusky hair.
”I--have--suffered,” she said slowly.
Bea pinched her own arm in a quick agony of vicarious embarra.s.sment. How could a person show her feelings right out like that before anybody? What was the use of going around talking about such things? It was not very polite to make other people uncomfortable. Bea smothered a quick little sob and walked on, staring straight ahead.
It was Robbie who turned to look into the face so near her own. She saw the clouds lift before the dawning of an exquisite smile like a ray of suns.h.i.+ne after a stormy day.
”'Love suffereth long and is kind,'” repeated the oddly gentle voice. ”I have suffered, and I will try--to be kind. I think Elizabeth would have been glad.”
”Elizabeth is glad,” said Robbie Belle.
CHAPTER XV
VICTORY
At her escape into the corridor Berta paused for a moment in the shadow of the staircase to brush the excitement from her glowing face. She winked rapidly once or twice in hopes of smothering the sparkle in her eyes, but succeeded only in nicking a happy tear drop from her lashes.
Then she smoothed the dimple from her cheek and tried to straighten her lips into the sober dignity proper for a senior who was on the honor list and had just come from an interview with the critic of her commencement essay.
Her efforts were all in vain, however, for at the very minute that the dimple came dancing out again and the rebellious mouth quivered back into its joyous curves, somebody with a swift tap-tap-tap of light heels flew down the stairs in a rustle and a flutter and darted toward Berta.
”They've come! They're here! The Board of Editors is going to meet in the lecture room immediately to open the boxes. Four big beautiful boxes full of splendid great books all in green with gilt lettering. Hurry! Hurry quick yourself! You're head literary editor. It's really your book--the ideas, editorials, verses, farce, everything! The sale opens at five.
Everybody's crazy to see the new senior Annual. Our Annual! Oh, Berta!”
She seized the taller girl around the waist and whirled her down the hall till loose sheets of paper from her dangling note-book flitted merrily hither and yon.
”Bea, take care! You're crumpling my essay.”
”Your essay? Oh, that's so! Senior president, Annual editor, honor girl, commencement speaker, graduate fellow-heigho! She 'bore her blus.h.i.+ng honors thick upon her.' No wonder you look uplifted. Listen! Behold! Tell me, do her little feet really touch the solid humble earth?”
As mischievous Bea stopped, with anxiety and awe written large on her saucy features to investigate Berta's shoes, a door near them opened and a slender woman with fast-graying hair and a curiously still face emerged. There was the ghost of a twinkle in her gray eyes. The transom had not been entirely closed.
”Miss Abbott, may I take that essay again, for a few minor suggestions?
If you will drop in after chapel I shall have it ready for you. Permit me once more to congratulate you on its excellence and originality. It has never been my pleasure to read any undergraduate work of greater promise.” She withdrew after the nicker of a quizzical smile in Bea's direction.
That young lady gasped and then happening to notice that her mouth was ajar carefully closed it with the aid of both hands.
”Berta Abbott! To have your essay praised by Miss Thorne the terrible, who never approves of anything, and yet you stand there like a common mortal! You live, you breathe, you walk, you talk, just the same as you used to do! She says it has promise. I do believe that she never said as much before about anybody except maybe Shakespeare when he was young. Oh, just wait until she sees the Annual!”