"That Miss Ethelinda Hurst. When I went up stairs to dress for dinner I
tried my best to be sociable, and brought up every subject that I
thought would interest her. She barely answered till she found that I
had come out to Warwick Hall from the city alone. That horrified her, to
think I'd taken a step without a chaperon, and she said it in such a way
that I couldn't help saying that I thought one must feel like a poodle
tied to a string--always fastened to a chaperon. As for me give me
liberty or give me death. And she answered, 'Oh, aren't you _queer_!'
Then after awhile I tried again, but she wouldn't draw out worth a cent.
Said she had never roomed with any one before, but supposed it was one
of the disagreeable things one had to put up with when one went away to
school. Imagine! Pleasant for me, wasn't it!"

"Try letting her alone for awhile," advised Betty. "Beat her at her own
game. Play dumb for--say a week."

"But that is so much good time wasted, when we might be chums from the
start. When you're going to bed is the cream of the day. You see you
always had Lloyd, so you don't know what it is like to room with an
oyster."

"Here it is," announced Betty, unwrapping the package she had just
found, and passing it to Mary. "Lloyd's latest photograph, the best she
has ever had taken, in my opinion. It's so lifelike you almost wait to
hear her speak. And I like it because it's so simple and girlish. I
suppose the next one will be taken in evening gown after she makes her
debut."

"Oh, is it for me?" was the happy cry.