Betty Wales, Sophomore by Margaret Warde
page 57 of 240 (23%)
page 57 of 240 (23%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I'm a bit tired," she answered,
indifferently, "But I couldn't stop. The girls simply wouldn't let me, though Blanche Norton was willing to take my place. I was a goose to tell them that I could read palms. Look out for that white satin pillow, Maudie. Yes, the yellow one is mine, but I can't carry it. I'm too done up to carry anything but myself." "Now that," said Madeline, decidedly, as soon as Eleanor was out of hearing, "that is all wrong,--every bit of it. It's not the fun she wants. She doesn't even care about the money for the good cause. It's the honor and the chance to show off her own cleverness that she's after." Madeline waited a moment. "Is she so clever, Betty?" "Oh, yes," cried Betty eagerly. "Don't you remember her theme?" "To be sure." Madeline's eyes twinkled. "I'd forgotten her wonderful theme. Oh, well, then I suppose she is clever--but I'm sorry for her." "Why?" asked Betty quickly. Surely Madeline could not know anything about Eleanor's stepmother, and nowadays her career at Harding was a series of delightful triumphs. More reason why Madeline should envy, than pity her, Betty thought. "Oh, for lots of reasons," answered Madeline easily, "but chiefly because she's so anxious about getting things for herself that she can't enjoy them when she's got them; and secondly because something worries her. Watch her face when she isn't smiling, and when she thinks nobody is noticing her. It's so wonderfully sad and so perfectly beautiful that it makes me pity her in spite of myself," ended Madeline with a sudden rush of feeling. "But I can't love her, even for you, you funny child," she |
|