United States or Hungary ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Lucine turned her head slowly to watch the group of girls wander into the office and light the gas amid a flutter of papers and dressing-gowns mixed with sleepy yawns and tired laughter. Then some one shut the door. Lucine was still sitting in the shadowy window-seat, her essay clutched tightly in her hand. After a minute she rose, walked toward the door, and lifted her arm as if to knock.
They glanced at the dusky transom, laughed over the tardiness of their stern editor-in-chief, and sat down on a convenient box to wait. Lucine after an intent scrutiny to identify the two seniors as subordinate editors turned again to the moon, and listened half unconsciously to the low trickle of words till suddenly her own name roused her alert. "Yes, they're the favorite candidates."
"When you are editor, Laura, will you try to like me still? And will you keep on forgiving me and helping helping me to deserve to have friends? And will you will you teach me how to make Harriet like me too?" "Oh, Lucine!" Laura flung her warm arms around the bowed neck. "I know what we shall do next year, if I can come back. The idea has just struck me.
For an instant Lucine lay motionless; then with a swift hungry gesture she reached out her arms and swept the younger girl close to her heart. "Laura, I can't spare you, I can't spare you. You are all I have. Forgive me and let me try again. It is an evil spirit that made me talk that way. And, oh, Laura, dear, I want you to like me better than you like Berta. I need you more."
If the success of the article was in question, she certainly could not interfere further. Lucine wrote on, paying no heed to the gong except for the tribute of an impatient frown at the sound of many feet clicking past in the corridor, with a rustling of skirts and light chat of voices.
"Laura," she whispered, "I can't spare you, Laura. You shall come back next year, and we shall room together again, you and I." Without a backward look toward the drawer where the manuscript lay buried, Lucine gathered up note-book and fountain-pen and departed for the library.
Berta is my friend. You shall not speak of her like that to me. Say you're sorry quick! Oh, Lucine, say you didn't mean it and are sorry." "I am not sorry," said Lucine distinctly, "and I did mean it. I am glad I have dared to speak the truth about her. She is shallow and disagreeable." "And what are you?" Laura sprang to her feet.
"Excuse me, Miss Brett. Were you just going out? I'm glad I did not disturb you. Shall I hold it open for you?" She stepped to one side and waited gravely without moving a muscle till Lucine after a withering stare had stalked angrily back to her window. The corner of Berta's mouth gave a quick, queer little twitch before settling back into proper solemnity. "Come, Laura. You'd better.
Lucine heard a sigh. "I've promised to be her friend and I do care for her dearly; but I want with all my heart to room with Harriet, if I can manage to get back for next year. I'm almost sure I shan't. Now, see here, does this verb come from vinco or vincio? I'm so sleepy I can't read straight." Lucine very white about the lips was sitting erect in her corner.
She could not see the two girls bending over the table on the other side of the bookcase behind which she was nestling. But their voices floated mistily to her ears. "Laura, remember that you have promised to live with my sister next year. Don't let Lucine coax or frighten you out of it. You have promised." "But if I don't come back?"
Word Of The Day