“I don’t know what to do,” said Leslie after a small lull, “whether to hunt some other place, or stand this--” “Our trunks are all here,” Viola stated, “and it would be hard to move--” (she had unpacked, and I found later she hated effort) “I wondered whether we couldn’t get a few little extra things--curtains, and cushions and so on? And the food we could supplement. I can make fudge and chicken king.” “I am certain I can make tea,” said Leslie, “it’s only a matter of the proper pot and a spirit lamp and some water, and then throwing the stuff in--I’ve seen it done dozens of times.” “And we could buy rolls and things--” Then they paused to consider it. “Don’t most students do that sort of thing anyway?” I asked. “It _would_ be Bohemian,” said Leslie, in a more energetic voice than I’d heard her use before. “And after we get famous they’ll photograph this ghastly hole, and say _we lived here_--” Viola added, with a far-away, pleased look. “I’m willing to try it,” agreed Leslie, in a dull tone I felt she put on. “I don’t care much--what happens now, anyway!” “Poor darling!” murmured Viola, and in that “Poor darling,” I saw the shadow of a row, for I knew that Viola couldn’t keep that up all the time, and I knew that when she stopped Leslie would be angry, and I knew that they were too foolishly and sentimentally intimate to remain good friends. However, I never dreamed for a second, then, that they would come to _me_ to complain about each other! Which was just what they did! It was dreadful for me; there was a time when I never went into my room without finding one or the other waiting to sniff out their tales, tales which they almost always prefaced in this way: “I _never_ talk about my friends--” (sniff) “You can ask” (gulp) “_any one_ where I do--” (sniff) “but I want you to know that I have never been treated--” (gulp-sniff) “as I have been treated since I came to this place in company--” (real sob) “with that--that _creature_!” When I think of it now, and then that first call, I could, as Viola says, “Simply _scream_, my dear!” But I’m getting ’way ahead of my own story. At half past eight, I stood up. “Well, I guess I’d better go now,” I said, but neither Leslie nor Viola said, “Oh, _don’t_ hurry--” as I supposed people always did, and so I did go. As I reached the door--alone--Leslie spoke: “We go to see Signor Paggi to-morrow, don’t we?” she asked. “Yes,” I answered, “at one.” “We might as well go together,” she suggested, “although--” (her tone was too careless, and she avoided looking at me) “we, of course, won’t expect to act like Siamese triplets, will we?” “I shall be busy a great deal,” I stated, as I felt myself flush, and then I went out, and after a stiff good-night, went down the hall to my own room. It did seem to me that Leslie had been unnecessarily unkind in giving that hint, for I had only gone because I supposed it was polite, and I certainly never would push in! Mother had never _let_ us do that!