"Then why didn't you have it explained?" "I did try." Which was true, for Emily had gone with questions concerning perpetuation of type to her Aunt Cordelia. "What did you want to know?" demanded Miss Carmichael. "About--about the questions at the end for us to answer--about that one, 'What makes types repeat themselves?'" "And what does?" said Miss Carmichael. "That is exactly what I'm trying to find out." Emily looked embarrassed. Aunt Cordelia's answer was the same one that she gave to all the puzzling _whys_, but Emily did not want to give it here. "Come, come, come," said Miss Carmichael. She was standing by her table, and she rapped it sharply, "And what does?" "God," said Emily desperately. She felt the general embarrassment as she sat down. She felt Hattie give a quick look at her, then saw her glance around. Was it for her? Hattie's cheek was red. Rosalie, with her cheek crimson, was looking in her lap. In the High School some have passed out of Eden, while others are only approaching the fruit of the tree. Hattie had glanced at her protectingly, and though Emily did not understand just why, she was glad, for of late she had been feeling apart from Hattie and estranged from Rosalie, and altogether alone and aggrieved. Hattie now wrote herself Harriet, and had seemed to change in the process, though Emily, who had once been Emily Louise herself, felt she had not changed to her friends. But Hattie was one to look facts in the face. "If you're not pretty," she had a while back confided to Emily, "you've got to be smart." And forthwith taking to learning, Hattie was fast becoming a shining light. Rosalie had taken to things of a different nature, which she called Romantic Situations. To have the wind whisk off your hat and take it skurrying up the street just as you meet a boy is a Romantic Situation. Emmy Lou had no sympathy with them, whatever; it even embarrassed her to hear about them and caused her to avoid Rosalie's eye. Perhaps Rosalie divined this, for she took to another thing--and that was Pauline. With arms about each other, the two walked around the basement promenade at recess, while Emily stood afar off and felt aggrieved. [Illustration: "'If you're not pretty, you've got to be smart.'"]