College students -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Juvenile fiction
"Being brought up in a parlor ought to give her parlor manners," Nance
thought, but she had not voiced her thought to the sensitive Judy, who
really had not intended to force Adele Windsor on her chums. It was only
that Adele had a way of taking for granted she was _persona grata_, that
Nance thought was rather too free.
Molly, always polite to guests whether welcome or not, greeted Adele
cordially and made her a cup of tea.
"We were just discussing Otoyo Sen's funny little father," she
explained, in order to draw Adele into the conversation. "He's been here
to call--the queerest English!" And Molly repeated some of Mr. Sen's
absurd speeches.
Adele listened with interest. She was always interested in everything,
one might almost say inquisitive, and she had a peculiar way of making
people say things they regretted. Judy, artless soul, had told her
everything she knew long ago. And now, turning her intelligent dark eyes
from one to another and occasionally putting out a pointed question,
Adele succeeded in starting a new discussion on Otoyo's father. With the
most innocent intentions in the world, they imitated his voice and
manner, his stiff formal bows and his funny squeaky laugh.
It was not until later when the friends had scattered to tidy up for
supper that Molly felt any misgivings about having made fun of Otoyo's
father, and these she kept to herself, feeling, indeed, that they were
unworthy of her. Adele had not left with the others. She was to remain
for supper with Judy, and the two girls sat chatting together while
Molly took a cat-nap and Nance began clearing away the tea things.
"You shall not help," she had insisted, when Molly had offered to do her
share. "You are dead tired and I'm not, so go and rest and don't
bother."
Nance's manner was often brusquest when she was tenderest, but Molly
understood her perfectly. She _was_ very tired. What with her new duties
on the _Commune_, club meetings and the pressure of studies, the world
was turning so fast she felt that she might fly off into space at any
moment.
"Professor Green would have scolded me for trying to overdo things," she
was thinking, half sadly. Gradually her body relaxed and her eyelids
dropped. Through the mists of half consciousness she heard the musical
rattle of the tea things, and presently there came the catchy, rather
nasal tones of Adele's voice over the clatter of china and silver.
"I like all your friends, Judy. They are remarkably bright."
"Aren't they a sparkling little coterie," answered Judy proudly.
"Now, Miss Wakefield is a born leader. Of course a leader must have the
gift of gab. She's a great talker, isn't she? Takes the conversation
right into her own hands and keeps it there, doesn't she?"
"Margaret does talk a lot," Judy admitted.
"Too much perhaps for any one not deeply interested, but then of course
I always am. Now, Edith Williams is the brighter of the two, but she
knows it, don't you think so?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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