"I used to, but I began to think last term that that was a mistake. You know, Miss Burnet, I like her." "I don't." "The fact is,"--the girl coloured and drew a long breath,--"I know you won't repeat it, but I have much need to like her. I was in frightful straits for money last term. I actually had a summons served upon me. I could not tell my people at home, and one night, when I was simply in despair, I went to Miss Maclean. I did not like her, but borrowers can afford even less than beggars to be choosers, and she always seemed to have plenty of money. She was by no means the first person I had applied to, and I had ceased to expect anything but refusals. Well, I shall never forget how her face lighted up as she said, 'How good of you to come to me! I know what it is to be short of money myself.' I did not think she gave herself airs then; I would have worked my fingers to the bone, if it had been necessary, to pay her back before the end of term." "I don't see anything so wonderful in that. She had the money, and you had not." "That's all very well. Wait till you have been refused by half-a-dozen people who could quite afford to help you. Wait till you have been treated to delightful theories on the evils of borrowing, when you are half frantic for the want of a few pounds." "I am sure Miss Maclean wastes money enough. I was in the pit at the Lyceum one night, and I saw her and Miss Reynolds in the stalls. I am quite sure none of the money came out of Miss Reynolds' pocket." "Miss Reynolds is a highly favoured person. I quite admit that there is nothing wonderful about _her_. But I like Miss Maclean, and if she gives up medicine she will be a terrible loss." "She has been twice ploughed." "The more shame to the examiners!" "Doris," said Mona a few minutes later, as she entered the æsthetic drawing-room where her friend was sitting alone at tea, "stay me with Mazawattee and comfort me with crumpets, for I have just met my _bête noire_." Doris looked up with a bright smile of welcome. "Come," she said, "'don't be narrow-minded'!" Mona took up a down cushion and threw it at her friend. "Pick that up, please," said Doris quietly. "If my aunt comes in and sees her new Liberty cushion on the floor, it will be the end of you, so far as her good graces are concerned." Mona picked it up, half absently, and replaced it on the sofa. "Well, go on. Tell me all about your _bête noire_. Who is he?" "_He_, of course! How is one to break it to you, dear Doris, that every member of our charming sex is not at once a Hebe and a Minerva?" "I will try to bear up--remembering that 'God Almighty made them to match the men.' Proceed." But Mona did not proceed at once. She drank her tea and looked fierce.