“I wonder how long Miss Monroe has known Miss Cairns?” she now mused aloud.
“Long enough to know better. There you go again, worrying over that selfish iceberg,” Muriel cried impatiently. “I might beneficently warn her against the snares of the Hob-goblin, but would she be grateful? Far from it. No, no, Muriel. Never contemplate such folly.” Muriel answered her own question in a prim, horrified tone.
“I quite agree with Muriel,” Marjorie smiled faintly.
“Some of the upper class girls may tell her a few things about Leslie Cairns. They’d not forget her and the Sans in a hurry. If you had to room with her you’d lose your crush on her. She’s exasperating.”
“I can’t help admiring her. She is so beautiful,” Marjorie made frank avowal. “I always have to stop and remember that she isn’t amiable. There was one thing in particular that I noticed on the night last summer when we invited her downstairs to Miss Remson’s spread. She was truthful. She didn’t say she was too tired, or make any other excuses. She said flatly that she _didn’t care to come downstairs_. Again, afterward, when we were in Vera’s car and met her out walking one Sunday afternoon, we asked her to ride with us. She refused our invitation in the same scornful way. Still it was the _real_ way she felt. A girl who wouldn’t bother to deceive others must have principle,” Marjorie earnestly advanced.
“Hum-m. That remains to be seen.” Muriel was not thus easily convinced. “But will I be the one to see? At present the Ice Queen and I are as intimate as the North and South Poles. We don’t even study at the same table.”
“Poor old Muriel. Was it lonesome?” Marjorie flung an arm across Muriel’s shoulders. They were now turning in at the flagstone walk in front of Silverton Hall.
“Yes, it was,” grumbled Muriel. “But it’s my own fault. I took that half a room to please myself. You girls ought to appreciate me and make a fuss over me because I refused to be separated from the Sanfordites.”
“I’ll call a special meeting after the Travelers go tonight and remind the Sanfordites of their duty,” Marjorie teasingly promised as they went up the steps of the Hall.
The blended harmony of violin and piano outside Robin Page’s room halted the visitors before the closed door. They had no more than willingly paused to listen when the music stopped.