ke
life easily.

What they did, once they were in the privacy of their own rooms, was,
of course, strictly their own business. Two or three, who believed
that rest was essential, had solemnly gone to bed. A dozen or even
more of the seriously inclined had hung "Busy" signs on the panel of
their doors, through the transoms of which the greenish illumination of
the students' lamps burning within told their own story. The others,
philosophically believing that if they were going to pass they would,
and if they were destined to flunk they would do so in spite of the
best-intentioned efforts at study, were cheerfully whiling away the two
hours of grace in subdued revelry.

Alma, who had every reason to doubt that she would shine in her
examinations unless she made a superhuman effort at cramming, and who,
at the same time, was unable to comfort herself with Mildred's
philosophical indifference, was curled up on her bed, her fingers in
her ears, struggling to make the lines she read convey some sense to
her weary brain.

"I say, Milly, will you ask me some questions?" she suggested at
length, lifting a weary face from her book. "I don't know _what_ I
know."

"Oh, bother! Don't study any more. What does it matter even if you
don't pass?" said Mildred. "For goodness' sake don't you turn into a
grind like Nancy. One thing I refuse to do is to room with anyone
who's studious."

"But I'll flunk, as sure as fate," objected Alma, "and--and I don't
want to, Milly."

"You're a bit late finding that out. It's not going to do you a bit of
good to stuff now."

"Don't your father and mother mind if you don't pass?"

"Oh, Mother doesn't care a bit. She is always worrying herself to
death for fear I'm overstudying. Dad sometimes rows at me about my bad
marks, but Mother always takes my part. Besides this is my last year
of school, and what earthly good will Latin or Algebra do me when I
come out?"

"I suppose they really aren't much use," agreed Alma, finding this a
very comforting notion. "Of course, it's different with Nancy; she
wants to go to college."

"Well, of course if one wants to be a school teacher," said Mildred
with a very faint sneer. "But that's a ridiculous idea for anyone
who's as pretty as you are."

Alma hesitated; she felt the slight cast on Nancy in Mildred's remark,
but she was afraid to resent it, and told herself that she would not be
justified in doing so. She was silent for a moment,