ompanion, but stopped her hissing to ask, "What?" Then
she came to herself and said, "Oh! Saunders."

"I don't mean your last name," said the other, "I mean your first
name."

"Cornelia," said the owner of it, as briefly as before.

"I should have thought it would have been Gladys," the other suggested.

Cornelia looked up in astonishment and some resentment. "Why in the
world should my name be Gladys?" she demanded.

"I don't know," the other explained. "But the first moment I saw you in
the office, I said to myself, 'Of course her name is Gladys.' Mine is
Charmian."

"Is it?" said Cornelia, not so much with preoccupation, perhaps, as
with indifference. She thought it rather a nice name, but she did not
know what she had to do with it.

"Yes," the other said, as if she had somehow expected to be doubted.
"My last name's Maybough." Cornelia kept on at her work without remark,
and Miss Maybough pursued, as if it were a branch of autobiography,
"I'm going to have lunch; aren't you?"

Cornelia sighed dreamily, as she drew back for an effect of her
drawing, which she held up on the table before her, "Is it time?"

"Do you suppose they would be letting me talk so to you if it weren't?
The monitor would have been down on me long ago."

Cornelia had noticed a girl who seemed to be in authority, and who sat
where she could oversee and overhear all that went on.

"Is she one of the students?" she asked.

Miss Maybough nodded. "Elected every month. She's awful. You can't do
anything with her when she's on duty, but she's a little dear when she
isn't. You'll like her." Miss Maybough leaned toward her, and joined
Cornelia in a study of her drawing. "How splendidly you're getting it.
It's very _chic_. Oh, anybody can see that _you've_ got genius!"

Her admiration made no visible impression upon Cornelia, and for a
moment she looked a little disappointed; then she took a basket from
under the table, and drew from it a bottle of some yellowish liquid, an
orange and a bit of sponge cake. "Are you going to have yours here?"
she asked, as Cornelia opened a paper with the modest sandwich in it
which she had made at breakfast, and fetched from her boarding-house.
"Oh, I'm so glad you haven't brought anything to drink with you! I felt
almost sure you hadn't, and now you've got to share mine." She took a
cup from her basket, and in spite of Cornelia's protest that she never
drank anything but water at dinner, she poured it ful