n
the history alcove of the library, she was vaguely aware of a newcomer
sauntering carelessly behind her chair. A heavy book clattered to the
floor, and somebody's elbow in stooping to pick it up nudged her arm. Her
pen went scratching in a mad zigzag across the neat page and deposited a
big tear of red ink where it suddenly stopped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," exclaimed Bea repentantly, for she was indeed the
culprit; "it's horrid to be heedless on purpose. I didn't know it would
really do any harm."

Berta glanced up quickly from her blotter. So Bea considered a reckless
disregard for books and persons also a quality of genius. Berta felt a
slow blush creeping up to her brow at the candid memory of her tendency
to bump into things and brush against people when in a dreamy mood--and
to pass on without even a beg pardon.

"You're evidently new to the business, my cautious and calculating young
friend," she whispered, "you should have ignored the resultant calamity.
Ah--why, child!" she stared in surprise, "your collar is pinned crooked
and your turnover is flying loose at one end, and your hair is coming
down. You look scandalous."

Bea looked triumphant also. "It's an artistic disarray," she explained.
"It's hard work because I've slipped into the habit of being prim and
precise, and I had to bend a pin intentionally. Four girls already have
warned me about my hair falling down. It worries me a lot and yet it
doesn't give the same effect as yours. Does yours feel loose and
straggly?"

Berta's hand flew to her head. "You sinner! Mine is just as usual."

"Yes, I know it," assented Bea innocently, "it's a negligee style. I'm
being a geni----"

"Go away!" Berta snatched up her bottle of red ink. "Fly, villain,
depart, withdraw, retreat, abscond, decamp,--in short, go away!"

Bea went, holding her neck stiffly on one side to balance the sensation
of unsteadiness above her ears. Berta watched her with a wavering
expression that veered from wrathful amusement to uneasy reflectiveness.
Was it really true that she dressed so untidily as this little scamp made
out? Perhaps she did slight details once in a while, but though not
scrupulously dainty like Lila, still she tried to be neat enough on the
whole. Could it be possible that the other girls criticised her so
severely as this?

The suspicion bothered her so effectually that she left the library five
minutes early and hurried to her room for a few renovating touches before