anded her high
and dry on the shores of nothingness in the classroom.

"Oh, um-m-m, I haven't determined that point yet. It isn't only great
minds that move slowly." Gertrude's cape swung into view at the turn of
the walk. "Berta, she looks awfully lonesome, doesn't she?"

"Well," argued the other, "nobody can expect us to do all the tagging
around ourselves, especially where a contemporary is concerned. If she
wants us to walk with her, she might omit a few snubs now and then. I'm
tired of chasing after her."

"The trouble is that you are not a faithful friend, faithful friend,"
rattled Bea, "man's faithful friend, the dog. Oh, oh, oh, Berta, I have
an idea!"

"Noble girl!" Berta patted her on the head. "I generously refrain from
comment."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I feared you could not deny yourself that remark
about keeping my idea, as I might never get another. But this one is an
idea about a dog. Let's find a puppy to give Gertrude for a soothing
companion this vacation. I love puppies."

"The question is: does Gertrude also love puppies? Or is it a joke?"

"Let's get a dog and surprise her with it April Fool's morning. He will
be such a friendly little fellow and so faithful that her conscience will
sting her----"

"I must acknowledge that you are a humane, tender-hearted individual. To
plot a stinging conscience----"

"Oh, hush, Berta! Do be nice and agreeable. I'm awfully tired this week,
and I really need some distraction. The corridors stretch out empty and
silent, and breakfast doesn't taste good at all, and--and I want to do
something for Sara."

"Oh, all right!" Berta spied the glint of an excitable tear and shrugged
the weight of common sense from her shoulders. "I'm with you."

Three days passed--three days of blue sky and fluffy clouds and air that
sent Bea dancing from end to end of the long stone wall while Berta
stumped conceitedly along the path in her new rubber boots. Gertrude
wondered aloud why two presumably intelligent young women insisted upon
spending every morning in foolish journeys over muddy country roads.
Noting an unaccustomed accent of peevishness in the energetic voice,
Berta began to worry a bit over the likelihood that such petulance was
due to impending sickness. Bea jeered at this, though with covert side
glances to detect any signs of fever. In her secret soul, where she hid
the notions which she dimly felt looked best in the dark, she reflected
that an attack of som