t the softest spot on the rug," she complained whimsically,
"but there wasn't any other way to wake her up. And I simply had to have
some sympathy. Oo-oo-ooh, Wynnie's freezing!"

Agnes had returned to her brushes and was wiping them dry in heartless
silence.

"Wynnie's freezing, I say."

"Say it again," counseled the other's calm voice. "I am so provoked at
myself for jumping at every little noise! It is shameful to have so
little control over my own nerves even if I am tired. Ah! what was that?"

"Jump again," advised Ethelwynne in a tone that was meant to be serene
but proved rather jerky. "It was nothing but my teeth chattering and
clicking together."

"Generally it's your tongue," retorted Agnes with interest but broke off
in this promising repartee to exclaim with genuine anxiety, "Why, Wynnie,
child, you have a regular chill. Lie down quick and let me cover you up.
Have you been out skating ever since I left you on the lake?"

"Yes, I have," she replied with an air of defiance, "you needn't preach.
I couldn't bear to come in. Everybody out. We had square dances,
shinney-on-the-ice, wood tag. Perfectly glorious! Such a splendid elegant
sunset behind the bare trees! I simply had to stay. Beatrice Leigh and
her crowd were there. A big moon came sailing up. We skated to
music--somebody whistled it. I couldn't bear to stop. I wanted to stay, I
tell you. I wanted to stay."

"Hm-m," said Agnes, "I wanted to stay too. But what with the Latin test
to-morrow and this plate for the book on fungi to be sent off in the
morning, I managed to tear myself away."

"You're different. Oo-oo-ooh!" Ethelwynne shivered violently again. "You
like to deny yourself. You enjoy discipline. It gives you pleasure to do
what you hate. You love duty just because it is disagreeable."

"My--land!" Agnes clutched her own head. "The infant must have slipped up
a dozen times too often. Did the horrid bad ice smite her at the base of
the brain? Poor little darling! Is her intellect all mixedy-muddle-y? We
will fix it right for her. We'll give her a pill."

"I think I have caught cold," moaned her roommate from the depths of the
blankets.

Agnes looked judicial. "Our doctor at home has a theory that people take
cold easily when they have been eating too much sweet stuff. He says that
colds are most frequent after Thanksgiving. Now I wonder--I believe--why,
you surely did go to a meeting of the fudge-club in Martha's room last
night. Ethe