I may elect all the math I want. She says I can't write a
little bit. She says that this prize story shows I can't. She says it is
awful--all except the plot, and that isn't mine, you know. She says that
the vocabulary, sentence structure, everything proves me mathematical to
the centre of my soul. She says she has always been afraid she was making
a mistake to force a square peg into a round hole. I'm the peg, you
understand. She says I needn't struggle any more, and she'll be just as
proud of a mathematical genius as of a mechanical author. She says she is
grateful for the honor of the prize, but she thinks the board of editors
made a mistake."

I walked feebly into the room, sank on the couch, and propped myself
against that yellow silk pillow.

"It's horrid to be an editor," I said, "especially when Robbie Belle has
to go and get taken to the infirmary just when I need her most."

"My mother knows," chanted the little freshman, "and she says I can't
write a little bit. She says I can elect mathematics. Whoopee!"

CHAPTER XIII

JUST THIS ONCE

Ellen drummed restlessly on the window pane. "I'm 'most sure it would not
matter just this once. We've had the mildest sort of a fever, and I don't
see yet why they keep us shut up so long away off here. I'm crazy to send
a letter home."

Lila's thin shoulders gave an irritable little shrug under the silken
folds of her dressing-gown, and her finely cut features screwed for an
instant into an expression of impatient dislike. It was only for an
instant--then the mask of her conventional courtesy dropped again between
the two convalescents.

"Why not tell the doctor or the nurse what you wish to write? They will
attend to it for you. Infection may be conveyed in a dozen ways, you
know. We are beginning to peel, and that is the worst----"

"Oh, are we?" broke in Ellen excitedly, "are we really peeling?" She
lifted one hand and examined the wrist. "No, I'm not even beginning.
Every morning the moment I wake up I rub and rub, but it won't peel. It
simply won't. And I've got to stay here till I do. Are you peeling?
Really?"

She darted across to her companion and seized her arm without noticing
the quiver of distaste before it lay limp in her eager grasp.

"Oh, oh, it is, it certainly is! You are peeling. You will get through
first and be set free and go back to the girls. I shall be left here
alone. It isn't fair. We both came the same day. Think of almost six