t to do
anything, and I don't want to do nothing either. In fact, this is the
single solitary thing I do want to do. That's the reason why it will be
so agreeable to be a genius. At least, it will be agreeable to me, if not
to my contemporaries and companions. I shall do exactly as I please at
the moment. Another reason will be the thrill of novelty--I'm simply
dying for excitement."

"Thrill of novelty!" groaned Berta. "I infer that you never do as you
please. You continually 'sackerifice' yourself----"

"Yes, yes, of course, but I was afraid you hadn't noticed." Bea raised
her fingers to smooth the corners of her mouth straight. "Now, you've
been growing worse--I mean, more and more of a genius ever since entering
college. I myself ought to be called Prexie's Assistant, somewhat after
the order of Miss Edgeworth's 'Parent's Assistant,' you know, because my
career has been such an awful warning to the undergraduate. But you're an
example----"

"I am not a genius," Berta spoke with biting severity of accent; "Lucine
Brett is a genius, and I despise her."

"You used to despise her," put in Robbie Belle gently.

Berta caught her lip between her teeth for a fleeting instant of
irritation, for she was not naturally meek. Then she glanced at Robbie
with a quick smile all the sweeter for the under-throb of repentance over
her impatient impulse. "All right, I used to long ago. But to return to
our guest. I am not a genius, I hasten to remark again. Furthermore I
shall be excessively obliged if Miss Leigh will march out of this
apartment and stay where she belongs."

In the pause which was occupied by Bea in considering a choice of retorts
stupendous, Robbie spoke again.

"I think Bea misses Lila while she is in the infirmary," she said.

Bea swung magnificently on her heel. "I have decided that the proper
rejoinder is a crushing silence. I wish you good afternoon." At the door
she halted. "And I shall be a genius for a spell. You just watch me and
see. Shelley was lawless, you know, and Burns and Carlyle, I guess, and
Goethe and George Eliot----"

[Illustration: "OH, THANK YOU; I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO EAT"]

"What!"

This was a shout of such indignation that Bea vanished instanter. A
moment later she poked her head around the lintel.

"Well, they were," she said, "and so are you. It is a marvel to me how
you hoodwink Prexie about your work. Pure luck! Vale!"

Berta's repartee consisted of a sofa pillow aimed a