rhythmic words so fraught with wisdom. But all she saw was a sort of
heterogeneous mass of whirling colours, and her thoughts, too, seemed
to be just a confused and meaningless jumble. Only her FEELING seemed to
remain. She could hardly bear it; why is it that you can feel with that
intolerably fecund kind of ache while THOUGHTS refuse to come?

She finally gave it up, and rose and dressed. It was one of those
mornings when clothes seem possessed of some demon so that they refuse
to go on right. At breakfast she was unwontedly cross, and "talked back"
to Aunt Nettie so that mother made her apologize. At that moment she
hated Aunt Nettie, and even almost disliked mother. Then she discovered
that Nicky, her little brother, had mischievously hidden her strap of
books and, all of a sudden, she did an unheard-of thing: she slapped
him! Nicky was so astonished he didn't cry; he didn't even run and tell
mother, but Missy, seeing that hurt, bewildered look on his face, felt
greater remorse than any punishment could have evoked. She loved Nicky
dearly; how could she have done such a thing? But she remembered having
read that Poe and Byron and other geniuses often got irritable when in
creative mood. Perhaps that was it. The reflection brought a certain
consolation.

But, at school, things kept on going wrong. In the Geometry class she
was assigned the very "proposition" she'd been praying to elude; and,
then, she was warned by the teacher--and not too privately--that if she
wasn't careful she'd fail to pass; and that, of course, would mean she
couldn't graduate. At the last minute to fail!--after Miss Simpson
had started making her dress, and the invitations already sent to the
relatives, and all!

And finally, just before she started home, Professor Sutton, the
principal, had to call her into his office for a report on her thesis.
The manuscript had to be handed in for approval, and was already past
due. Professor Sutton was very stern with her; he said some kind of an
outline, anyway, had to be in by the end of the week. Of course, being a
grown-up and a teacher besides, he believed everything should be done
on time, and it would be useless to try to explain to him even if one
could.

Raymond Bonner was waiting to walk home with her. Raymond often walked
home with her and Missy was usually pleased with his devotion; he was
the handsomest and most popular boy in the class. But, to-day, even
Raymond jarred on her. He kept ta