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Judith looked wise. "I know how she feels," she declared, sagely. "I get awfully excited when I write something good. Why, sometimes I cry, I'm so happy about it, and I jump up and down, too, all by myself." "Bruce says we're going to a French restaurant," she announced proudly. "I hope I can remember enough French to talk politely. Mademoiselle makes us say so many fine sentences when we have our 'calling days' in the French class that I get awfully twisted and never know whether I'm masculine or feminine." "Mark my words, Elinor Kendall," she said impressively. "Some one is at the bottom of this, and I have my suspicions, too, who that someone is. I'm not going to tell, for you girls always laugh at me, but I'm going to prove it to you before that committee meets that you're the victim of a conspiracy.".
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"Poor thing, she's done it at last!" cried Patricia compassionately. "Then what happened?" Elinor gave a hasty assent, but Patricia was ardent. "I must say, Elinor," she began, in response to a question, "that it's very different from what you girls led me to expect." He had written from London, and it was many pages of wonderful things all flavoured with me. He told me about Miss Clinton and what good friends they were, and how much he hoped she would be in Hillsboro when he got here. He said that a great many of her dainty ways reminded him of his "own slip of a girl," especially the turn of her head like a "flower on its stem." At that I got right out of bed like a jack jumping out of a box and looked at myself in the mirror..
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