“‘Why, yes,’ I answered sweetly.  ’Does it annoy you?  I was only singing to pass the time till you turn off the light.  I can’t sleep a wink.  We’ll just compromise.’

“She turned it out in a jiffy and didn’t say a word, but I notice that she pays attention to the signals now, and does her reading before they sound ‘taps.’  All this is teaching yours truly a wonderful amount of self control, and I have come to the conclusion that everything at Warwick Hall, disagreeables and all, are working together for my good.”

So matters went on for several weeks.  Mary meekly hung up Ethelinda’s dresses and put the room in order whenever it was disarranged, and Ethelinda, always accustomed to being waited upon, took it as a service due her from one whom necessity had placed in a position always to serve.  If she had accepted it silently Mary might have gone on to the end of the term making excuses for her, and making good her neglect; but Ethelinda remarked one day to one of the Sophomores that if Mary Ware ever wanted a recommendation as lady’s maid she would gladly give it.  She seemed naturally cut out for that.

The remark was repeated without loss of time, and in the same patronizing tone in which it was made.  Mary’s boasted self-control flew to the four winds.  She was half way down the stairs when she heard it, but turning abruptly she marched back to her room, her cheeks red and her eyes blazing.  Throwing open the door she gave one glance around the room.  The disorder happened to be a little worse than usual.  A wet umbrella leaned against her bed, and Ethelinda’s damp coat lay across the white counterpane, for she had been walking in the rain, and had thrown them down in the most convenient spot on entering.  Other articles were scattered about promiscuously, but Mary made no attempt as usual to put them in place.

[Illustration:  “INSTEAD, IT SEEMED AS IF A SMALL CYCLONE SWEPT THROUGH THE ROOM.”]

Instead, it seemed as if a small cyclone swept through the room.  The wet umbrella was sent flying across to Ethelinda’s bed.  Gloves, coat, and handsome plumed hat followed, regardless of where they lit, or in what condition.  Half a dozen books went next, tumbling pell mell into a corner.  Then Ethelinda’s bed-room slippers, over which Mary was always stumbling, hurtled through the air, and an ivory hair-brush that had been left on her dressing-table.  They whizzed perilously near Ethelinda’s head.

“There!” exclaimed Mary, choking back the angry tremble in her voice.  “I’m worn out trying to keep this room in order for order’s sake!  The next time I find your things on my side of the room I’ll pitch them out of the window!  It’s no excuse at all to say that you’ve always had somebody to wait on you.  You’ve always had your two hands, too.  A lady is supposed to have some sense of her own obligations and of other people’s rights.  Now don’t you dare get on my side again!”