I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself clear down to
the ground." Here the dimple vanished in earnest. "I know I'm ashamed of
myself, and so's Berta. Even her lips were white. Now we've hurt her
feelings worse. I didn't think. Nice big splendid excuse for a sophomore,
isn't it?"

"There's the gong for luncheon," was Gertrude's only reply as she moved
toward the door.

Bea's flare of denunciation had subsided quickly in her characteristic
manner. She sat absently nibbling the handle of the obliging pan, while
staring after the receding figure, its girlish slenderness stiffened as
if to warn away all friendliness. "She's stubborner than ever. I say,
Berta, let's reconcile them."

"Oh, let's!" in echoing enthusiasm, adding as the beauty of the plan
glowed brighter, "they'll probably thank us to the last day that they
live. I know I would, if it were Robbie and I who were drifting farther
and farther apart."

"Very likely," responded the arch-conspirator, beginning at the lower
edge of the tin doubtless itself delicious from long association with
dainties, "but the question is: How are we going to do it? One is proud,
and the other is proud too. I don't see exactly how we can fix it."

As Berta did not see either, they decided with considerable sound sense
meanwhile to go to luncheon. The next day after many minutes of
discouraging meditation mingled with a few hours of tennis in the
gymnasium, an idea came to them. While they rested on the window ledge,
watching Gertrude stroll to and fro in the sunshine balmy at last, Bea
began to waste her breath as usual.

"'To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow drags out its weary course from
day to day,'" she quoted with mindless cheerfulness, only to interrupt
herself good naturedly, "say, Berta, do you realize that the third
to-morrow aforementioned is April Fool's Day? I wish something
interesting would happen. This is the most monotonous place in vacation."

"To-morrow never is, it always will be," corrected the carping critic.

Bea with indifference born of long endurance paid no attention. "I say!"
rapturously as the idea began to dawn upon her inward vision, "let's
reconcile them with a joke."

"All right," agreed her partner with most charming alacrity, "what joke?"

The question was rather a poser, as Bea was inclined to take only one
step at a time and utter one thought as it obligingly arrived, without
anxiety about the next. This tendency had occasionally l