“I wish I were dead, or that it were tomorrow night,” groaned Phil. “If you live long enough both wishes will come true,” said Anne calmly. “It’s easy for you to be serene. You’re at home in Philosophy. I’m not—and when I think of that horrible paper tomorrow I quail. If I should fail in it what would Jo say?” “You won’t fail. How did you get on in Greek today?” “I don’t know. Perhaps it was a good paper and perhaps it was bad enough to make Homer turn over in his grave. I’ve studied and mulled over notebooks until I’m incapable of forming an opinion of anything. How thankful little Phil will
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