"Alice and I are delegates from the Class of '81," I explained,
a trifle more lucidly. "The class has voted to plant an elm
for our class tree, and we would like to plant it in front of
the college in a prominent spot." We had previously decided
gracefully to ignore the evergreen rumor.
Mr. Durant looked thoughtful. "Hum," he said, "I'd planned
to give you girls of '81 a choice evergreen, and as for a place
for it: what do you say to the plot on the north side, just
under the library window?"
l looked beseechingly at Alice. She was apparently very much
occupied in a meek survey of the toes of her boots, which she
had stubbed into premature old age scrambling up and down
from the boat landings.
Meanwhile Mr. Durant was waiting for our look of pleased
surprise and joyful acquiescence. Then, without a vestige
of diplomacy, l blurted right out, "Yes, Mr. Durant; we heard
so; but we don't think, that is, we don't want an evergreen
under the library window; we would like a tree that will live
a long, long time and grow big like an elm, and we want it
where everybody will see it."
Mr. Durant looked exceedingly surprised, and for the space
of five seconds I was breathless.
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