Part 22 (1/2)

”Nothing more important than the tail end of some French,” answered Jean Eastman curtly, going to get her coat, which hung over a chair near the door. As she pa.s.sed Miss Carter she gave her a keen, questioning look which meant, so Betty decided, that Jean was as much surprised to find that this quiet soph.o.m.ore knew Betty Wales and her crowd, as Betty had been to see Jean established in Miss Carter's room on a footing of apparent intimacy.

”I've been here ever since luncheon,” Jean went on, ”and I was just going, wasn't I, Miss Carter? Oh, no, you're not driving me away--not in the least. I should be delighted to stay and talk to you both if I had time.” And with a disagreeable little laugh Jean pinned on her hat, swept up her books, and started for the door.

Strange to say, Miss Carter seemed to take her hasty departure as a matter of course and devoted herself entirely to her other visitors, until, just as Jean was leaving, she turned to her with a question.

”Oh, Miss Eastman, I don't remember--did you say to-morrow at four?”

For a full minute Jean stared at her, her expression a queer mixture of anger and amused reproach. ”No, I said to-morrow at three,” she answered at last and went off down the stairs, humming a gay little tune.

Betty and Eleanor exchanged wondering glances. Jean was notorious for knowing only prominent girls. Her presence here and her peculiar manner together formed a puzzle that made it very difficult to give one's full attention to what Miss Carter was saying. There was also Miss Harrison.

Was she the senior Harrison, better known as the Champion Blunderbuss?

And if she was coming, why didn't she come?

Betty found herself furtively watching the door, which Jean had left open, and she barely repressed a little cry of relief when the Champion's ample figure appeared at the head of the stairs.

”I'm terribly late,” she called out cheerfully. ”I thought you'd probably get tired of waiting and go out. Oh,” as she noticed Miss Carter's visitors, ”I guess I'd better come back at five. I can as well as not.”

But Betty and Eleanor insisted that she should do nothing of the kind.

”We'll come to see you again when you're not so busy,” Betty promised Miss Carter, who gave them a sad little smile but didn't offer any objection to their leaving the Blunderbuss in possession.

”Well, haven't we had a funny time?” said Eleanor, when they were outside. ”Did you know that Miss Carter tutored in French?”

”No,” answered Betty. ”Helen never gave me the impression that she was poor. Her room doesn't look much as if she was helping to put herself through college, does it?”

”Not a bit,” agreed Eleanor, ”nor her clothes, and yet Miss Harrison certainly acted as if she had come on business.”

”Yes, exactly like Rachel's pupils. They always come bouncing in late, when she's given them up and we're all having a lovely time. Miss Carter acted businesslike too. She seemed to expect us to go.”

”Well then, what about Jean?” asked Eleanor. ”I couldn't make her out at all. Has she struck up some sort of queer friends.h.i.+p with Miss Carter or was she being tutored too?”

Betty gave a little gasp of dismay. ”Oh, I don't know. I hoped you would. You see--she's trying for a part in the play.”

”Then she can't be conditioned,” said Eleanor easily. ”Teddie Wilson has advertised the rule about that far and wide, poor child.”

”And you don't think Jean could possibly not have heard of it?” Betty asked anxiously.

”Why, I shouldn't think so, but you might ask her to make sure. She certainly acted very much as if we had caught her at something she was ashamed of. Would you mind coming just a little way down-town, Betty? I want to buy some violets and a new magazine.”

Betty was quite willing to go down-town, but she smiled mournfully at Eleanor's careless suggestion that she should speak to Jean. Asking Jean Eastman a delicate question, especially after the interview they had had that morning, was not likely to be a pleasant task. Betty wondered if she needed to feel responsible for Jean's mistakes. She certainly ought to know on general principles that conditions keep you out of everything nice from the freshman team on.

A visit from Helen Adams that evening threw some new light on the matter.

”Betty,” Helen demanded, ”isn't Teddie Wilson trying for a part in our play?”

”Helen Chase Adams,” returned Betty, severely, ”is it possible you don't know that she got a condition and can't try?”