ne o'clock recitation," she exclaimed,
"and I thought you probably hadn't studied for it and would be in a
dreadful hurry."

Betty thanked her, feeling very guilty. Georgia was wearing a plain
brown jumper dress, with no ornament of any kind, not even a pin to
fasten her collar; and she looked as cool and self-possessed and
cheerful as usual. In the sober light of morning it seemed even more
than absurd to suppose that she was anything but a nice, jolly girl,
like Rachel and K. and Madeline,--the sort of girl that you associated
with Harding College and with the "Merry Hearts" and asked to box
parties with a nice Yale man, who liked her and invited her to his prom.

In the weeks that followed Betty saw a great deal of Georgia, who seemed
intent on showing her gratitude for the splendid time that Betty had
given her. Betty, for her part, felt that she owed Georgia far more than
Georgia owed her and found many pleasant ways of showing her contrition
for a doubt that, do her best, she couldn't wholly stifle. The more she
saw of Georgia, the more clearly she noticed that there was something
odd about the behavior of the self-contained little freshman, and also
that she was worrying a good deal and letting nobody know the reason.

"But it's not conditions or warnings or anything of that sort,"
Georgia's round-eyed roommate declared solemnly to Betty, in a burst of
confidence about the way she was worrying over Georgia. "She sits and
thinks for hours sometimes, and doesn't answer me if I speak to her. And
she says she doesn't care whether she gets a chance to play in the big
game or not. Just imagine saying that, Miss Wales."

"She's tired," suggested Betty loyally. "She'll be all right after
vacation."

Meanwhile, in the less searching eyes of the college world, Georgia
continued to be the spoiled child of fortune. She came back from the
prom, with glowing tales of the good times she had had, and whether or
not she cared about it she was the only "sub" who got a chance to play
in the big game. She made two goals, while Betty clapped for her
frantically and her class made their side of the gallery actually
tremble with the manifestations of their delight.

It was just as Betty was leaving the gym on the afternoon of the game
that Jean Eastman overtook her.

"Could you come for a walk?" she asked abruptly. "There is something I
want to get settled before vacation. It won't take long. It's about
Bassanio," she went on,