CHAPTER XII
CALLING ON ANNE CARTER
Pleasant things generally submerged the unpleasant ones at Harding, soBetty's delight in Roberta's unexpected success quite wiped out herremembrance of Bob's theories about Jean, until, several days after theShylock trials, Jean herself confirmed them.
"I want to be sure that you know I'm going to try for Bassanio," shesaid, overtaking Betty on the campus between classes, "so you can haveplenty of time to hunt up a rival candidate. I can't imagine who it willbe unless you can make Eleanor Watson believe that it's her duty to theclass to try. But this time I hope you'll come out into the open andplay fair, or at least as nearly fair as you can, considering that youought to be helping me. I may not be much on philanthropy, but I don'tthink I can be accused of entirely lacking a sense of honor."
"Why Jean," began Betty, trying to remember that Jean was hurt anddisappointed and possibly didn't mean to be as rude as her wordssounded, "please don't feel that way. It wasn't that I didn't want youfor Shylock. Of course Roberta is one of my best friends and I'm glad tohave her get the big part in the play, because she's never had anythingelse; but I didn't dream that she would get it."
"Then why did you drag her in at the last minute?"
Betty explained how that had happened, but Jean only laugheddisagreeably. "I consider that it was a very irregular way of doingthings," she said, "and I think a good many in the class feel the sameway about it. Besides--but I suppose you've entirely forgotten that itwas I who got you on the play committee."
"Listen, Jean," Betty protested, anxious to avoid a discussion thatwould evidently be fruitless. "It was Mr. Masters, and not I or any ofthe other girls, who didn't like your acting, or rather your acting ofShylock. And Mr. Masters himself suggested that you would make a betterBassanio. Didn't Barbara tell you?"
"Oh, yes," said Jean, "she told me. That doesn't alter the fact that ifyou hadn't produced Roberta Lewis when you did, Mr. Masters might havedecided that he liked my Shylock quite well enough."
"Jean," said Betty, desperately, "don't you want the play to be as goodas it possibly can?"
"No," retorted Jean, coolly, "I don't. I want a part in it. I imaginethat I want one just as badly as Roberta Lewis did. And if I don't getBassanio, after what Barbara and Clara Ellis have said to me, I shallknow whom to blame." She paused a moment for her words to take effect."My father says," she went on, "that women never have any sense ofobligation. They don't think of paying back anything but invitations toafternoon tea. I must tell him about you. He'll find you such a splendidillustration. Good-bye, or I shall be late to chemistry." Jean sped offin the direction of the science building.
"Oh, dear," thought Betty, sadly, "I wish I weren't so stupid and someek. Madeline can always answer people back when they're disagreeable,and Rachel is so dignified that Jean wouldn't think of saying thingslike that to her."
Then she smiled in spite of herself. It was all such a stupid tangle.Jean insisted on blaming her, and Roberta and the committee had insistedon praising her for finding 19-- a Shylock, when she never intended orexpected to do anything of the kind. "It just shows," thought Betty,"that the things that seem like deep-laid schemes are very often justhappenings, and the simple-looking ones are the schemes. Well, Icertainly hope Jean will get Bassanio. Eleanor's window is open. Iwonder if she can hear me."
"Oh, Eleanor," she called, when the window had been opened wider inresponse to her trill, "there isn't any committee meeting thisafternoon. Don't you want to go with me to see Anne Carter? Let's startearly and take a walk first. It's such a lovely glitter-y day."
The "glitter-y" day foregathered with a brisk north wind after luncheon,and it was still mid-afternoon when Betty and Eleanor ran up MissCarter's front steps, delighted at the prospect of getting in out ofthe cold. At the door they hesitated.
"It's so long since I've regularly called on anybody in college,"laughed Betty, "that I've forgotten how to act. Don't we go right up toher room, Eleanor?"
"Why yes. That's certainly what people used to do to us in our freshmanyear. Don't you remember how we were always getting caught with ourkimonos on and our rooms fixed for sweep-day by girls we'd never seen?"
"I should think so." Betty smiled reminiscently. "Helen Adams used toget so fussed when she was caught doing her hair. Then let's go rightup. We want to be friendly and informal and make her feel at home. Shehas the front room on the second floor. Helen spoke of its being so bigand pretty. I do hope she's in."
She was in, for she called a brisk "come" in answer to Betty's knock.She was sitting at a table-desk by the window, with her back to herdoor, and when it opened she did not turn her head. Neither did JeanEastman who sat beside her, their heads together over the same book.Jean was reading aloud in hesitating, badly accented French, and paideven less attention to the intruders than Miss Carter, who calledhastily, "In just one minute, Miss Harrison," and then cautioned Jeannot to forget the elisions.
"But we're not Miss Harrison," said Betty laughingly, amazed andembarrassed at the idea of meeting Jean here.
At the sound of her voice both the girls turned quickly and Miss Cartercame forward with a hearty apology for her mistake. "I was expectingsome one else," she said, "and I thought of course it was she who camein. It was very stupid of me. Won't you sit down?"
"But aren't we interrupting?" asked Betty, introducing Eleanor.
"Nothing more important than the tail end of some French," answered JeanEastman curtly, going to get her coat, which hung over a chair near thedoor. As she passed Miss Carter she gave her a keen, questioning lookwhich meant, so Betty decided, that Jean was as much surprised to findthat this quiet sophomore knew Betty Wales and her crowd, as Betty hadbeen to see Jean established in Miss Carter's room on a footing ofapparent intimacy.
"I've been here ever since luncheon," Jean went on, "and I was justgoing, wasn't I, Miss Carter? Oh, no, you're not driving me away--not inthe least. I should be delighted to stay and talk to you both if I hadtime." 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 amatter 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 ofanger and amused reproach. "No, I said to-morrow at three," she answeredat last and went off down the stairs, humming a gay little tune.
Betty and Eleanor exchanged wondering glances. Jean was notorious forknowing only prominent girls. Her presence here and her peculiar mannertogether formed a puzzle that made it very difficult to give one's fullattention 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 leftopen, and she barely repressed a little cry of relief when theChampion's ample figure appeared at the head of the stairs.
"I'm terribly late," she called out cheerfully. "I thought you'dprobably get tired of waiting and go out. Oh," as she noticed MissCarter's visitors, "I guess I'd better come back at five. I can as wellas 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 promisedMiss Carter, who gave them a sad little smile but didn't offer anyobjection to their leaving the Blunderbuss in possession.
"Well, haven't we had a funny time?" said Eleanor, when they wereoutside. "Did you know that Miss Carter tutored in French?"
"No," answered Betty. "Helen never gave me the impression that she waspoor. Her room doesn't look much as if she was helping to put herselfthrough college, does it?"
"Not a bit," agreed Eleanor, "nor her clothes, and yet Miss Harrisoncertainly acted as if she had c
ome 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 Carteracted businesslike too. She seemed to expect us to go."
"Well then, what about Jean?" asked Eleanor. "I couldn't make her out atall. Has she struck up some sort of queer friendship with Miss Carter orwas she being tutored too?"
Betty gave a little gasp of dismay. "Oh, I don't know. I hoped youwould. You see--she's trying for a part in the play."
"Then she can't be conditioned," said Eleanor easily. "Teddie Wilson hasadvertised the rule about that far and wide, poor child."
"And you don't think Jean could possibly not have heard of it?" Bettyasked anxiously.
"Why, I shouldn't think so, but you might ask her to make sure. Shecertainly acted very much as if we had caught her at something she wasashamed of. Would you mind coming just a little way down-town, Betty? Iwant to buy some violets and a new magazine."
Betty was quite willing to go down-town, but she smiled mournfully atEleanor's careless suggestion that she should speak to Jean. Asking JeanEastman a delicate question, especially after the interview they had hadthat morning, was not likely to be a pleasant task. Betty wondered ifshe needed to feel responsible for Jean's mistakes. She certainly oughtto know on general principles that conditions keep you out of everythingnice from the freshman team on.
A visit from Helen Adams that evening threw some new light on thematter.
"Betty," Helen demanded, "isn't Teddie Wilson trying for a part in ourplay?"
"Helen Chase Adams," returned Betty, severely, "is it possible you don'tknow that she got a condition and can't try?"
"I certainly didn't know it," said Helen meekly. "Why should I, please?"
"Only because everybody else does," said Betty, and wondered if Jeancould possibly belong with Helen in the ignorant minority. It seemedvery unlikely, but then it seemed a sheer impossibility that Helenshould have sat at the Belden House dinner-table day after day and nothave heard Teddie's woes discussed. At any rate now was her chance toget some information about Miss Carter.
"While we are talking about conditions," she began, "does your friendAnne Carter tutor in French?"
Helen nodded. "It's queer, isn't it, when she has so much money? Shedoesn't like to do it either, but mademoiselle made her think it was herduty, because all the French faculty are too busy and there was no othergirl who took the senior course that mademoiselle would trust. Annethinks she'll be through by next week."
"Were many people conditioned in French?" asked Betty.
"Why, I don't know. I think Anne just said several, when she told meabout it."
"What I mean is, are all those she tutors conditioned?"
"Why, I suppose so," said Helen, vaguely. "Seniors don't generally tutortheir last term unless they have to, do they? There wouldn't be muchobject in it. Why are you so interested in Anne's pupils, Betty?"
"Oh, for no reason at all," said Betty, carelessly. "Eleanor and I wentup to see her this afternoon, and some one came in for a lesson, as Iunderstood it, so of course we didn't stay."
"What a shame! You'll go again soon, won't you?"
"Not until after she gets through tutoring," said Betty, decidedly.
"I wish Helen Adams had never seen that girl," she declared savagely tothe green lizard after Helen had gone. "Or at least--well, I almost wishso. Whatever I do will go wrong. If I ask Jean whether she knows aboutthe rule, she'll be horribly disagreeable, but if she gets Bassanio andthen Miss Stuart reports her condition she'll probably come and tell methat I ought to have seen she was conditioned and warned her. Anyway Ishall feel that I ought. It's certainly much kinder to speak to her thanto ask Barbara to inquire of Miss Stuart. Eleanor can't speak to her. Noone can but me." The lizard didn't even blink, but Betty had aninspiration. "I know what. I'll write to her."
Betty spent a long time and a great deal of note-paper on that letter,but at last it read to her satisfaction:
* * * * *
"DEAR JEAN:
"After you left this afternoon Miss Harrison came in, evidently to betutored. So I couldn't help wondering if you could possibly have had thebad luck to get a condition, and if so, whether you know the rule aboutthe senior play,--I mean that no one having a condition can take part.Please, please don't think that I want to be interfering ordisagreeable. I know you would rather have me ask you now than to haveanything come out publicly later.
"BETTY."
* * * * *
Two days later Jean's answer appeared on the Belden House table.
"If you thought I had a condition in French, why didn't you go and askmademoiselle about it? She would undoubtedly have received you with openarms. Yes, I believe that Miss Carter, whom you seem to know sointimately all of a sudden, tutors the Harrison person. Just why youshould lump me with her, I don't see. I know the rule about conditionsand the play as well as you do, but being without either a condition ora part, I can't see that it concerns me particularly.
"Yours most gratefully, "JEAN REAVES EASTMAN."
* * * * *
Betty read this note through twice and consigned it, torn into verysmall pieces, to her waste-basket. But after thinking the whole matterover a little more carefully she decided that Jean had had ample groundsfor feeling annoyance, if not for showing it, and that there would bejust time before dinner to find her and tell her so.
Jean looked a good deal startled and not particularly pleased when shesaw Betty Wales standing in her door; but Betty, accepting Jean'sattitude as perfectly natural under the circumstances, went straight tothe point.
"I've come to apologize for my mistake, Jean," she said steadily, "andto tell you how glad I am that it is a mistake. I don't suppose I canmake you understand why I was so sure--or at least so afraid----"
"Oh, we needn't go into that," said Jean, with an attempt atgraciousness. "I suppose Miss Carter said something misleading. You arequite excusable, I think."
"No," said Betty, "I'm not. I've studied logic and argument and I oughtto know better than to depend on circumstantial evidence. I'm very, verysorry."
Jean looked at her keenly. "I suppose you and Eleanor have discussedthis affair together. What did she think?"
"I haven't mentioned it to her since the afternoon we were at MissCarter's, and she doesn't know that I wrote you. That day we both feltthe same--that is, we didn't know what to think. If you don't mind, Ishould like to tell her that it's all right."
"Why in the world should you bother to do that?" asked Jean curiously.
"Because she'll be so glad to know, and also because I think it's nomore than fair to all of us. You did act very queerly that afternoon,Jean."
"Oh, did I?" said Jean oddly. "You have a queer idea of fairness. Youwon't work for me when I've put you on a committee for that expresspurpose; but no matter how disagreeable I am to you about it, you won'ttake a good chance to pay up, and you won't let Eleanor take hers."
"Let Eleanor take hers?" repeated Betty wonderingly.
"Yes, her chance to pay up her score. She owes me a long one. You know agood many of the items. Why shouldn't she pay me back now that she has agood chance? You haven't forgotten Mary Brooks's rumor, have you?Eleanor could start one about this condition business without halftrying."
"Well, she won't," Betty assured her promptly. "She wouldn't think ofmentioning such a thing to anybody. But as long as we bothmisunderstood, I'm going to tell her that it's all right. Good-bye,Jean, and please excuse me for being so hasty."
"Certainly," said Jean, and Betty wondered, as she ran down-stairs,whether she had only imagined that Jean's voice shook.
The next afternoon Mr. Masters and the committee, deciding that Jean'sBassanio was possibly just a shade
more attractive than Mary Horton's,gave her the part. Kate Denise was Portia, and everybody exclaimed overthe suitability of having the lovers played by such a devoted pair offriends. As for Betty, she breathed a sigh of relief that it was allsettled at last. Jean had won the part strictly on her merits, and shefully understood Betty's construction of a committee-woman's duty to theplay. Nevertheless Betty felt that, in spite of all their recentcontests and differences of opinion, they came nearer to being friendsthan at any time since their freshman year, and she wasn't sorry thatshe had gone more than halfway in bringing about this happy result.
Meanwhile the date of the Glee Club concert was fast approaching.Georgia Ames came in one afternoon to consult Betty about the importantmatter of dress.
"I suppose that, as long as we're going to sit in a box, I ought to wearan evening gown," she said.
"Why, yes," agreed Betty, "if you can as well as not. It's a very dressyoccasion."
"Oh, I can," said Georgia sadly. "I've got one all beautifully spick andspan, because I hate it so. I never feel at home in anything but ashirt-waist. Beside my neck looks awfully bony to me, but mother saysit's no different from most people's. The men are coming, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes, they're coming," assented Betty gaily, "and between us we'vebeen asked to every tea on the campus, I should think. So they ought tohave a good time in the afternoon, and college men are always crazy overour concerts."
"Your man will be all right," said Georgia admiringly, "and I'll do mybest for the other one. Truly, Betty, I am grateful to you. I think it'sawfully good of you to ask me. Even if you asked me because I'm theother Georgia's namesake, you wouldn't do it if you didn't like me alittle for myself, would you?"
"Of course not, you silly child," laughed Betty.
"I want you to have my reserved seat for the basket-ball game," went onGeorgia. "The subs each have one seat to give away, and I've swappedmine with a sophomore, so you can sit on your own side."
"I shall clap for you, though," Betty told her, "and I hope you'll get achance to play. The other Georgia wasn't a bit athletic, so yourbasket-ball record will never be mixed with hers."
Betty repeated Georgia's remark about being nothing but the otherGeorgia's namesake to Madeline. "I think she really worries about it,"she added.
Madeline only laughed at her. "She hasn't seemed quite so gaylately--that probably means warnings from her beloved instructors atmidyears. It must be awfully hard work to keep up the freshman grindwith everybody under the sun asking you to do things. Georgia hates tosnub people, so she goes even when she'd rather stay at home. Twicelately I've met her out walking with the Blunderbuss. I must talk to herabout the necessity of being decently exclusive."