That night Straight Dutton trilled outside Betty’s window. “Come out for a speck of a stroll,” she begged. “It’s lovely lilac-scented moonlight out here, and I’ve got a jist to tell you. It’s about your freshman.”
Wondering anxiously if Montana Marie’s attempt at an elopement could have been discovered, Betty hurried out to meet Straight.
“I’ve discovered why she came to Harding,” Straight began with gratifying promptness. “And it’s just as queer and ridiculous as you’d expect her reason for doing a good sensible thing to be.”
“Yes?” queried Betty, her heart sinking lower with Straight’s every word. If Straight knew, all the college knew. Even if the newspapers didn’t get hold of it, it was bad enough; and if they did——
“How did you find out, Straight?” she asked desperately.
“She told me.” Straight was too much amused by the absurdity of the reason to notice Betty’s perturbation. “She didn’t mean to tell, but I got it out of her.”
Betty met this disclosure in annoyed silence.
“Want to guess?” asked Straight gaily. “But you never could. She came to learn American slang, so she can fascinate the French nobility with it. She says they all adore American slang. She says I have taught her more than any other one person, and so when she’s married to a count or a duke or an earl—what’s a French earl, Betty?—she’s going to ask me to the wedding to show her undying gratitude. Isn’t that absurd? And yet she means every word of it.”
“Oh, Straight, dear!” Betty laughed at her merrily. “What perfect nonsense! Even Montana Marie isn’t so absurd as that. She was paying you up for the weird tales of Harding customs that you told her last fall.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Straight positively. “She’s forgotten all about those weird tales. Well, if this isn’t her real reason, I’ll bet the real one is just as comical. Montana Marie O’Toole never struggled into Harding College just to learn a little Latin and less Greek.”