After that she couldn’t help being sorry for Eleanor, but she pitied Miss Madison more. Miss Madison was dull at books and she knew it, and had actually made herself ill with work and worry. Going to see her Hilton House friends on the Friday afternoon after the skating party, Betty found Miss Madison alone and undisguisedly crying.
“I know I’m foolish,” she apologized. “Most people just laugh at that story, but I notice they study harder since they heard it. And I’m such a stupid.”
Betty, who hated tears, had a sudden inspiration. “Why don’t you ask about it at the registrar’s office?” she suggested.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” wailed Miss Madison.
“Then I shall,” returned Betty. “That is, I shall ask one of the faculty.”
“Would you dare?”
“Yes, indeed. They’re human, like other people,” said Betty, quoting Nan. “I don’t see why some one didn’t think of it sooner.”
That night at dinner Betty announced her plan. The freshmen looked relieved and Mary Brooks showed uncalled-for enthusiasm.
“Do go,” she urged. “It’s high time such an absurd story was shown up at its real value. It’s absurd. The way we talk and talk about a report like that, and never dare to ask the faculty if it’s true.”
“Do you take any freshman courses?” inquired Eleanor sarcastically.