Mary smiled her “beamish” smile. “No,” she said, “but I’m an interested party nevertheless–quite as much so as any of the famous fifty.”
“Whom shall you ask, Betty?” pursued Katherine, ignoring the digression.
“Miss Mansfield. I have her the first hour, and besides, since she’s been engaged she’s so nice and sympathetic.”
Next day the geometry class dragged unmercifully for three persons. Eleanor beat a nervous tattoo on the seat-arm, Miss Madison stared fixedly at the clock, and Betty blushed and twisted and wished she could have seen Miss Mansfield before class. The delayed interview was beginning to seem very formidable. But it wasn’t, after the first plunge.
“What an absurd story!” laughed Miss Mansfield. “Not a word of truth in it, of course. Why I don’t believe the girl who started it thought it was true. How long has it been in circulation?”
Betty counted the days. “I didn’t really believe it,” she added shyly.
“But you worried,” said Miss Mansfield, smiling down at her. “Next time don’t be taken in one little bit,–or else come to headquarters sooner.”
Eleanor and Miss Madison were waiting outside the door when Betty dashed at them with a little squeal of ecstasy. There was a moment of rapturous congratulation; then Miss Madison picked up the note-book she had dropped and held out her hand solemnly to Betty.
“You’ve–why I think you’ve saved my life,” she said, “and now I must go to my next class.”
“You’re a little hero,” added Eleanor, catching Betty’s arm and rushing her off to a recitation in Science Hall.