Madeline laughed. “Oh, I’m not so particularly lucky,” she said, “except in being born easily amused. That’s one of the advantages of being born in Bohemia. But I’m afraid I’m fickle. It’s always ‘the last the best’ with me, and just now ‘the last’ is mushrooms. I’m studying them with Miss Stevens,—the new botany assistant, you know,—and they’re fascinating, not to mention their being very good to eat. I’m going to give a mushroom party next week for ‘The Merry Hearts.’ I’d thought of turning Georgia over to them, too.”
“What fun!” laughed Roberta. “You mean you’re going to let her join and be one of us?”
Madeline nodded. “If Bob Parker doesn’t black-ball her. Bob’s rather exclusive.”
“Oh, but she’ll never black-ball Georgia,” declared Roberta, earnestly. “Such a distinguished—what class does she belong to, Madeline?”
Madeline considered. “Freshman, I should say, with a little work passed up, so as to account for her taking some upper-class studies. If she weren’t a freshman she’d seem like a nonentity, wouldn’t she, as she isn’t known at all yet?”
“And as a matter of fact,” laughed Roberta, “she’s as far as possible from being a nonentity. She’s the prod. who’s succeeded in exciting the wonderful Dr. Eaton. And in general she’s very literary.”
“Very,” agreed Madeline gravely. “In fact pen and paper are the very essence of her being.”
“Madeline,” asked Roberta after a little pause, “are you going to let ‘The Merry Hearts’ use Georgia themselves, or are you just going to tell them about her? Because I should like to use her once before you’ve told the others. I’ve thought of a lovely way, only, if Mary Brooks knew about her, it wouldn’t work.”
“Go ahead,” said Madeline briefly. “If I’ve invented something that can be used to tease Mary Brooks, I shall feel like a public benefactor. Georgia is yours till further notice.”