Two days later Miss Arms’s theory of the situation, already shaken by the violet story, received a fatal blow. It was proved to her full satisfaction that Georgia Ames was no figment of an “eccentric” aunt’s imagination. She existed and she went to Harding. Mary Brooks had been to New York to see her father and mother off for a winter in Italy, and she sent Georgia a note, written on Waldorf-Astoria paper and signed “Mary.” Miss Arms opened it before she noticed the address, and read it through in growing bewilderment. Then she looked again at the envelope, and saw Georgia Ames’s name. She consulted Nita, who disclaimed any particular interest in the matter.
“Didn’t I tell you that my aunt was mistaken?” she asked. “You can’t expect me to know all the ‘Marys’ who stay at the Waldorf. It does seem to me that the name Georgia Ames is on Dr. Eaton’s English Essayists roll, but I’ve never even seen the girl.”
Dr. Eaton was by no means neglected by “The Merry Hearts.” Babe, sacrificing her prettiest handkerchief to the cause, marked it carefully with indelible ink, and as she passed out of her English recitation dropped it carelessly on the professor’s desk. From a dark corner of the hall she watched him pick it up, look at the mark, and consult Jean Eastman, who was the last person to leave the class that morning, about its owner.
Jean evidently assured him that there was no such person in the class, for he presently took out his roll-call and pointed out the last name on the list. Jean looked amazed, and Babe heard her asking the girls in front of her if they knew any Georgia Ames who carried handkerchiefs with real lace on them and took English Essayists.
But it was Helen Chase Adams who made the crowning hit, as far as Dr. Eaton was concerned. Unfortunately for his classes, Dr. Eaton did not tire of the ten-minute test. He still resorted to it with unbecoming frequency, and his students were obliged to endure as best they might his remarkable zest for extracting information. So Helen conceived the idea of having Georgia’s mother remonstrate with him on the score of danger to her daughter’s health.
“It was great fun composing it,” Helen explained to Betty, “though I did feel a little like a forger. But I don’t suppose there is any Mrs. Erasmus J. Ames in the world. Do you think Dr. Eaton will answer it?”
“Oh, yes,” said Betty eagerly. “He’s very punctilious about little things, I’ve noticed. But how can you get the answer? What address did you give?”
“Just Harding. I wrote as if I was visiting Georgia. Let’s go to the office and inquire for Mrs. Erasmus J. Ames’s mail.”
Sure enough, Dr. Eaton’s answer was waiting. Helen read it to “The Merry Hearts” that evening.
“My dear Mrs. Ames: