She faced the issue boldly. “I didn’t know that mother had written you,” she said. “What did she want?”
“She thinks that ten-minute tests are spoiling your constitution,” answered Dr. Eaton gravely.
“Oh, dear!” Betty’s chagrin was comical. “That’s exactly like her. Isn’t it queer that mothers and fathers can’t understand that a college is different from a boarding-school?”
“Very queer,” agreed Dr. Eaton, smiling again. “So you didn’t put her up to writing the letter?”
“Of course not,” said Betty indignantly.
“Oh, I knew you didn’t do it on your own account,” Dr. Eaton assured her. “It’s easy to see that ten-minute tests don’t bother you; but I thought you might have been working for your friends.”
Betty looked hard at Dr. Eaton to see if he was laughing at her. “What do you mean by saying that writing isn’t hard for me?” she demanded at last. “It’s very hard indeed, and I do it very badly. I know, for you’ve told me so on almost every paper.”
“I’ve told you so on almost every paper?” repeated Dr. Eaton uncomprehendingly.