But Georgia was the merest episode during the vacation, and though several of “The Merry Hearts” went back on the same train with Betty, the talk was all of Christmas presents and Christmas gaieties—dances, dinners, skating and sleighing parties—and Georgia was not even mentioned. Tom Alison, being a politic youth, had not allowed himself to be forgotten during the vacation. He sent Betty candy for Christmas and violets for New Year’s, and she was not at all surprised, when she opened the Belden House door, to see a letter for her on the hall table, addressed in Tom’s sprawling, illegible hand. Betty wondered if he was going back to New Haven by way of Harding—which would have been decidedly the longest way round. But she glanced at the letter, and, as it seemed to be all about Georgia, she put it aside to read later in the day, when she had more time.
Just before dinner she took it up again and being tired of unpacking, sat down at her desk to make out Tom’s hieroglyphics at her leisure. But at the bottom of the first page, she gave a little cry of dismay, and ran off to Mary’s room, where she found Madeline and Mary lying on the couch, reading Mary’s Christmas books—she had had eighteen of them, and she declared that she simply could not begin to study until she had read them all through.
“Girls,” cried Betty, bursting in without waiting to knock. “What do you think has happened now?”
“Goodness, Betty,” said Mary, who had been completely absorbed in her book. “How you frightened me! We’re reading. Help yourself to a book and some candy and be quiet.”
“But, Mary!” began Betty. “Listen to this.”
Mary dropped her book with a sigh of discouragement. “Talk about the silent cloisters of learning!” she said. “College is the worst place I know of to try to work in.” She pulled at Madeline’s book. “Come, Madeline, don’t try to improve your mind any longer. Betty is bound to talk.”
Madeline looked up lazily.
“It’s about Georgia,” explained Betty. “The most dreadful thing you can imagine.”
“Dear me!” said Madeline. “Then the faculty must have found her a poor joke and voted to expel all ‘The Merry Hearts’ from Harding.” And she returned once more to her book.