But Mary was still listening and Betty turned to her. “That dreadful Mr. John Alison has sent Georgia’s picture to Dr. Eaton.”
“Why, that’s lovely,” said Mary calmly. “We ought to have thought of that ourselves. Where does the dreadfulness come in? And who is Mr. John Alison?”
“Oh, Mary, don’t you remember,” began Betty impatiently. “He’s Tom’s older brother—the one that was in college with Dr. Eaton.”
“Never heard of him,” said Madeline, who had abandoned her book again. “How did he hear of Georgia?”
“Why, Mr. Tom Alison wrote him about her,” explained Betty. “He thought Georgia was such a good joke,—after I’d told him about Alice Waite’s using her, you know,—that he wanted to know all about her. When I mentioned Dr. Eaton and English Essayists he was perfectly delighted. Dr. Eaton used to visit his older brother, and they both used to tease Tom, so of course he approved of our teasing Dr. Eaton now. He said he was going to write his brother about it, and he did. He told him about the Yale part, too, of course, and he sent him Georgia’s picture.”
“Well?” demanded Mary, as Betty paused for breath.
“I haven’t read all the letter yet, but I know that Mr. Alison sent the picture to Dr. Eaton. Let me see.” Betty consulted Tom’s epistle. “Here it is. ‘If you will believe it, John got my letter in Tombstone, Arizona, where he was spending a day on his way from San Francisco back to the railroad that he’s building down in New Mexico. He was delighted with the whole game, and thinking that Eaton would appreciate that picture, he sent it along with a note from Georgia which I guess from his description was a corker. You see he didn’t realize that you girls would have to stand for it sooner or later, so he wrote that his—I mean Georgia’s—heart was Eaton’s for keeps, and that she couldn’t bear the separation and wanted to exchange photographs, and wouldn’t he write her just a line? I’ve written him “just a line” to warn him against taking any such liberties again with my friends’ ideas; and I hope that it isn’t too late for you to square yourselves all right. I’ll make John write and apologize, if you say so. The letter was all right, you see, from him, but Eaton thinking it was from a girl, of course wouldn’t like the idea. I hope this doesn’t mean the premature death of Georgia, and I hope Eaton didn’t get that letter before the Christmas recess, but I’m awfully afraid he may have.’”
“That explains the coolness of the professor the last time you saw him,” said Madeline.
“What geese he must think us,” giggled Mary, “to be the friends of the girl who wrote that dreadful note.”
“And who also wrote those ten-minute tests that he so admired,” added Madeline. “I suppose he explains it by referring to the oddities of genius.”