Madeline nodded. “All the old bunch, but nobody who’s still in college. It’s to be strictly a B. C. A. party, tell them.”
“Madeline,” demanded Emily sternly, “do you know what that stands for, or are you going to think something up later?”
Madeline grinned placidly. “Dearest girl, as Madam Bon Ton calls all her fair correspondents, never so far forget your breeding as to give way to idle curiosity. It tends to create wrinkles. And speaking of wrinkles, do you suppose Georgia will murder or otherwise dispose of her new roommate and take me in for the night?”
They were all there the next afternoon. Little Helen Chase Adams was just as prim and demure as ever, but the great honor that had come to her had put a permanent sparkle in her eyes, and added a comical touch of confidence to her manner. Rachel’s air of quiet dignity that the head of her department approved of only made the funny stories she told of her first experiences as a “faculty” all the funnier. Christy was her old, serene, dependable self. Mary, in a very becoming new suit, smiled her “beamish” smile at everybody, and argued violently with Madeline about the relative importance of being a “small” faculty or a “big” faculty’s wife.
“George Garrison Hinsdale is a genius, and he says he couldn’t live without me,” declared Mary modestly but firmly. Then she smiled again at the obvious humor of George Garrison Hinsdale’s remark. “Of course he did live without me until he discovered me.”
“We couldn’t live without you either, Mary dear,” Rachel assured her.
“No indeed we couldn’t, you Perfect Patron,” added Madeline. “And that reminds me that if you don’t hustle around and do something nice for the Tally-ho right away, you’ll be expelled from the society.”
“There’s no rule about how often you have to do things,” declared Mary indignantly, “and anyway I can’t be expelled when I’m the only member. It’s too utterly absurd.”
“Is the Perfect Patrons a society?” demanded Christy eagerly. “Can’t we join? It’s not limited to faculty’s wives, is it?”
“Rules for the Perfect Patron,” chanted Madeline impressively. “Rule one: Only the prettiest and best-dressed faculty wife existing at Harding is eligible. Rule two: In estimating Perfection patronizing the firm is counted against patronizing the menu. That’s where little Mary always meets her Waterloo.”