“What I mean is, are all those she tutors conditioned?”
“Why, I suppose so,” said Helen, vaguely. “Seniors don’t generally tutor their last term unless they have to, do they? There wouldn’t be much object in it. Why are you so interested in Anne’s pupils, Betty?”
“Oh, for no reason at all,” said Betty, carelessly. “Eleanor and I went up to see her this afternoon, and some one came in for a lesson, as I understood it, so of course we didn’t stay.”
“What a shame! You’ll go again soon, won’t you?”
“Not until after she gets through tutoring,” said Betty, decidedly.
“I wish Helen Adams had never seen that girl,” she declared savagely to the green lizard after Helen had gone. “Or at least—well, I almost wish so. Whatever I do will go wrong. If I ask Jean whether she knows about the rule, she’ll be horribly disagreeable, but if she gets Bassanio and then Miss Stuart reports her condition she’ll probably come and tell me that I ought to have seen she was conditioned and warned her. Anyway I shall feel that I ought. It’s certainly much kinder to speak to her than to ask Barbara to inquire of Miss Stuart. Eleanor can’t speak to her. No one can but me.” The lizard didn’t even blink, but Betty had an inspiration. “I know what. I’ll write to her.”
Betty spent a long time and a great deal of note-paper on that letter, but at last it read to her satisfaction:
“Dear Jean:
“After you left this afternoon Miss Harrison came in, evidently to be tutored. So I couldn’t help wondering if you could possibly have had the bad luck to get a condition, and if so, whether you know the rule about the senior play,—I mean that no one having a condition can take part. Please, please don’t think that I want to be interfering or disagreeable. I know you would rather have me ask you now than to have anything come out publicly later.