“Betty.”
Two days later Jean’s answer appeared on the Belden House table.
“If you thought I had a condition in French, why didn’t you go and ask mademoiselle about it? She would undoubtedly have received you with open arms. Yes, I believe that Miss Carter, whom you seem to know so intimately all of a sudden, tutors the Harrison person. Just why you should lump me with her, I don’t see. I know the rule about conditions and the play as well as you do, but being without either a condition or a part, I can’t see that it concerns me particularly.
“Yours most gratefully,
“Jean Reaves Eastman.”
Betty read this note through twice and consigned it, torn into very small pieces, to her waste-basket. But after thinking the whole matter over a little more carefully she decided that Jean had had ample grounds for feeling annoyance, if not for showing it, and that there would be just time before dinner to find her and tell her so.
Jean looked a good deal startled and not particularly pleased when she saw Betty Wales standing in her door; but Betty, accepting Jean’s attitude as perfectly natural under the circumstances, went straight to the point.
“I’ve come to apologize for my mistake, Jean,” she said steadily, “and to tell you how glad I am that it is a mistake. I don’t suppose I can make you understand why I was so sure—or at least so afraid——”
“Oh, we needn’t go into that,” said Jean, with an attempt at graciousness. “I suppose Miss Carter said something misleading. You are quite excusable, I think.”