“He’s asked me to the prom, Betty. Think of that!” explained Georgia, her eyes shining.
“How—nice,” said Betty faintly. “I’m awfully tired, aren’t you?”
“Tired!” repeated Georgia gaily. “Not a bit. I should like to begin all over again this minute. I’m hot though. We walked pretty fast up the hill.” She threw back her coat and unwound the scarf that was twisted over her hair and around her throat. It caught on the amethyst pendant and Georgia pulled it away carefully, while Betty watched in fascinated silence, trying to make up her mind to speak. She might never have a good chance again. Ordinarily Georgia wore no jewelry,—not a pin or a ring. She had certainly never worn this pendant before at Harding. It would be so easy and so sensible to say something about it now and set her uncomfortable thoughts at rest.
Betty wet her lips nervously, made an heroic effort, and began.
“What a lovely chain that is, Georgia.” She hoped her voice sounded more natural to Georgia than it did to herself. “Is it a family heirloom?”
Georgia put up her hand absently, and felt of the chain. “Oh, that,—yes, it is. It really belongs to mother, but she let me bring it here. She’s awfully fond of old jewelry, and she has a lot. I hate all kinds, but this covers my bones so beautifully.”
“The pendant is lovely too,” put in Betty hastily, as Georgia moved off toward her room. “Is that old too?”
“I don’t know,” said Georgia stiffly. “That isn’t a family thing. It was given to me—by somebody I don’t like.”
“The somebody must like you pretty well,” said Betty, trying to speak lightly, “to give you such a stunning present.”
Georgia did not answer this, except by saying, “Good-night. I believe I am tired,” as she opened her door.