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“Oh, it’s no matter,” Mary assured her. “I can just put the bundle on the bulletin board with her class on it; but I thought it would look friendly and interested to put on the address.”

“Georgia wouldn’t care a bit about that,” declared Roberta. “She never notices little things. She’s rather dense, I think.”

“You do?” interposed Madeline indignantly. “Now I’ve found her quite the reverse,—and very interesting,—the little I’ve seen of her.”

“Well, she can’t write,” said Mary with decision, and being extremely near-sighted she missed the rapturous exchange of glances that passed between the two conspirators.

A week later “The Merry Hearts” were in Betty’s room, celebrating Rachel’s election to the class presidency. They had taken Mary’s advice and decided to let senior year shift for itself. Mary had sent word that she couldn’t get around until late in the evening. Her own sketch department in the “Argus” was made up, but the literary editor still needed a “semi-heavy” (which is the Harding editors’ slang for a light essay); and, in return for many similar favors, Mary had joined her in a house-to-house canvas for an available argumentative or a Carlyle paper. It was nine o’clock when she arrived at the presidential spread.