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   :PG.Id: 34605
   :PG.Title: Betty Lee, Freshman
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   :DC.Creator: Harriet Pyne Grove
   :DC.Title: Betty Lee, Freshman
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1931
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                  BETTY LEE, FRESHMAN
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      Title: Betty Lee, Freshman

      Author: Harriet Pyne Grove

      Release Date: December 08, 2010 [EBook #34605]

      Language: English

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   BETTY LEE, FRESHMAN

   By

   HARRIET PYNE GROVE

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   THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

   Cleveland, Ohio –– New York City

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   Copyright, 1931

   by

   THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

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   *Printed in the United States of America*

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.. contents:: Table of Contents
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CHAPTER I: BETTY LEE’S MOST MOVING ADVENTURE
============================================

Betty Lee, aged almost fourteen, was dressing
for travel. She both dreaded and anticipated
the day and smiled at her reflection in
the mirror as it looked at her with eyes as bright
as stars, cheeks pink from excitement and lips a
little apart. That *was* a pretty and becoming
suit, “ducky,” her chum had called it. Now
for the new hat, to be put on over short, sunny,
wavy locks that didn’t have to have anything
done to them to make them so. That again was
what Janet Light said, pretending to be envious.

Betty’s hands trembled a little as she adjusted
the hat. She could not help hurrying,
though her aunt, Mrs. Royce, had told her to
take her time now. “Don’t get all fussed and
excited before you start,” Aunt Jo had said.

The twins, Dick and Doris, aged twelve, were
already downstairs eating breakfast. Betty had
helped Dick with his tie and rounded up several
articles for Doris before she could finish her
own toilet, but it was a comfort to be alone for
a little.

From the bathroom came the sounds of
splashing and the merry laugh of Amy Louise,
the little four-year-old. With the promise of
“going to see Mamma,” Amy Lou would let
anybody do anything this morning, though she
had been insisting upon Betty’s dressing her as
a rule, in this trying interim.

The cause of all this early morning excitement
was that Betty Lee’s family was moving
from the home and town in which they had
lived ever since Betty could remember. A new
home was being established in the city where an
unexpected business opportunity had developed
for her father.

Mrs. Lee had hurried to join her husband as
soon as the goods were ready to be moved by
truck. She must give the final word about such
locations as Mr. Lee was able to find. With
breath-taking swiftness, it seemed to Betty, her
old home had been stripped of its furniture and
seemed like a different place. Temporary headquarters
were made with Aunt Jo Royce, Mr.
Lee’s sister, and at her home the children were
staying in the absence of their mother.

But word had come by telegram. Mrs. Royce
could not accompany them to the city. It was
Betty’s responsibility to manage the most important
transfer of all, that of the Lee children;
and it loomed rather large to her, as she managed
to swallow the soft-boiled egg, all fixed
for her by Lucy Baxter, who lived with her
aunt. But she wished that Lucy would not say
again what she had said more than once already,
with a mournful air.

“It’s *just as well* that your house ain’t sold
yet, I say. Cities don’t always pan out, as I’ve
told your ma. You remember when Mel Haswell
went to Noo York, how quick he come back,
don’t you?”

“Yes, Lucy,” Betty replied pleasantly, though
she wished again that Lucy would not always
appeal to somebody for the truth of her remarks.
You had to say something. That was
expected of you. As if her father were anything
like Mel Haswell!

But Lucy’s cup of cocoa was just right and
the toast was golden. Betty felt ashamed of
her annoyance and told Lucy that she was a
dear to get them such a good breakfast at that
unearthly hour. “I ’spect we’ll be back in Buxton
many times, Lucy. You may get tired of
us.” Hurriedly she finished her breakfast, saying
that she had “promised to stop for the
girls;” and with rapid steps she ran upstairs
again, to gather up her coat, umbrella and
pocketbook, and to see if the last articles were
packed.

“Run along, Betty,” said Aunt Jo, as Betty
ran in to see if she were needed. “We’ll bring
the luggage. Amy Lou was such a good girl
and is almost ready. See, sister, I’m putting
on the dress she likes best!”

This was for the benefit of Amy Louise, who
might insist on accompanying Betty unless
diverted.

“Ought I?” asked Betty, hesitating. She did
not want her aunt to have it too hard at the
last. But Amy Lou was having the dress put
over her head and it was a good time to vanish.
Vanish Betty did at a nod from her aunt.
Stopping to say goodbye to Lucy, and seeing
that Dick and Doris were out for a farewell to
Aunt Jo’s private menagerie of a few chickens
and two handsome dogs, Betty ran out of the
front door to the street.

People at Buxton rose early. Milk bottles
were being taken in and screen doors were
opening or closing; but Betty met no one, as
she sped toward Janet’s home, except a boy
driving an old grocery wagon. Somebody might
want something for breakfast. Bill was on his
way to open up and start things at the store.

The faithful old horse was pulled up suddenly.
“Hello, Betty, going to leave this morning?”

Betty halted, though still moving slowly.
“Yes; the rest of us are going on the morning
train, Bill.” She smiled up at the big lad, who
was a junior in high school. Betty did not
know him very well, though to be sure all the
high school and grade pupils knew each other
and each other’s families more or less.

“Sorry you’re going, Betty. I s’pose you’re
in a hurry, though. So long, Betty. Don’t forget
the old town.” Bill started the horse with
a flap of the reins as he spoke.

“Never,” returned Betty, nodding a farewell
and hurrying on. Was she really going to leave–forever?
She looked down the quiet street
ahead of her. Trees beautiful and green allowed
their branches to meet over the unpaved road.
Homes with large yards displayed trees, shrubbery
and flowers, though so late for many of
them. It was all so familiar that she had forgotten
how it did look!

Betty almost felt like taking a turn around
the block for a last look at their own home; but
she thought of the curtainless windows, the
desolate yard and the empty swing under the
elm trees. No, thank you! Betty sniffed and
fumbled in her pocketbook for a handkerchief.
Was she going to cry now? Not a bit of it!
She had to keep up before the girls. Bounding
a corner, there she was at Janet’s. Janet had
cried last night. It wasn’t real. She was in a
dream!

And Betty had had her dreams, like all girls
of her age. The little town of Buxton was not
a rich one. It was not even in a good farming
center, nor was it a county seat. Two good
school buildings and some churches were its
chief ornaments, architecturally. Among the
people, as always, there were the good element
and the bad or shiftless element. Yet some very
fine people had found a home there and among
them were the friends of Betty Lee’s family.
It was quiet. It was fairly safe. Betty, protected
by the oversight of a sensible yet
idealistic mother, was a happy girl, interested
in everything and ambitious in school, whose
activities were always prominent and whose
teachers held the respect of the community.
Betty would probably marry one of the boys
some day, as she had seen older girls do, and
settle down. Perhaps she could go away to
school for a year or two. If she couldn’t, there
were always books and music and friends, nice
things to do and dear people to love. Vague
thoughts like this about the future were in her
mind when she thought about it at all. Her
father and mother were her standards of excellence;
and therein lay much safety, since those
two were wise and self-controlled.

And now, so unexpectedly, there was this
bewildering change to city life. It was exciting
to think about it and yet Betty could not foresee
the changes it was going to make in her whole
adventure of living. For in the new and in
many ways very superior school to which she
was going, new friends, with work, play, perplexity,
even mystery, perhaps, and a wider
choice of opportunity waited for this wholesome,
attractive Betty Lee. To say the least,
life was not going to be dull, and this Betty felt.

“No, there’s something about Betty Lee.”
Janet Light was saying to Sue Miller. “I don’t
believe that she ‘will be lost in the multitude,’
as she says. Her teachers will *notice* her at
least. I’d pick Betty out in a thousand!”

“Oh, that’s natural. You’re her chum. But
isn’t she sort of scared to go to such a big
school?”

“No, I don’t think Betty’s scared. Of course–you
know Betty. She wouldn’t want to show
it if she were. I think that she’s really crazy
about going; but you can imagine how she’d
feel, dread it a little. I only wish I could go–that
is, if I could take everybody along!”

“Yes. It’s wonderful even to travel to a city;
but to live there!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” remarked Janet, taking
a new tack. “You couldn’t get into the country
so much.”

“You could if you had a car.”

“If is a big word, Sue. Betty said her father
had to have something different from the old
machine now, but he’ll be in business most of
the time.”

The two girls were sitting on the Light porch,
waiting for Betty and talking as fast as girls
can when there is some interesting subject. To
Janet the departure of her dearest chum was
more or less upsetting. Sue was not so intimate
and Betty had never had any suspicion of the
admiration with which Sue regarded her. She
was really surprised that Sue wanted to see her
off, with Janet.

“It’s pretty cool this morning,” Sue inserted,
throwing her light coat around her shoulders.
“I nearly melted yesterday when I came on the
train from Grandma’s. But it wasn’t much of
a ride.” Sue was thinking that her little trip
was nothing in comparison with Betty’s coming
day of travel.

“It was that big rain and the wind yesterday
that changed things. I was over with Betty till
late because it rained so hard all evening.
That’s why I could hardly wake up this morning.
It’s a good thing you were to stop for me,
for Mother didn’t call me. She forgot.”

“I just *happened* to telephone you before I
started, thought maybe you’d rather go down
to Mrs. Royce’s.”

“Lucky you did. But no, I thought there
would be so much confusion with everybody
hurrying perhaps, and Betty said she would be
sure to stop. It’s right on the way to the station
anyhow.” With this, Janet ran in for the second
time, to see if it were getting anywhere near
train time. “No, there’s loads of time,” she
reported.

“The rain was why I didn’t get to see Betty
at all,” Sue explained. “I had a headache and
lay down after I came home; and at supper–at
*supper*, mind you, Mother *happened to tell me*
about how the Lees were moving to the city!
It had all gone on while I was at Grandma’s and
nobody ever told me a word! Of course, I
wasn’t writing to anybody, not even Mother but
once. She and Grandma exchange letters every
week, though.”

“It was in the paper and I suppose everybody
thought you knew. Betty was in too much of
a whirl. Her mother’s only written cards, and
just a telegram came, saying which train they
were to take. Betty does not even know the
address of where she’s going!”

“How could the goods go down, then? Somebody
had to know.”

“I think the truckman was to telephone the
boarding house or office or some place after he
reached the city, to find out where to take the
goods.”

“I should think that Mrs. Lee would have
wanted Betty to help get settled.”

“She was going to hire some one to put it
through, in a hurry. Besides, Mrs. Royce
couldn’t manage Amy Louise without Betty. As
it was, she made a dreadful fuss.”

“I suppose so. But Betty spoils her, too.”

“Not so much. When Betty says, ‘Amy Louise
Lee’, in that way of hers. Amy Lou pays attention.”

“How old is Betty anyway?”

“She’ll be fourteen in December. Don’t you
remember her birthday party last year?”

“That’s so. Oh, here’s Betty! ’Lo there,
Betty Lee!”

Sue ran down to meet Betty, who walked
briskly around the corner and to the open gate;
for Janet’s home, like Betty’s, actually had a
fence! With a little squeeze and kiss, Sue led
Betty to the porch, where Janet, smiling,
waited. “I would have felt awful, Betty,” cried
Sue, “not to have had a glimpse of you! I
never knew a word about it.”

“It was a shame, Sue; but you can just
imagine how it’s been. I haven’t known whether
I was on my head or my feet.”

“Of course. What a pretty suit you have, all
blue, your color, Betty, and hat to match and
everything–even gloves, Janet!”

Betty laughed at that. “I’ll probably not
have them on much, with Amy Lou to take care
of. I’m glad you like my things. Auntie drove
me clear to Columbus to shop. You see I’ve
had to get ready for school, too, for it begins
almost as soon as I get there. Won’t it be
terrible to learn what street cars to take and
everything, unless Father can drive me to
school?”

“Aren’t you awfully excited, Betty?”

“I suppose I am. But all I can think of right
now is getting through this trip with Amy Lou.
She never was on a train before, if she is four
years old; so I don’t know what she will do.
But I’m hoping that she will be shy, the way
she is when strangers are around, and she may
sleep since we’ve been up so early. I think we’d
better walk along, girls. I’ll go in and say goodbye
to the folks, Janet.”

Betty was in the house a few minutes only.
Then they strolled toward the little railroad
station, only a short distance of a few blocks.
Several people came along, to see Betty and
stop, shaking hands and saying goodbye. Ahead
of them walked Aunt Jo with the littlest Lee,
while Doris was accompanied by three girls of
about her own age, and a freckled-faced boy
scampered on in advance, with Dick. “I wondered
what had become of Billy,” said Janet,
recognizing her brother.

Soon they stood in partly separated groups
on the small platform. Amy Lou started back
after the cat, but was rescued in time by her
aunt’s restraining hand. To permit Betty and
the other children last words with their friend,
capable Aunt Jo walked up and down now with
the child, showing her what little there was to
see and making up a story about the rails. Distracted
as Betty was, she kept in mind a picture
of these last details.

“Oh, dear, Betty,” said Sue, as train time
drew near at hand, “you are not going to forget
us, are you?”

“Forget you–I should say not! Forget the
girls I’ve been with since the first grade in
school!” Betty held out a warm hand to each,
as they stood closely now. She and Janet exchanged
a smiling look. They had been all over
that phase the night before.

“But it can never be the same,” mourned Sue.

“Maybe it will be better!” brightly suggested
Betty. “You’ll both come down to visit me in
vacations and I’ll take you all around–that is,
if I ever learn to get around everywhere myself.”

“That would be wonderful–if it could
happen. Maybe I wouldn’t be allowed to go,
though.”

“Oh, yes! We get older every year, you know.”

Sue looked doubtful. Money was scarce in
Sue’s home. It did not roll in at the village
store which her father kept.

“Brace up, Susie,” laughingly said Janet.
“We must send Betty off with nothing but good
wishes. Let’s not begin to mourn now. That’s
what Mother told me last night, and I pass it
on to you.”

“All right, Janet. You’re right. Good luck
and a grand time, Betty. Mercy! There’s the
train tooting now and I haven’t said goodbye
to the rest!”

Betty made a dash for Amy Louise, to hold
her hand firmly. Last goodbyes were said.
Dick and Doris gathered up the bags while the
train rounded the curve at a little distance. The
freckled lad soberly regarded Dick as he said,
“Well, so long, Dick. So long, Doris;” and Doris
was being embraced by the excited little girls,
who followed the travelers and tried not to get
in the way of various small trucks.

“Help Betty all you can, Dick,” advised Mrs.
Royce, handing an extra piece of baggage up
to Dick, who was last to board the train. “Remember
that I shall want a card mailed at once
to make sure of your safety. If anything goes
wrong, send a telegram.”

Dick, grinning, feeling not a little important
with his manly duties, nodded and disappeared
after his sisters. The group on the platform,
watching the windows, were presently rewarded
by seeing smiling faces. Dick was trying to
put up a window, but without success; or possibly
the others were too impatient to wait for
him to find out how to do it.

Amy Louise, her light hair and childish face
framed in a hat that was now pushed back in
the effort to see, smiled and threw kisses. She
had no regrets. She was on her way to her
mother. Betty’s face looked brightly out above
Amy Louise, and there were Doris and Dick,
the blessed twins! Aunt Jo tried not to show
the anxiety she felt. But Betty would see it
through!

There went the clanging bell. Now the train
started. Now they were gone; and the small
group on the platform turned away with that
odd, lost feeling that comes when something is
over.

The freckle-faced lad scampered away alone.
Mrs. Royce, after exchanging pleasant words
with the girls, hurried homeward with her
thoughts. The rest scattered. School was opening
for them, too. There would be plenty of
activities to take up their time and interest.
Janet and Sue would report to the other girls
how they saw Betty Lee off that early morning.
And they all would laugh over one quoted
speech of Betty’s when she said, “I imagine,
girls, that this is my most *moving* adventure!”

CHAPTER II: BETTY MEETS RESPONSIBILITY AND A TRIAL OF PATIENCE
==============================================================

Whatever puns, good or bad, Betty might
make on this unaccustomed adventure of hers,
she was more accustomed to the little responsibilities
that fall to the eldest child in a normal
family than only children could be; and these
in a measure had prepared her for this trip. As
soon as they were settled in their seats, it all
seemed natural enough. Proper conduct in
public was a matter of natural pride with this
family, with the possible exception of Amy
Louise, who had not reached the age of entire
self control! Dick was hoping that she would
not do anything to embarrass them, for she
sometimes howled when she could not do what
she wanted to do.

Betty, across the aisle from Dick and Doris,
gave Dick an understanding look and a smile
when he gave Doris the seat next to the window.
Dick appeared not to notice this, but he felt
that he was a pretty good protector of the girls
when necessary. Betty need not think that she
was the only one who could do things. And
Betty was thinking that Dick was going to be a
great help. The worst would be changing cars
at the first city.

Clutching the tickets, Betty had them ready
when the conductor came along. He lived in
their town and knew her father. It had been
a blow to the little town when a railroad line
took off all but one passenger train each way,
with a few freight trains.

“Oh, yes,” cheerily said the conductor, “you’re
going away for good now. Your father told me
to look after you when you came along.” The
tickets were being punched and given back to
Betty.

“Don’t lose your tickets and you’ll be all
right. No you don’t change stations. Anything
you want to know you can ask about at the
window marked ‘information.’ But outside you’ll
find the train notices, and a light come on when
the train is in. When you get off, you’d better
get a red-cap to take your bags up for you.”

Betty had a hazy notion of what was meant,
though she had visited the city where they were
to change cars, it was very different, however,
to follow some one else without noticing how
it was managed. She determined to keep her
eyes open on future trips. Well, there was no
use in worrying, but she wasn’t going to trust
the bags to any porter. They could carry what
they had. Also, they would stay together, as
Aunt Jo had advised, with no expeditions here
and there while they waited for their second
train. In this case ignorance was not bliss, for
what would have been perfectly simple to an
experienced traveler was a matter for serious
consideration to Betty.

Fortunately, Amy Lou was angelic. Fascinated
by the kaleidoscope of scenery, she
watched it happily; and when they left the train
she willingly clung to Betty’s hand, saying, “I
don’t want to get losted, do I?” She nearly
went to sleep in the station during their long
wait, but Dick came to the rescue with some
entertainment, just as Betty was having visions
of having to carry a heavy Amy Lou to the train.

At last they were established on the right
train for the city for which, they were bound and
Betty breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing but a
wreck could keep them from home now, she told
Dick.

“‘Home!’” repeated Dick, pursing his lips.

“Well,” argued Doris, “Betty’s right. It’ll
be home, even if we’ve never seen it.”

“Wherever Mother and Father are, it’s home,
isn’t it?” and Betty’s dimples showed as she
spoke.

“You win,” grinned Dick, suggesting that
Aunt Jo’s lunch be served.

They all did their best, but the last hours
were trying after little naps were over and
time was dragging for them all, unaccustomed
as they were to long train rides. When they
were feeling that they could not stand it any
longer and Amy Lou was beginning to be fractious,
they drew into the suburbs of the “city
of our dreams,” as Doris sarcastically remarked.
But interest revived and Dick told the
youngest sister to watch for the place where
they would find their mother. It was a happy
suggestion, particularly for Betty, who was
thinking that patience would cease to be a virtue
pretty soon, if she had to keep the child in check
much longer.

At last the crowds were in the aisles. The
train stopped with its accustomed jerk. The
tiresome day was almost over.

Which way should they go? The direction of
the crowd settled that question for them, but
where would they find Father? They avoided
little baggage trucks that ran about and looked
like hand-cars off the track. Here were iron
gates where Dick, at Betty’s suggestion, inquired
the way to the waiting room, where they
found “Information” again. By this time Betty
was worried. Where could her father be?

For the sake of the rest, she made herself
keep calm and cheerful and Dick suggested that
it was not easy to get around in a city. Probably
they would be there pretty soon.

“I hope they know the train we’re coming
on,” said Doris. “I *told* you, Betty, that we
ought to telegraph.”

“*They* told *us* the day and the train, Doris,”
firmly said Betty. But Betty looked apprehensively
at some of the people in the room. There
was a much better room upstairs, but Betty did
not know that and there was no one to tell her.

Finally Amy Lou began to cry. That was the
last straw. Betty hunted for what addresses
she had and made her way again to
“Information.” She wondered if she had enough
money to pay for a taxi. And did you pay for
everyone, or was it some other way? Dick was
scouting around outside now. He could find out
things. Boys always could.

Then all at once darkness changed to light,
figuratively speaking. Before she had made an
inquiry, she heard a squeal from Amy Lou and
turned to see if Doris were having trouble with
her. But it had been a happy squeal, not a
cross one. There was Father, with his baby
in his arms and Doris holding to one hand! A
very thankful girl ran back to her family.

“I’m so sorry, Betty,” said Mr. Lee, “that
you have had this wait and worry. I had expected
to meet you right at the train and take
you to our own car. Come on. We’ll talk after
we get started. It was an important business
conference and I could not leave early. Then
traffic was heavy and it was farther to the
station from our office that I thought. That was
all.”

Watching for trucks, street-cars and machines
of all sorts, they made their way to
where the new car was parked. Exclamations
of delight pleased Mr. Lee. Dick wanted to know
all about it. It was not of a highly expensive
make, but as their father said, it would hold
them all. “I almost need a smaller one, too,”
said he, explaining, “though I’m not on the sales
end of affairs. They’ve done me the honor to
put me among the executives, kiddies, and ask
me to tell how I managed to do so well in my
little factory. I told the president, that it was
nothing, only quality of goods and good management;
but he had me discuss products and
management at this conference.”

“Good for you, Pop!” said Dick.

“But I’m going to ask you all to help me,
children. To make this change and to live in a
city is going to draw heavily on what I had
saved. In fact, there isn’t any too much left,
except some property in the home town. So
don’t get any big ideas of what we can do here
in the way of living like some of the people you
will see.”

“Aren’t there any folks just like us, Papa?”
asked Doris, rather bewildered. They had
started now and slowly Mr. Lee was driving the
car, up a hill and behind an immense truck.

“Plenty of them, Doris, and thousands not
half so well off.”

The children were now too much interested
in their surroundings to ask questions. Their
father explained a little about some of the
streets through which they passed, and pointed
out some of the buildings, though he was not
yet familiar with the city and was compelled to
keep to well-known thoroughfares on his way
out to the suburb where they were to live. “This
is what they call ‘downtown,’” said he. “When
your mother and I considered locations near we
found nothing suitable. So we are out where
we can have a few flowers in the yard at least.”

Betty looked with “all her eyes,” as she said.
Streams of cars filled the streets. Her father
watched the lights carefully and was prepared
to get out of the way when a reckless driver
shot in front of him, almost shaving a street car.
“Hey, you!” exclaimed Dick, but the man could
not hear. “Why, if you hadn’t swerved to the
right that fellow would have hit us!”

“Yes, Dick. He was either intoxicated, or just
reckless. There are many such in the city.”

But in spite of what tired Betty considered
several narrow escapes, they successfully
reached the suburb desired, where rows of
houses, some of brick, some of frame, some of
stone, had a bit of yard in front and behind;
and on the porch of one there stood a slender
and familiar figure.

“Mamma!” cried Amy Lou, wiggling down
from between Betty and Doris. But Betty kept
a stout hold upon her little sister until the car
stopped in front. “I’ll let you girls out here,”
said Mr. Lee, “but Dick may come with me to
the garage.”

Amy Louise flew to her mother, while the
other two girls walked briskly up the short distance
from the barberry hedge to the porch. The
house was of brick, well-built and attractive.
“Why, this is real nice, Mother!” exclaimed
Betty, the last to be embraced, but as warmly
welcomed. Betty was trying to remember to
call her parents Father and Mother, since some
one had told her it was more dignified.

They entered a hall of fair size, then a large
front room with a big window in it, the piano
in the right spot, a fireplace–why, it would be
home after all! Familiar rugs and furniture
met Betty’s eyes. Of them her last view had
been what Betty called “ghastly,” all done up
ready to be moved in that horrid truck. But the
“horrid truck” had brought them unmarred to
their present position. Here were all of their
treasures–and each other.

“I don’t believe, after all, Mother,” said she,
looking around, “that *walls* make so, so *much*
difference!”

“Not with our own pictures on them,” replied
Mother, understanding. “I wish that all you
could have helped me decide where to put
things; but if you girls think of any good
changes, we shall make them.”

“Did you have a very dreadful time to find
a place?” asked Doris.

“It was not easy. An apartment house did not
seem to be the best place for children. This is
not one of the most modern houses, but there
are enough bedrooms, hard to find, and something
of a kitchen. I could not imagine myself
cooking for this family in some of the tiny
kitchenettes we saw. We shall be comfortable,
I think.

“We have the whole first floor. It is just a
big house made into two apartments or flats.
Only two people are above us. There are two
furnaces and we have our own gas and electricity.
We are to look after the yard.
Running the lawn mower will be Dick’s job.” Mrs.
Lee looked teasingly at Dick as she spoke.

“I thought I’d get out of that in a city,” returned
Dick; but he did not seem to mind the
proposition very much. He was still thinking
of the new car, though he had been content to
leave more detailed examinations until the next
day. “The thing that’s most like home,” continued
Dick, “is that good smell of cooking in
an oven somewhere. Is it a roast, Mother?
Yes, and I smell cookies!”

“Right, son,” and Mrs. Lee led the way to the
kitchen, where cookies still warm from the
baking were to be nibbled by hungry travelers.
They would still have things to eat in the city!

Still further investigation disclosed a “den,”
which had become a sleeping room for Dick; a
dressing room off the main bedroom, making
a safe and cosy place for Amy Lou’s bed, and a
good bedroom for Doris and Betty. A large
bathroom was at the end of the hall. “You
haven’t any idea, children, how thankful I was
to find this, with enough room, all on one floor,
and nice and clean, with new plumbing!”

Betty looked thoughtfully at her mother. It
was new to her to think about homes, which,
so far as she had ever thought, grew upon
bushes. And that rent was terrible. Wouldn’t
it take more than Papa earned? Her mother
assured her that it would not, but remarked that
the increase in income did not amount to as
much as they had supposed, because of increased
expenses.

“Let’s go back,” said Betty, reacting to her
first lesson in economic lines. But she was
laughing.

“You know you wouldn’t do it for anything,
Betty Lee,” cried Doris. “I’m just as glad as
I can be. Won’t it be great to go to all these
wonderful places?” This was after their mother
had suddenly left them in their room, to answer
a call from her husband.

“Yes,” sighed Betty, “but now listen, Doris–please
don’t begin by throwing your things all
around. We’ve a big closet, anyhow; but do
let’s keep things straight as we can!”

“You can, if you want to. I’m getting into
my bathrobe the quickest I can,” and Doris
kicked a shoe under the bed.

“I suppose you are tired,” and Betty sighed
again. “I don’t really care, either. It’s certainly
good to pass Amy Lou over to Mother.”

“She could have been worse coming down, but
I’m glad I’m not the oldest. She always gets
stubborn when *I* try to do anything with her.”

Betty felt like telling Doris that she did not
try the right way; but did not want to start
further argument and realized that her own disposition
was not in its best state after her day
of being “chief boss,” as Dick had put it several
times. Doris might take her hot bath first.
Then it would be tub for her and bed as soon
as possible after supper, which would be called
dinner now, Mother said. Happily it was the
week-end. There would be Saturday and Sunday
for getting settled, seeing the city and hearing
church music of the best. Then would come
Monday and school. What a vista for Betty
Lee! The future, though unknown, was enticing.

CHAPTER III: “THE FATEFUL DAY”
==============================

The “fateful day,” as Betty’s father jokingly
called it, had arrived. On Monday morning
there were great stirrings in the Lee menage.
Betty’s mother was up early, getting everybody
else up on time, seeing that the school credentials
were at hand, ready to be taken by the
children and presented at the schools. Amy
Lou, fortunately, slept on, not waking until
everybody else was at the breakfast table.

Betty started to get up when a mournful wail
came from the bedroom. Amy Lou had been
Betty’s responsibility and she could not quite
realize that in school days now her first concern
was to be her lessons, as her mother’s custom
desired it to be, though in moments of stress,
Betty knew well, she was to be on the “relief
corps,” another of her father’s expressions.

“Not you this time, daughter,” said Mrs. Lee,
rising. “Finish your breakfast and be ready
when your father goes. You’d better take
charge of all the grades and give Doris and
Dick their papers when they get there.”

It was very exciting. What would the new
big school be like? Dick and Doris talked
steadily during breakfast. “If old Bill was just
here,” said Dick, “I’d give him the Merry Ha-ha
about our going to a junior high school!”

Doris settled her beads about her neck, looked
down at her neat frock, chosen as suitable by
her mother, then thrusting her napkin by her
plate, she scampered, unexcused, from the table,
to do last things.

Betty exchanged an amused glance with her
father, who rose and went out to bring up the
car. Betty hastily carried a few dishes, from
their places, to the kitchen, as Mrs. Lee came
out with a cross Amy Lou, and then ran off
herself to get ready.

It seemed no time at all before they were in
the car, driving to the school, which they had
seen only in passing. The morning traffic was
heavy and swift. Cars were making their rapid
way in the direction of “town.” Street cars
clattered. Trucks and buses avoided them by
inches only. Overhead there was the occasional
roar of a plane from the flying field.

At last they had reached the green campus of
the school. “I’m glad we go here,” said Doris,
“instead of to that school we saw where the
grounds are all gravel.”

“That was a new building, Doris,” said her
Dad, “the grounds are probably not finished.”

“I don’t think so, Papa,” returned Doris.
“You know how the school board man at home
said that there was no use in sodding our new
school grounds because the boys would spoil it
all playing ball and things. And they put gravel
on it, and every time you fell down running it
hurt like everything.”

Doris had no reply to this, for Mr. Lee was
stopping before the concrete sidewalk that bordered
the school grounds. “Hop out, children,”
said he. “I’m sorry that I can’t stop with you.
You know what the buildings are, however. Inquire
your way to the office of the principal,
you know. Sure you know what cars to take to
get home?”

“Yes, Father,” Betty answered. “Dick promised
to wait for Doris; so if they can’t find me
they’ll go home together. My, what a crowd!”

Mr. Lee glanced with some fatherly pride at
the little group of three that walked from the
car to the entrance of the grounds. There a
long walk, paved and lined with beautiful shrubbery,
led to the impressive front of the building
that spread so widely with its wings and corners.
Then he detached himself from the rest
of the cars that were either drawing up to discharge
pupils or were parked in a long row
along the curb. The Lee children were already
lost in the kaleidoscope of moving boys and
girls, of all ages, heights, and costumes, most
of them very nice-looking, Betty’s father
thought. He hoped that there would be no
trouble about their entrance papers. Mrs. Lee
could scarcely risk taking Amy Lou to the
school, and he had told her that the children
might just as well begin to depend on themselves,
even if the city was new to them.

Nevertheless, it would have been better if it
had been possible for a parent to accompany
them, and no one knew that better than Mr. Lee.
The hurry of their becoming settled had not
been easy for any of them and a city offered
many dangers, especially those of traffic. But
as the fever of hurry had not yet infected them,
it was likely that they would be careful in crossing
streets and would observe the traffic
regulations. He was glad to see that a traffic officer
had been stationed at the school crossing.

“We look as well as most of them,” said
Doris, though rather doubtfully, as she looked
admiringly at a tall girl who was strolling by
with a youth as tall as she. They were laughing
and talking and the girl was wearing a silk
dress as pretty and stylish, as light in color and
as good, as Betty’s “Sunday frock,” Doris said.

“Yes,” said Betty, “but there’s every sort,
and our pretty summer dresses that Mother
made look all right. There–see that awfully
pretty girl, Doris. Her green dress is trimmed
with white organdy exactly like your blue one!”

The two younger children left Betty to go
around to the entrance of their own separate
building. Betty handed each of them the envelope
with the respective credits and grades and
then went up the steps with her own in her hand.
Mercy, what a babel of voices! Betty stopped
still and looked around. Good! There were all
sorts of notices posted. She read them. That long
line of boys and girls must lead to the “office.”

“Freshmen go to Assembly Hall,” she read.
Now where was the “Assembly Hall?” Oh, that
must be it, where all those younger looking boys
and girls were going. She followed, joining the
stream of boys and girls that in groups or singly
entered the wide doors.

Oh, what a fine, big hall! Was this really a
public school? Facing her was the wide stage
with its handsome velvet curtains, and my, all
those pipes must be of a big pipe organ! Yes,
there was the place for the organist at the side.

Betty slipped into a seat. Some one was reading
names and telling them what to do. She
would sit there and listen. It was pleasantly
cool in the immense hall. Although it was morning,
the September day was already warm.
Betty felt a little confused, but soon concentrated
her attention upon what was going on.
Girls and boys were leaving the hall at times.

Finally she bethought herself of the fact that
her name could not possibly be read out, since
they had never heard of her. A girl who sat
beside her looked friendly. She would ask. Yes,
these were the names of all the freshmen who
were coming in from other schools or the junior
high right here. They had turned in their credits
and were assigned to “home rooms and so forth.”

Now what were “home rooms,” and what did
“and so forth” include? She could not ask the
person who was reading the names. She hated
to ask questions of any other pupil near her.
She would seem like such a “dummy.” But she
must find out what to do. She would go out and
see if she should go to the “office” first.

Quietly Betty slipped out of the seat and went
out into the noisy hall. She went near the door
and peeped into the office. Some one in the
line thought that she was going to get by and
nodded in the direction of the rear. It was a
“snippy” sort of a look, Betty thought, that this
girl directed toward her. Betty merely looked
at her with a contemplative gaze and nodded in
understanding. She would not say anything
either. She could see what was going on. That
was the principal, she supposed, busy with students.
There were several teachers or assistants
of some sort there. Yes, this must be what
she must do; besides, her father had told her
to go to the office. It was that sign that mislead
her. My, what a long line. Would she ever
get any attention from the principal? But Betty
walked back and took her place in line, intending
to ask some one in it what this line was “supposed
to be waiting for.”

But there were two or three boys, perfectly
strange to her, of course, just ahead of her. And
behold, two very tall lads walked up and took
their places behind her. The first one was such
a fine-looking boy, with a good face, indeed,
rather striking features, clear grey eyes,
“almost blue,” Betty thought, as she gave him
a quick glance. He was dressed suitably and
neatly, yet looked “very stylish,” Betty thought,
and a silk handkerchief peeped from his pocket.
The conversation of the two boys helped Betty
through the first part of her wearisome wait.

“Going in for athletics this year, Ted?” asked
the “other boy,” who was not quite so interesting,
Betty thought, though he had a pleasant
boyish, face, too. He was coatless and had his
shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows. But
a neat tie finished his soft collar and he looked
as fresh and clean as possible.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Harry,
swimming, of course, and the usual gym work,
perhaps. But Mother wants me to be in the
orchestra this year and that takes a lot of time.
To tell the truth, I’d like to have a little time
for my lessons!”

“I’ve *got* to have,” assented Harry. “I worked
my freshman year, but last year wasn’t so good,
and Dad says he won’t stand for it. My grades
weren’t so bad, but you should have heard the
razzing I got! Dad took the card and went
through the grades out loud.

“‘That grade in English from the son of a
teacher!’

“‘Eighty in Latin, when you ought to have
had ninety at least!’

“I mustered up grit enough to tell him that
Latin was hard and that eighty was a pretty
good grade and that I hadn’t failed in anything.
But did that stop him? It did not.

“‘Fail! Fail? Hum! Mathematics, not so
bad. Pretty respectable showing in science,’–‘well,
make a better showing next year or I might
have to put you to work.’ He gave me a quizzical
smile, at least that is what Mother called
it, and handed me back my card. Gee, sometimes
I wish he *would* put me to work, but after
all, if you can get by with, your lessons, the old
place here looks pretty good.”

“I’ll say it does today. How long do you
suppose we’ll have to stand here?”

“Until after lunch time, that’s what.”

Betty, who had scarcely been able to keep
from laughing out when “Harry” had been
impersonating his father, so good and funny a
performance he had made of it, now sighed.
She was tired already. It was worse than waiting
in line at the one moving picture house
that their little town had boasted. She changed
her weight, a light one, from one foot to the
other. She fiddled with the long white envelope
in her hand and once opened it to peep inside
and make sure that its contents were still there.

But that was just the beginning. She held
her place in line, wondering what the two boys
to whose conversation she had listened were
there to do. Perhaps there had to be some
change in their work. But they talked about
everything else. Finally Betty thought she
would “just have to go and sit down somewhere
to rest,” but she kept standing in spite of her
real fatigue. She was toward the end of the
line and only two or three persons had followed
the boys at first; then a few scattered additions
had been made. A few in front had dropped out.

Finally some one came from the office to make
an announcement to the line. Only a few more
would be interviewed before lunch; and after
lunch, those who were new would be seen first.
Others need not take their place in line until
later, as all changes of schedule would be
handled later in the day.

Immediately the line ceased to be one, as its
components vanished. Betty again went into
the auditorium and sank into a seat to rest.
What was it that tired her so standing in line?
She was probably just sort of tired from everything,
all the change and excitement and the
responsibility of getting Amy Lou down on the
train, though, that hadn’t turned out to be so
bad. Luckily some one near her was discussing
lunch; for Betty was hungry and did not enjoy
the thought of going without what had always
been the family dinner. It had been easy enough
in the village for her father to come home from
his business and for the children to come from
school, returning in plenty of time for the afternoon
session. Now it would be different indeed.
Mother had said that dinner would be at night,
as Father would have his lunch down town; and
on the street car it would take the children
almost half an hour to reach home, to say
nothing of extra street-car fare. There was to
be lunch served at the school, they understood,
but would there be any today?

“No,” the girl behind her was saying in a low
tone, though the names had long since been read
out and the freshmen dismissed to the “home
rooms.” Only scattered groups of resting pupils
were here and there in the seats. Betty was in
the next to the last row and three girls had just
entered the last row together.

“I’m a wreck from standing in that line,” said
the first one, as she dropped into a seat. “Aren’t
they going to serve lunch today?”

Then came the answer, for which Betty
listened. “No; don’t you remember that we
never have lunch at first?”

“Well, I’ve only one year to remember, May,
and I never did get anything straight when I
was a freshman, at first anyhow.”

Betty’s heart warmed with a fellow feeling.

“I certainly wish that we could have one of
those good lunches, but I suppose it won’t kill
us to starve for once. Let’s go down to you
know where and get a Swiss chocolate sundae.
We can get back in time.”

“I’d rather not, May; besides I’ve only got
my street-car fare and ten cents, I think.”

“I’ll lend you some more,” suggested May.

“Can’t possible this time; too tired, besides.
There used to be a place opposite the school.
What’s become of that? I used to get chocolate
bars and sandwiches there.”

“New building across the street. Well, if you
aren’t going, I am. Shall I bring you something?
Maybe I’ll have a sandwich, too.”

“If you can get one for ten cents–no, here
are some coppers. Hurrah!”

Evidently the girl behind Betty was emptying
her store of small funds into the hand of the
other girl. There was giggling and a scrambling
after a copper that had dropped and
rolled. Then one girl left and the other strolled
over to join a group of girls by a window.

Betty wished that she had brought a chocolate
bar which by the irony of fate she had
taken out of her bag to leave it home! But
she could go without a meal if she had to do
it. She could get something to eat as soon as
she reached home.

Rested now, she thought she would go over
to the building which housed the junior high
school and see if Doris and Dick were also
waiting around. It was quite a little walk, or
seemed so to Betty, but it was interesting when
she reached the place and entered it. Scarcely
any children were to be seen. She walked
through vacant halls and decided that Doris and
Dick had already gone home. She hoped that
her mother would not be worried about her.
There was no way of getting her word, though
she had seen a telephone in the office. But of
course she could not use that.

Time slipped by in some fashion. She went
back to the auditorium, now about deserted. She
watched the time, determined to be one of the
first at the office door, and as all things come
to an end at last, she found herself talking to
a sober, dignified, yet kindly man in the office,
arranging her schedule or, more properly,
answering questions about the work she had
covered, and receiving a “slip” to present to her
“home room teacher” the next day.

It was all more or less puzzling to the young
freshman from away; but she understood the
next step and where she was to report on the
following day. That would have to be enough.
A somewhat breathless, excited, and very
hungry Betty reached home at about two o’clock
in the afternoon, welcomed by her mother as a
returning prodigal and directed to where she
would find the “fatted calf” or a more attractive
substitute.

CHAPTER IV: A REAL FRESHMAN AT LAST
===================================

Mother suggested putting up a lunch for the
children on the second morning of school, but
Dick said that they would not need any. “One
of the kids said that we get out the same time
tomorrow,” said he. And Betty corroborated
Dick’s statement.

“I’ll not have to wait in line today, Mother,”
said Betty. “That’s all attended to. I know
just what to do. You go to your home room,
do whatever you are told to do and I guess you
report to your different teachers. We get out
at twelve-thirty. After we really have classes
and two sessions there will be a place to get
lunches, somewhere upstairs.”

Back again in the echoing halls of the school
building, Betty felt that the worst was over, yet
she was both lonely and a little timid in regard
to what was still before her. Oh for Janet or
some one of the girls she knew! Other girls,
who must have been in the eighth grade together,
were walking arm in arm, or with arms
around each other’s waist as they approached
the door of the same home room to which
Betty’s feet were carrying her. She wondered
if poor little Doris felt the same way. She went
into the school room with the others, finding its
back seats well filled already. Accordingly she
dropped into the nearest front seat, which was
on the outside row near the door.

As it was not polite to stare, she believed, she
did not look at the girls sitting around her except
for glances here and there; but it was perfectly
legitimate to gaze forward at the home
room teacher. Was she going to like her?

Two teachers were standing, near the large
desk in front and before the blackboard, which
covered its appropriate space on three walls.
The fourth side of the room was devoted to
windows. The teachers were laughing and talking
together, apparently in the best of spirits.
Then a gong rang, or something made a sound
in the halls and a corresponding ring in the
room. Immediately one of the ladies departed
and the other turned to face the class with a
great change of countenance, not exactly stern,
Betty thought, but it was quite obvious that her
home room teacher was ready to handle any
obstreperous little freshman who did not want
to keep order.

But no one was disorderly this morning. It
was an event to enter high school. The expectant
faces met the dignified survey of the
teacher. In due time she explained what was to
be done. Cards were there from the office.
Schedules had been made out for each one.
They were to report to their respective teachers
at the rooms whose numbers were given.
Lockers could not be given for some time. They
would be obliged to carry their books and take
them home, but it was remarked that they would
want to study at home in any event. Books
would be given out on the next day.

“Oh, then, you didn’t have to buy any books,”
Betty thought. She wondered if her mother
would like that. They would never buy any
second hand books and her mother had ideas
on germs. There were a number of questions
that Betty would have liked to ask as the teacher
talked, but she did not dare interrupt. There
seemed to be too many things to remember. Of
course, it was easier for the girls and boys that
lived in the city all the time.

“And now,” the teacher was saying, “I want
you to give your whole attention to one thing.
On these cards that I am giving you, you will
see what you are to write; and while I know
that this is all rather new to you, that fact is
not going to excuse you for making mistakes in
what is really important. Pay attention and do
not write until you are sure you know what to
write down.

“Perhaps you wonder why I am saying this,
but if you saw some of the cards that we have
had in past years, you would not wonder at all.
When you read that line saying the year of your
birth, don’t put down the present year. Girls
less than a year old are not admitted to the
freshman class!”

There was a subdued ripple of laughter at
this, though it was just possible that some of
the girls did not understand the joke. A few
looked worried. But Betty had never been
really afraid of teachers, having had no cause
to be afraid, and she did not intend to begin
now. Very carefully she read over the list of
what she was supposed to record; and then,
after the teacher was through with her explanation,
she started in. There was nothing very
bad about this. Of course they wanted to know
your address and who your father and mother
were and everything.

“Elizabeth Virginia Lee,” she wrote, her
name “in full,” in careful round and legible
hand. Writing was not hard for Betty, which
was fortunate and would make her entire school
life easier for her. Betty had been named for
two grandmothers. At present she “rather
hated it,” the long names, but she always added
that they were good, sensible names and that
her mother like them.

Betty remembered the year of her birth and
was not obliged to count back, as the teacher
had suggested might be necessary. Indeed, the
teacher had grown a little sarcastic while remarking
that “they” were “not particularly
interested in mere birthdays,” and that “birthday
presents were not given.”

A colored girl across the aisle from Betty
looked at the teacher with such a blank stare
at this that Betty’s amusement was increased.
My, the teacher was funny. She wasn’t so bad
and was rather pretty, too. Once Betty’s
intelligent and understanding look had caught the
eye of her teacher as she was in the midst of
one of the funny speeches and Betty was sure
that the twinkle and comical raising of the eyebrows
was for her.

“She shan’t have any reason to make fun of
*my* card,” thought Betty. “She looked at me as
if she thought I had some sense, anyhow.” But
teachers were accustomed to find response in
Betty Lee’s eyes and the mind back of them.
At this stage, however, and particularly when
the girls were dismissed, to find their respective
teachers and the rooms where they were to
recite, Betty was sure that she had no mind at
all. If she had only known some one! But
every one was busy with her own affairs, or
went off with some other girls. And that building!
Would she ever learn where to go? Luckily
her home room teacher taught one of the freshman
classes in which she had been placed and
in the same room. That was one off the list
very shortly.

The halls were full of wandering pupils on
the same errands that concerned Betty; but her
mind was too set upon her purpose to see them
individually until once, when she was almost
run over by a tall lad who came flying around
the corner from a run down a stairway, she
recognized the boy who had stood back of her
in line the day before.

“Oh, pardon me, *please*!” exclaimed the boy.
“I had no business to do that. I knocked your
purse out of your hand and everything!” Stooping
to pick up Betty’s purse and scattered notes
and slips, he added “I believe you were standing
in line just ahead of me yesterday. Did you get
all fixed up?”

“Yes; and I’m just finding my class rooms
now.”

“That’s fine. You’re not from one of our
schools–at least I couldn’t help seeing that the
envelope you had didn’t have a city address.”

“No; we just moved here and everything is
new.”

“Well, I hope you like it. This is a great
school.”

“Oh, isn’t it! I suppose you’re a senior and
know all about everything.”

The boy laughed. “Not exactly ‘everything,’”
said he, “and I’m a junior. I hope I meet you
again, but not to pretty nearly knock you over.”

“Oh, that was all right,” replied Betty. “You
didn’t hurt me any.”

The boy started on, then stopped. “By the
way, where are you living?”

Betty named the suburb and the street.

“I thought I saw you on the car yesterday. I
live out that way, too, and maybe I’ll come
around some time–that is, if it’s all right.”

“We should be glad to get acquainted,” said
Betty, who felt sure that she could safely be
friendly with this kind of a boy, who had looked
so distressed at the results of his haste and
had clutched her just in time to keep her from
falling. “We don’t know much of anybody yet,
for Mother and Father came down in a hurry
to find a house.”

“Oh, there’s the girl I was hurrying to catch,”
suddenly said the boy called Ted, as a girl came
from the direction from which Betty had been
coming. “Louise, come here and meet one of
the new freshmen. Probably I’d better know
your name, if I am to introduce you. Mine is
Ted Dorrance.”

“I am Betty Lee,” smiled Betty, looking up
at a tall, handsome girl whom she remembered to
have noticed before in the hall and whom she
found to be Louise Madison.

“Lou has a lot to do with one of the school
clubs and is always looking for good material,”
joked Ted. “I had my eye on this young lady
for you yesterday. Any relation to Robert E.
Lee?”

Betty shook her head. “We’re from the New
England Lees, but I suppose back in England
the two families were connected.”

“Well, the name Lee won’t hurt you any with
the Southern families in this town, and there
are a good many of them. But we’re keeping
you and I’ve got to see you, Lou, about a matter
of business.”

“All right,” said the older girl. “I’ll see you
again, Betty, and I’m real glad to have met
you.”

That was interesting, thought Betty, as she
climbed the same stairs down which Ted Dorrance
had been running. Louise Madison must
be a wonderful girl. She seemed to be perfectly
at home–perhaps she was a senior. Betty
wondered what sort of a club it could be that
freshmen could join. Louise had passed her a
few moments before Ted had come dashing
down. She must have finished whatever errand
she had and started back very soon. Well, she
now knew two pupils in this school, but not a
freshman!

This time Betty was ready at twelve-thirty to
start home with the rest. She just made the
same street-car with Dick and Doris and listened
to their accounts on the way home. Like Betty,
Doris did not know any one in her class, though
Doris said that they “smiled at each other;” but
Dick knew several of the boys and had found
out all sorts of facts, particularly those relating
to athletics. “There was a bunch of us talking
together,” said he, “and we’re going to have
some great gym work and everything. The
eighth grade boys said that they have great
games at Lyon High School. Did you take in
the size of that stadium, Betty? And a fellow
they called Joe said that he helped with a stunt
the junior high had at the faculty and senior
basketball game last winter. That’s a sort of
funny affair and the senior team usually beats,
though when the athletic teachers play with the
rest of the faculty it isn’t so dead easy, I guess,
from what they said. But first they have a sort
of athletic or gym show. I’d like to be on it.”

“Yes, and break your neck,” remarked Doris
with sisterly lack of being impressed.

“Never you mind. The girls do something or
other, too. Maybe you’ll *have* to, so far as I
know.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, I’ll never do a thing!
Couldn’t you get excused, Betty?”

“Don’t worry, Doris. It isn’t likely that
you’d have to do anything too hard for you.
And there’s always Mother, and Father, to decide
what is best for us.”

“But they always stand by anything school
does.”

“Of course, because there’s never anything
out of the way. But they wouldn’t let anything
happen to us if there *were* anything that wasn’t
fair or right. Gracious me, if I hadn’t anything
more to worry about than what may happen
next *winter* I’d be thankful. What are your
teachers like?”

That started the children on a new track and
Betty had amusing and detailed descriptions of
what had happened and what this teacher and
another were like. Doris was in a home room
for girls and Dick in one for boys. “There are
a great many of us boys,” said Dick with much
dignity. “I don’t know just how many but I
shall find out. Then when you write to Janet,
be sure to have her tell Bill.”

“Can’t you write to Bill yourself?”

“I don’t like to write letters,” calmly replied
Dick. “Besides, Bill might think I was getting
stuck up telling him such big stories as I’d have
to tell.”

“And I suppose Janet won’t think *I’m* stuck
up?”

“Janet will think that everything you do is
perfect, just as she always has.”

“That is news to me, Dick. Why we’ve had
some of the most–well, *disagreeing* arguments
over things that you ever heard of.”

“Of course. Janet has a mind of her own.
But all the same you needn’t worry over what
Janet would think. I know. Bill’s told me.”

“Then you think I’d dare write Janet everything
about Lyon High, do you? Of course, I’m
going to risk it, Dickie, anyway. And I think
it was nice of Bill to tell you that.”

“Oh, Bill didn’t do it to be nice. He thought
Janet was silly.”

This was not so flattering, but Betty laughed.
She had brought it out herself.

CHAPTER V: JANET HEARS FROM BETTY
=================================

“Hello, hello; that you, Sue?”

“Yes–Janet?”

“Nobody else. Going to be at home for a
while?”

“Yes; can you come over?”

“That is what I’d like to do, for what do you
think?”

“Anything exciting going on?”

“Not exactly, but I’ve a letter from Betty Lee
at last!”

“Oh, then you will bring it over with you,
won’t you?”

“Of course. That’s what I’m coming for,
although we might just as well make plans for
the Sunday-school picnic while I’m over. This
is a real good long letter. I thought she’d never
write as she promised, to tell me about everything.
I’d almost begun to thing Betty *had* forgotten
us! But she hasn’t, at least she says
she hasn’t, and she’s been so busy, of course,
and everything new. She wrote this at several
different times. But there, I’d better let her
letter speak for itself. She said to tell you all
the news, and sent you her love and everything,
so I’ll just let you read all of it, even the more
or less private part if you want to. I’ll not
get to your house for a little while, for I have
to go down street for Mother first. She has
to have some soap and starch and other groceries.
She’s been doing up something extra.
But I thought I’d better call you up to see if
you’d be there.”

In due season Janet Light appeared at the
home of her friend, where the two girls repaired
to the big swing in the back yard. There an old
apple tree spread wide branches over them and
let the sunshine of late September come through
its leaves in fitful fashion, dancing with their
shadows on and about the slightly swaying lassies.
It was Saturday morning, hence their leisure
after early morning tasks were over.

“And see what I have to show you,” said
Janet, drawing from the envelope the letter and
something with it that fell on the floor of the
swing, almost going through its slats.

“Oh, a new picture of Betty!” exclaimed Sue,
reaching down carefully to pick up the unmounted
photograph, a small one. “Isn’t that
cute? And it’s good of Betty, too. Why, it
doesn’t look like a snap-shot.” Sue turned it
over to examine it.

“It isn’t. It was taken at some shop. Betty
tells about it in the letter.”

“That’s Betty’s smile, and what a good light
on her hair. Betty’s hair is a real gold, just like
what you read about in books. I always wished
I had hair like Betty’s. And I never saw such
dark blue eyes as Betty has. They look straight
at you here. I think Betty is a real pretty girl,
don’t you?”

“Yes, but she’s no doll. And I think Betty’s
‘gold’ on the inside, too. That letter didn’t
sound as if she’d forgotten us this soon. Read it.”
Janet held out the thick packet of folded sheets.

“Oh, you read it to me. It will sound twice as
well in your ‘mellifluous’ tones. Kate had to put
‘mellifluous’ in a sentence at school yesterday.”

Janet laughed. “I may leave out the messages
to me, then, but I’ll read it if you want
me to. Thank fortune, Betty writes so a body
can read it. And she says that we simply must
come down to see her at the Thanksgiving vacation.
I can’t wait to *read* you that. Her mother
says so, too, she wrote. Do you suppose we
could? I haven’t said anything to Mother yet.”

“Wouldn’t it be *wonderful*? But–clothes and
everything–I’m afraid not.”

“We have as good things as Betty has.”

“I haven’t anything that would do to travel
in, though, and I’m afraid I can’t have a new
winter coat. My old one’s a sight!”

“Why it looked good enough to me last winter.
But listen now. I’ll begin.”

“Dear Janet,” the letter commenced. “I’ll
have to begin with apologies, of course, and I’m
hoping that you’ve received the two picture post
cards I sent. I meant to send some to all the
girls and haven’t. But honestly, I’ve been so
busy and it’s all been so mixy, if you know what
I mean by that, that I just haven’t gotten at
a letter that would give you any idea of how
things are. It looks sort of hopeless now, to
tell the truth, but I’m going to start in anyhow,
even if I have to write at several different
times. The longer I put it off the more there
will be to tell. You haven’t any idea how much
I’ve missed you and how I’ve almost started to
tell you things; that is, I’d think ‘I must tell
Janet that,’ and then I’d think again that you
weren’t anywhere around!

“Talk about being lonesome! Of course I’ve
had the family, but not a single girl at first. I
have several friends now that I know more or
less, but nobody that takes the place of the girls
at home. You see I still call it home. I’m not
sure that the city will ever seem like home, but
it is very interesting and the place where we
live is ever so nice. It is all on one floor, which
makes it easy for Mother, and we have enough
room, though we wouldn’t have if we hadn’t gotten
rid of so much stuff before we moved. Still,
there is a little room on the third floor where
we can store some things, like our trunks and
boxes. Mother likes it, though she has been
lonesome, too, for all the friends. But of course
Mother and Father used to live in a city, so it
doesn’t seem so strange to them. Two people
live on the floor above us, but there is a separate
entrance and stairs and everything separate in
the basement.

“There is a good church near enough to walk
to it and Mother has been to some of the missionary
meetings and suppers and all, and we
have, too–to the suppers! So Mother and
Father are beginning to be acquainted. I’m in
a Sunday school class, but I haven’t had time
to go to anything besides just Sunday morning,
for there are too many lessons and school
things that take my time. I just have to get a
good start. But I’ll have time pretty soon. The
class has monthly meetings. They wanted me
to be in some kind of a pageant, but Mother said
I’d better not try it, for I wouldn’t have time to
practice.

“And now about the school. Honestly, girls,
I don’t know where to begin. Not all the high
schools are as fine as ours, for ours isn’t as
old as some of them and Father says it is modern
in every respect. They are so crowded
that they simply have to build new schools,
which Father says is a good thing. In some old
schools they’ve been actually heating with
stoves, not even a furnace. So Father said.

“Well, the building is big and the grounds
are gorgeous, full of beautiful trees and shrubbery.
I’m no architect, so I can’t tell you about
the building except that it spreads out and up
three stories, besides the basement floor, and
Mother says we need wings! The basement
floor isn’t under the ground or anything, and
all the freshmen have their lockers there. We
put our wraps and books there when we do not
need them and get them out when we do. We
have a ‘home room’ and a teacher in charge of
it, and we go there the first thing in the morning
and the last thing before we go home. She
tells us things, the teacher, I mean. Some days
we don’t do the same things. Sometimes we go
to the ‘auditorium’ and hear somebody speak,
or something happens there, but not much yet.

“At first I simply felt lost. Just imagine.
Girls, there are *twenty-eight hundred boys and
girls* that attend our high school and I don’t
think that counts the pupils in the junior high.
That is *more than half as many people* as are
in our home town!

“Dick and Doris are very much set up over
being in a ‘junior high school’–though I don’t
mean that unkindly. But they think it as wonderful
as possible and like their teachers. Dick
is more interested in athletics than he is in his
lessons and Father has to keep him at his lessons
a while in the evenings after he has been
outdoors enough, as Father thinks. Doris is
working away to make good grades. She has
her eye on things that the other girls do and
wear but that is only natural, and I imagine
that we need all the good advice Father and
Mother give us. Mother says not to join anything
until we get a good start in our lessons
and learn more about living here. Oh, yes, I
was to send some message to Billy, but I told
Dick he could just as well write himself, and
it may be possible that Billy will hear from
him, though I couldn’t say positively. You know
how much the boys like to write!

“By the way, I’m putting in a little picture
of myself. Mother let me go down town with,
one of the girls that lives not so very far from
us; at least we take the same street car home
from school. So we went down one day right
after school. She invited me, and took me to
a real good moving picture, and we stopped in
at a cute little place where they take cheap
photographs. We also had a grand sundae at
a wonderful place and came home not a bit
hungry for dinner. And that makes me think–we
have dinner at night, for Father can’t come
home very well, it is so far, and has a noon
lunch down town. We children have one at
school, and my, what grand lunches we do have!
They give it to us at about what it costs, so it
doesn’t quite break us up to buy it, enough for
the time we have to eat it. But everything,
street-car fare and all, costs more in a city.
Father drives us to school, mostly, and then
goes on down to his business.

“I think that I shall have to stop, though I’ve
been scribbling as fast as I could, and I believe
I’ll just send this right off, though I’m not half
through with all there is to tell. I’ll try to write
something about the folks we have met when
I write again. More things will have happened,
too, I suppose, but I’ve got to stop now. Give
Sue my love and now I want you both to plan
to come here for your Thanksgiving vacation.
Mother invites you, too. She said it would do
me good to see some of you. Auntie can’t come
for she’s going to some family reunion or other,
and we can make room for you. Please try to
do it!”

But the letter was not finished with this. A
dash and a new date began the next part in
which Betty said that since she had been interrupted
she might as well add something more
to her “book” she was writing to Janet. There
followed more details with a comical
description of “her trip down in charge of the family,”
her arriving to find no one, and the “time she
had the first day of school.”

The “private messages” to Janet were only
some loving remarks with which she closed and
those Janet let Sue read herself.

“I’m sure she does miss you, Janet, just as I
have missed my cousin Moira. I don’t see why
Uncle had to move ’way out to California. I’m
afraid I never *will* see her again.”

“Oh, yes you will–and wouldn’t it be a great
place to go to visit her?”

“Y-yes, if I ever could. I’m glad I have you
left, Janet. I know why you and Betty have
liked each other so much. You’re both so cheerful
and stout-hearted some way.”

“Why, whatever made you think that?” asked
Janet, surprised.

“Mother said that about Betty, and I’ve noticed
it about you, only I hadn’t put it into
those words.”

“It’s very nice of you to think it about me.
I’m just as glad to have you, Sue, and we’d
better see a great deal of each other, just as we
have since Betty left. And if Mrs. Lee herself
invites us to come, let’s try as hard as we can
to go to visit Betty at Thanksgiving. We’d not
need much in the clothes line for such a few
days, our school dress and our Sunday dress,
a change of underclothing, I suppose, and our
wraps. *Betty* would never be ashamed of us
if we didn’t have new and stylish hats and coats.”

“I believe Betty did say that her old coat
would have to do this winter, though I’m not
sure. Perhaps it was you that mentioned it.
Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll go if I can, Janet,
and be sure to give Betty my love when you
write to her. I hope she’ll write to me.”

“Oh, she will, Sue. Of course Betty will, if
she is inviting you. But you can see what a rush
she’s in. It must take a lot of time just to get
to places on the street cars. Mother said it
would take over half an hour to get down town
from some of the suburbs. And maybe it’s
more than that. I believe I’d rather live here,
where you can walk to church and school and to
the groceries and picture show and everything.”

“I can imagine that Betty *is* pretty lonesome
sometimes,” added Sue, gravely looking at the
letter which she still held. “But it seems just
like a nice adventure that you read about, and
if we can go, we’ll have a share in some of it.”

CHAPTER VI: FRIENDS AND FUN
===========================

Had Betty Lee imagined any faintly romantic
attraction to her dainty self on the part
of Ted Dorrance, she would have been disappointed
during these first weeks in the new
school. He always spoke when they met in the
halls provided he saw her; but he was usually
with other boys and very much engrossed in
whatever he was discussing with them. Hurrying
crowds on the way to classes had little interest
for Betty as well. She, too, was absorbed
by the busy and interesting life, and soon had
friends among the girls in her classes.

Betty, though friendly, was by nature not inclined
to make close friends immediately. But
girls that recite together and have the same lessons
will find much in common. Betty’s good
recitations and her hand that went up often to
answer the questions of different teachers were
sufficient introduction to her classmates, who
heard her name, as she heard theirs, when she
was called upon to recite. She cheerfully lent
a pencil or pen for a moment, or answered some
question before class about the lesson, or sat
upon her desk, opposite some similarly perched
girl, to chat about coming events. There were
“hundreds of freshmen” and that literally; but
they resolved themselves into the comparative
few with whom she recited in her different
classes.

Long before the Thanksgiving visit, which she
anticipated from her old home chum, she was
accustomed to school and work and thoroughly
liked many of the girls, especially a few who
were “very chummy” with her, she told her
mother, and sat with her at lunch, or waited for
her after class, or planned their work or recreation
together.

Louise Madison, she found to be a senior,
president of the Girls’ Athletic Club, a large
association, indeed, consisting of all the girls
who “went in” for athletics. A certain amount
of gym work was required, but one could take
more, to be sure. Yet Betty’s parents were a
little hesitant just yet; and not knowing the
wisdom of the teachers in charge, preferred that
Betty wait a little, except in swimming, which
her father said she ought to know as well as
possible, so that she could “swim to Europe”
in case something happened to the ship before it
reached port.

At that remark, soberly delivered, the family
had laughed, but Doris asked in good earnest,
“When are we going, Papa?”

“Aw, Dodie,” said Dick, “can’t you tell a joke
when you hear one?”

“Well, we probably *shall* go some day,” airily
said Doris, provoked at herself for having
spoken too soon, and none too well pleased with
her twin. “You think you’re very smart!”

“Doris,” quietly said her mother with a reproving
shake of her head, and trouble was
avoided.

The freshman to whom Betty was most attracted,
and that very soon, was Carolyn
Gwynne, a bright, warm-hearted, generous girl,
alive to everything and enthusiastic about many
things, yet with a certain poise that Betty decided
was due to the fact that she had always
lived in the city. Her pretty brown head often
bobbed along by Betty’s fair one and her face
was alight with various expressions as she told
Betty “all she knew and more,” as she herself
said.

“Everybody likes Carolyn,” said Peggy Pollard,
who had seen the grades through with
Carolyn. “It’s because Carolyn goes out of
her way to do things for people. She has a
lovely family, too, and that makes a difference,
don’t you think, Betty?”

“Oh, yes. Wouldn’t it be terrible not to be
happy at home?”

“It certainly would.”

Peggy herself was a “darling girl,” Betty
thought, prettily plump, like Carolyn, though
shorter than either Carolyn or Betty. Her locks
that fell around her shoulders just now, being
allowed to grow and variously trained on different
days, were of that dark brown red that
belongs with what seems to be the same color
of eyes and a pinky complexion. But Peggy
did not go without a hat as much as the other
girls, since freckles “were one thing she wasn’t
going to have!” If she could only *tan* decently
now! “You have a dimple on one cheek, Betty
Lee,” said Peggy, “and Carolyn has one on the
other. Those cheeks ought to be on one person!”

“Oh, aren’t you funny, Peggy Pollard!”
exclaimed Betty. “Carolyn’s cheek added to my
cheek,”–then they both laughed, thinking of
another meaning for “cheek.” They were in a
mood for silliness anyhow, Peggy said, for they
were on their way to the auditorium for a “pep”
meeting. The occasion, of course, was fall foot,
ball. Enthusiasm must be aroused for the
“Lions,” soon to fight their first battles on the
gridirons of various schools in the city and
suburbs. But Betty did have two dimples.

In common with the rest of the scholars of
Lyon High, Betty and her friends were delighted
to have an auditorium session, not only
for what usually went on, but for the cutting of
recitation hours!

“Carolyn’s going to have a garden party,
Betty,” Peggy continued. “Has she told you
about it?”

“No–I hope I’ll be invited, though,” laughed
Betty, climbing the stairs now for the recitation
room and her freshman locker, just secured in
the last few days. “My, isn’t it nice not to have
to carry your books around any more!”

“Yes,” and Peggy slid her hand up along
the brass railing of the stairs. “But I imagine
Carolyn just decided about it last night. All
their fall flowers are so beautiful now. They
have a wonderful big place, you know. Have
you anything else to do Saturday?”

“No, only some shopping down town with
Mother. I could put that off. She has a lot
of things to do for Dick and Doris.”

“You might get your shopping done in the
morning, perhaps. I’ll tell you what cars to
take, though it might be that Carolyn could
come for you, or somebody call for you in their
car.”

“Oh, I could get there, I think, if it is not too
far from the car line. I’m getting used to going
around now.”

“It isn’t so easy sometimes, even for those of
us that have always lived here, and our fathers
and mothers like to be careful of us, of course.”

“Will there be a large party? I might meet
some of the girls somewhere, wherever you have
to change cars.”

“Yes, probably you could. Why, I think that
there will be all our crowd and some others we
don’t see so much of, real nice girls, you know.”

Betty was glad to be included in “our crowd,”
but there was no further opportunity for conversation.
Boys and girls were pouring into
the different entrances of the auditorium, seeking
their regular seats, which had been assigned.

“Oh, look!” exclaimed Peggy. “We’re going
to have the band! Say, don’t they look fine in
their uniforms? Well, ’bye–sorry I can’t sit
by you.”

The high school band did look resplendent.
As Betty took her seat they struck up a lively
popular air and played it through while the
school was assembling. They were on the platform,
where the principal stood beside a chair,
probably thinking that his presence would have
more effect if he stood. And the presence of
the dignified principal always did have a calming
effect. No nonsense or disrespect was ever
shown to him, for the very good reason that he
would not tolerate it. A school of this size,
and a city school, with its variety of composition,
called for no weakness in the men and
women who had charge of its discipline, though
in this school all due consideration was given to
the rights and needs of its pupils.

It was a pretty scene. Betty was glad that
she sat on the end of one row of seats, for she
could see so much better. Eagerly she leaned
forward, not to miss any part of scene or action.
But before they were seated, they all turned as
usual, at the signal from the principal, to salute
the flag, whose bright stripes and stars showed
at the principal’s right. Already the pupils
were trained to say in excellent unison the
phrases which pledged them to the flag of their
country and that “for which it stands.” Together
they made the right gestures at the right
time and Betty had not gotten over feeling
thrilled to be a part of so great a company, or
over the patriotic tie that made them one.

Carolyn sat not far away, in front of Betty,
and as soon as they were seated she leaned back
to nod at Betty and form with her lips the
words, “I want to see you after this.”

Betty nodded her understanding. She *was*
going to be invited to the garden party, she
thought. But what was the principal saying?
He sat down, after making a few announcements
and handing the conduct of the meeting over
to some boy, whom Betty supposed the president
of the Boys’ Athletic Association, though
she had not caught the last words of the principal.
The program was not so different from
that of the meetings which Betty had attended
in the little school at home, when there was a
general gathering in honor of athletics, but oh,
how much bigger everything was.

The band was several times as large, and how
well they played! It must be something to learn
to play in a city where there is a symphony
orchestra, Betty thought. Ambition stirred.
She just *must* belong to one of the musical organizations
of the school, some time if not now!

Now the yell leader performed, leading the
school in different yells for the team and school.
Betty’s face was one wide smile. These were
new and funny yells. The team had to come
forward and some speeches where made. Some
of the boys were shy and awkward; others, used
to it, said their say with greater freedom. Some
funny expressions were used. Betty thought of
how they must grate on the ears of her strict
English teacher who had been particularly
severe in regard to slang at their last recitation.
What would she say if she heard some of the
things that Betty had been surprised to hear
girls say, girls that seemed to be nice and were
undoubtedly attractive? Such girls in the village
at home were not welcomed to intimate
friendship and as a rule belonged to a class
careless and unrefined at home.

Little thoughts like these ran through Betty’s
young head as she applauded with the rest and
tried the yells, such fun to say; though she did
not know some of them. But they were easy to
get, “crazy” as they were. But the wilder the
better, when it comes to athletics, or so the
modern rooters seem to think. The band indulged
in funny little crashes at quick signals
from the yell leader. Betty, with one eye on
the principal, saw him smile occasionally. All
this was allowed; but, after all, it was an
orderly performance, if wildly enthusiastic.
“My, they all know how to do it, don’t they?”
she said to Carolyn, who joined her on their
way from the auditorium.

“Yes, but they wouldn’t I guess if they didn’t
have people in charge that won’t stand for any
nonsense. Got your Latin all out?”

“Yes, though I’m shaky on some of it. It’s
terribly hard for me to memorize. If she didn’t
have us go over it so much I’d never get it.”

“That’s what teachers are for, I suppose,”
laughed Carolyn. “But what I wanted to see
you about was this: I want to have a garden
party while the weather’s nice, so I’m asking
everybody for Saturday–just informal
invitations, you know, not the way my big sister
does when *she* gives a party! Can you come?
We’ll have a picnic dinner outdoors, unless the
weather does something awful. But it’s pretty
dry and I don’t believe it will rain. We had
such a lot of rain last week and our flowers are
so pretty now. Please come.”

“Why, I’d just love to, Carolyn, and I think
it’s nice of you to ask me. I don’t know of any
reason why I can’t come. I’ll ask Mother tonight
and let you know *sure* tomorrow. It’s
practically sure, though, because I can do what
I like Saturday afternoon.”

“All right, Betty. I’ll expect you. I’ll give
you the address and tell you how to get there
when I have time.”

The girls hurried along with the rest of the
crowds going to recitation rooms. It must be
said that Betty’s mind wandered a little occasionally,
whenever it was safe to let it wander,
from the subjects of the lessons to the delightful
prospect of next Saturday. This was the first
of the week. What should she wear? She did not
like to ask Carolyn, but perhaps she could
manage to bring up the subject with Peggy, or
some of the other girls, when she knew who
were invited. Suppose there should be some
freshman boys. Peggy hadn’t said and neither
had Carolyn.

That afternoon, after school, Betty rushed
into the house with her books for night study
and deposited them on the table with a slight
thud. Her eyes were alight and the “one
dimple” was much in evidence. “Mother, I’m
invited to a garden party! It’s at Carolyn’s
on Saturday afternoon and they’re going to
have a picnic dinner outdoors. Can I go? *May*
I go, I mean?”

“I shall certainly want to say yes, if you want
to go, as I judge you do.” Mrs. Lee was smiling,
too, as she looked at her glowing young daughter.
She folded a garment she had been mending
and laid it aside. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, you know who Carolyn is, don’t you?”

“I ought to by this time,” and Mrs. Lee’s eyes
twinkled. “It occurs to me that I have heard
you mention her before.”

Betty laughed. “I suppose I *have* raved
about Carolyn. But she is the dearest thing.”

“I am sure that it is a perfectly proper friendship,
Betty,” assented Betty’s mother. “The
Gwynne place has been mentioned more than
once in the paper and I read of a large garden
party given there by Carolyn’s mother, about
two weeks ago, I think.”

“Oh, was that the gorgeous place that had
the pictures of it in the Sunday paper?” Betty
looked a little dismayed. “Why, they must be
very stylish and wealthy folks–but Carolyn
likes me–I know she does.”

“To be stylish and wealthy, my dear, does not
always make people snobs, and there are other
assets that they may recognize in other people,
too. If you and Carolyn are congenial, there
is no reason why there should not be a pleasant
friendship between you, at least now.”

Betty looked thoughtful. “You mean that
after a while their way of living might make a
difference and that Carolyn would have different
friends!”

“Perhaps. I don’t know, Betty. Separation
sometimes makes it impossible to keep in touch.
But don’t let me start unhappy thoughts about
this. I shall do everything I can to let you
have friends and a happy time. You always
have; why not here in the city? Just so you
have none that will hurt you. But you are not
likely to choose that kind, I think. Please
remember, Betty, that you can’t touch coal without
getting black.”

“But you ought to be friendly with everybody,
oughtn’t you?”

“Certainly, so far as being kind–but let the
older folks do the reforming, Betty. Well, all
this about one innocent party? What should
you wear, Betty?”

“Just what I was going to ask you! But I’ll
find out from Peggy. They are going to play
tennis and things. I wish I had a real ‘sport
costume,’ for I don’t suppose they’ll wear
‘party dresses’ to an outdoor party like this.”

“Perhaps we can fix something up, Betty.
If you only hadn’t outgrown everything so! We
can’t afford new clothes right now, after all
our moving and what we have had to buy to fix
up this place. And social prominence does not
enter into our plans right at present.” Mrs.
Lee smiled at Betty, who was sitting in a low
chair now with her hands folded on her knees.

“It never does,” laughed Betty, “but you
usually can’t help having it. I should think it
would be a rest not to be president of a club or
responsible for church things. Nevertheless,
Mother, don’t hide your light under a bushel!”

With this advice, Betty jumped up to run out
into the kitchen and pantry, for investigation
of the cooky jar. Crumbs about showed that
Doris or Dick had been there before her, and
she heard Amy Lou’s childish laughter coming
from the back yard. But Betty’s lessons were
hard for the next day and she returned to the
living room to take one of her texts back to her
room and study a while by herself.

CHAPTER VII: CAROLYN’S GARDEN PARTY
===================================

The rest of the week went by in pleasant
anticipation of the garden party, Betty’s first.
To be sure there had been “loads of picnics,”
and lawn fetes for the church, usually in the
spring or early summer. But a real “garden
party” *must* be different. There was much consultation
about clothes between Betty and her
mother. One of the girls had said that of course
one wouldn’t wear her *old* clothes, or her Girl
Scout or Camp Fire Girl suits, as you would
on a picnic to the woods. *She* was going to
play tennis, and her mother had gotten her an
“*awfully pretty*” white sport suit!

Well, what *was* a sport suit anyhow? Mrs.
Lee took Amy Lou down town, one morning
when Mr. Lee could drive them down, and spent
a rather trying morning trying to shop with a
child. She looked at dresses and patterns, with
a view of fitting Betty suitably for the occasion.
But the new things were expensive. Finally,
by letting down a skirt Betty had and arranging
a suitable blouse, or upper part, what Betty
called a “near-sport” frock was evolved.

Then, after all the effort, Betty came home
one afternoon with a new idea. “Mother, it’s
turned so awfully hot–Indian summer, I suppose–that
Peggy says she isn’t going to play
tennis or anything on a court, and she’s going
to wear her light green flat crepe that is her
second best, or else some real cool summer
dress, whatever happens to be ready. Peggy
doesn’t care! I believe I’ll just wear my pretty
thin blue and let it go at that. I don’t want
to play tennis either, especially when I don’t
know anybody much and not so very many can
play. Carolyn says she’s going to pay all her
social debts at once and have a big party, so
I’ll be lost in the multitude.”

Like Janet, Mrs. Lee privately thought that
Betty would never be “lost in the multitude,”
but she did not say so. “So Carolyn is paying
all her ‘social debts,’ is she?” asked Betty’s
mother, amused at the “social debts” expression.
“It is just as well that you have decided
on the blue. It will look pretty in the gardens
and *I’d* dress for the flowers instead of the
tennis court.”

“Aren’t you poetic, Mother! It’s a shame
that you went to all the trouble about the other
dress, though.”

“That will be so much clear gain, child. You
now have another frock, which will come in for
service at some time, no doubt.”

When the day and the hour arrived, Betty’s
father arrived home late for lunch, as he could
do on Saturday, unless there were some executive
meeting. That settled the question of how
to get to the party, and Betty called up two of
her friends to say that her father was going to
take her and that she would stop for them if
they liked. Naturally they were glad of the
opportunity, for the Gwynne estate was out at
some distance, *almost* a “country estate,” Peggy
had said. “Call up,” said Betty’s father, “when
you want to come home, or rather, when I
should start from home in time to reach you.
We’ll take note of the time we spend getting
there. Then I’ll bring a machine full of whomever
you like.”

“Oh, that is so good of you, Mr. Lee!” exclaimed
Dotty Bradshaw, one of the freshman
girls whom Betty had invited to ride with them.
“But perhaps Betty will want somebody else,
though,” added Dotty, happening to think that
perhaps she was taking too much, for granted.

“Why, Dotty, of *course* if we call for you
we’ll see you back home. We’re sort of new
to the city, though, so perhaps you can tell me
who live places that wouldn’t be too far away.”

“Most anybody that attends our high school
would be all right,” answered Dotty, “because
girls that live in other parts of town would go
to other high schools.”

“Of course! I didn’t think!”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Selma
Rardon, the other freshman in the car. “There
are sometimes people way out, like Carolyn herself.”

Betty was already assured by the very different
dresses of the girls with her, and when
she arrived at the beautiful place where Carolyn
lived she thought how silly she had been to worry
about clothes. Still, you wanted to be suitably
dressed, and when you knew hardly anybody,
there was some excuse. And oh, there *were*
boys, too. She saw a number of lads whose
faces she knew by having seen them in the
different freshman classes. Then there were
others whom she did not know at all. By the
time Betty and her friends turned into the drive
which led to the house, most of the boys and
girls had arrived, it seemed and were dotted
in groups all over the closely clipped lawn which
still looked like velvet between its flower beds
and shrubbery. Oh, wasn’t it beautiful? Betty
was so glad that her father could see where
the party was.

“I was afraid you weren’t coming at all,
Betty,” said Carolyn, squeezing Betty’s hands,
“but there are still a few that haven’t gotten
here.”

“I waited for Father to bring us,” replied
Betty, “and we didn’t quite know how long it
would take to drive out.”

“Well, you’re here now and I’m going to ask
Peggy to see that you meet everybody. I’ll
have to be darting here and there and everywhere
to see that they all have something to
do.”

Carolyn looked so pretty, Betty thought, and
she wore the simplest of summer dresses, to
all appearances, though the material was fine
and sheer, a sort of chiffon, Betty thought; for
Betty was just becoming aware of styles and
materials, matters which she had left to her
mother, and most wisely.

There was the usual tendency of the girls and
boys to separate into groups of boys and groups
of girls, but Carolyn had announced that first
they would stroll to see the flowers and go to
the pool and the greenhouse and that each boy
must join some girls, not necessarily *one* girl.
In consequence the groups were mixed by the
time Betty and her friends began their stroll
around the grounds and Peggy took Betty into
the midst of one. Dotty Bradshaw accompanied
them, though Selma had been drawn away by
one of her special friends. Dotty was “cute,”
Peggy said.

Here were Mary Emma Howland and Mary
Jane Andrews, the two Marys of Betty’s
algebra class. Then Chet Dorrance, whom Betty
afterward found to be Ted’s brother, was feeding
the goldfishes in the lovely pool from a box
of something held by Kathryn Allen. Budd LeRoy
perched on the stone arm of a seat that
curved artistically in grey lines, back a little
from the pool, and talked spasmodically to
Chauncey Allen, Kathryn’s brother, and Brad
Warren. Budd, Chauncey and Bradford were
not freshmen, Betty thought, but she wasn’t
sure. Who *could* be sure about all the freshmen
there were? Chet Dorrance looked a good deal
like his brother, though his hair was lighter and
Betty decided that he didn’t look quite so smart,
but not many of the boys could touch Ted for
looks.

The boys all wore coats, though she knew that
some of them, at least, would have felt more
comfortable without them, as she had seen them
Friday at school. Later on, however, when
games and sports began, many a coat was to
be found hung on the back of a garden bench
or over the slats of a trellis. Carolyn may
have given the word. Betty did not know. She
usually kept her eye out for what boys did, on
account of Dick, whose social etiquette she
helped superintend, little as she knew herself.
Between three and four o’clock it was very
warm indeed. Later it began to cool off and
seem like early October.

“Isn’t this the loveliest place?” she said to
Chauncey Allen, by way of making conversation.
After introducing Chauncey to Betty, Peggy
had darted off to start Budd and Bradford in
tennis, about which they had inquired. Chet
Dorrance and Kathryn Allen had finished feeding
the goldfish and sauntered to the big stone
seat, where Chauncey suggested that he and
Betty also sit. Kathryn was a pretty, slight
little girl with an olive complexion, very black
hair and dark eyes. Chauncey was as dark in
his coloring but was of a much larger build.

“Pretty nice,” replied Chauncey. “They’ve
got fine gardens and a good tennis court, that
much is certain; but their house is pretty old.”

“But it looks so–distinguished,” said Betty.
“Those big pillars and the wide porch and the
drive with that sort of porch built over it–I
never can remember the name for it.”

“You can’t prove it by me,” grinned Chauncey.
“I don’t know either, although we have
one. Yes, the Gwynne place is considered a
fine old estate, so my dad says. Mother says
she wouldn’t have it for it isn’t modern enough
to suit her. She doesn’t like high ceilings and
great rooms that are hard to heat in winter.”

“Oh, I *love* them,” cried Betty, “though maybe
it’s because I never have to bother about
furnaces and things like that. I’d just love to
have a great house and big grounds like this.”

“Where do you live?” asked Chauncey.

“In an apartment. My father’s just come to
the city this fall and we took the best place
Mother could find. We still have a home in my
home town, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever go
back there to stay.”

“Would you like to?”

Betty shook her head negatively. “I’m thrilled
to death to be in our big high school!”

Chauncey grinned pleasantly. “It is pretty
good,” he acknowledged, “but I hate to study
sometimes. I hope football will go all right
for our team this year. There’s one of the big
high schools that is our greatest rival, and O,
boy–if we don’t beat them this year!”

Betty had not heard about that, but she
loyally echoed Chauncey’s wish.

“How about going up to the house for that
fruitade Carolyn said would be ready pretty
soon?” asked Chauncey, including the group, for
two other girls had come up to the pool and
were now joining Kathryn and Chet.

The suggestion was promptly acted upon and
Betty now found herself walking between tall
pampas grass and well trimmed bushes of all
sorts along a path to the house and talking to
Chet Dorrance, who asked her if she had bought
her season ticket for football yet.

“No, I haven’t. Are you selling them?”

“No, but Ted is.”

“I’m awfully sorry, but Carolyn told me that
if I hadn’t promised, one of the girls wanted to
sell me one, so I promised.”

“Oh, that’s all right. It was probably one
of the girls on a pep squad.”

“What’s a pep squad?” laughed Betty. “That
must be one of the things that I haven’t heard
about yet.”

“You’ll hear a lot about it, then. Why, they
have them in the G. A. A., girls that talk it all
up and make ‘enthusiasm’ and support the athletics,
you know.”

“What is the G. A. A., please? I must be terribly
dense, but remember all the things I’ve
tried to take in. You’re not a freshman, are you?”

“Why, no–what makes you think that?”
Chet was privately thinking that there must be
something after all in experience, though as he
was no larger than a very dear freshman friend,
who had been left a little behind in the race for
high school, he had been “insulted” more than
once by being considered a freshman.

“Well, I did think that you were one, since
your brother is a junior”–Betty had almost
said that he looked so much younger than Ted
the tall, but she halted in time. “But you seem
to know all about everything, and even the
freshies who live here don’t always remember
everything.”

“I could get all that from hearing Ted talk,
you know; but of course, there isn’t much about
the school that I haven’t *heard* about–I
wouldn’t say *know*, of course.”

“It must be nice,” said Betty, thereupon
pleasing her escort, who immediately began to
enlighten her upon the workings of the athletic
association and the girls’ share in it. The G.
A. A. was the Girls’ Athletic Association.

“Oh, yes! Of course. I hear them call it a
*club*. I’ve even had it explained to me–but not
the pep squads. I only wish I had time for
everything!”

“You don’t have to do everything your freshman
year, Betty.”

“That is what Father said–so I’m not. But
that doesn’t keep you from wanting to do
things.”

“You’re right it doesn’t!” Chet was thinking
of several things that he had wanted to do and
still wanted.

A great glass bowl just inside the screened
porch on the side of the house away from the
sun, supplied a cool drink of oranges and lemons,
whose slices floated about pieces of ice. A
maid in cap and apron served them and fished
out a whole red cherry to put in Betty’s glass.
And didn’t it taste good!

Then, in the shifting of position and accidental
meetings of this one and that one, Betty
found herself with Mary Emma Howland and
another freshman boy whom she recognized as
the brightest lad in the algebra class. “Oh,
yes,” she said, in answer to Mary Emma’s question
whether or not she knew “Sim,” and
brightly she smiled at him.

“We never were introduced,” said Betty, “but
when you recite every day together you can’t
help but know people, and whenever Mr. Matthews
calls on ‘James Simmonds’ he looks as if
he expected to have a recitation.”

“There, Sim!” laughed Mary Emma. “I told
you you were the teacher’s pet!”

“Much I am!” and James Simmonds looked
as if he did not appreciate being complimented,
even by two merry girls. He was a tall, thin
boy, with light, sandy hair, thin face and light
eyes, but eyes that were keen with intelligence
when they did not twinkle with mischief. “And
I’m usually called ‘Simmonds’ by the men
teachers.”

“So you are,” acknowledged Betty. “But I
didn’t know they called you ‘Sim’–I thought it
was ‘Jim.’”

“I’m generally known as Sim,” said the boy,
“but sometimes it’s ‘Jim’, or ‘Carrotts.’”

Sim exchanged a look with Mary Emma, who
giggled. “Sim’s my fourth or fifth cousin,”
Mary Emma explained. “He lives at our house
to go to school while his father and mother are
away this year.”

As Betty looked inquiringly at Sim, he explained
that his father was an engineer and was
in South America with his mother for the year.
“I’m going there some day,” said he. “Say, they
have mosquitoes and snakes and all sorts of
queer things, and there are some man-eaters
down there, cannibals, you know–oh, it’s a wild
country all right!”

“That doesn’t sound so very good to me,”
smiled Betty. “Do you really want to go where
there are snakes and things like that!”

“Certainly! Mary Emma you bring Betty
Lee out some time and I’ll show her the things
they’ve sent us.”

“We really have some beautiful things from
South America, Betty,” said Mary Emma, and
Betty was thinking how interesting it would be
to see them. My, she was getting acquainted
fast! But just as Mary Emma was beginning
to tell her about a handsome purse that had
come for her mother, Peggy came running out
of the house door and stopped before the porch
bench upon which the three were seated. Peggy
was wearing something funny on her head and
carried something, a straight piece of pasteboard,
in her hand. Large black letters said
something or other.

“Oh, here you are, Betty. I was looking for
you. Carolyn wants you to be one of the social
engineers. We’re going to have games for everybody
on the lawn now and you’ll have to help.
Come on! ’Scuse Betty, please, Mary Emma–and
Sim.”

Betty rose to follow Peggy inside. There
were several girls, all adjusting these
pasteboard caps or hats, that looked like short stove-pipes.
Carolyn was apologizing, though Betty
thought the idea clever. “I didn’t have time,
girls, to make caps, anything pretty, you know,
and I went to a picnic where they had these.
They looked cute and I thought they’d do.”

“Of course they’ll do,” said Peggy, adjusting
the cap to Betty’s head, merely by wrapping
the two ends about and fastening them, top and
bottom, with ordinary clips. So that was what
the big black letters on the plain gray pasteboard
said, “SOCIAL ENGINEER.”

“But Carolyn,” protested Betty, “I don’t
know everybody and how can I be a ‘social engineer’?
I suppose you’re going to have games
to manage?”

“That’s it, and it doesn’t make a bit of difference
whether you know people or not. Your
head-gear makes it perfectly proper to speak to
anybody. I’m sure you’re good at things like
this–from your looks, you know!”

“Thanks for the confidence,” laughed Betty.
“All right, I’ll do the best I can.”

For the next hour the lawn looked pretty with
the groups that played the old-fashioned games
as well as those of a later date. Here were
flowers and shrubbery, light dresses, darting figures,
much laughter and little shrieks in the
midst of excitement, when some one was caught
or some one became “It.” Then tables were
brought out upon the lawn. Carolyn and Peggy
pressed several of the boys into service to help
place them, but after they were set, with silver,
napkins and flowers, a pretty vase in the center
of each table, the “banquet,” as Betty later reported
at home, was served them as perfectly
“as if they were grown up” by persons whom
Betty supposed to be the servants of the house.
Mercy, she would never dare invite Carolyn to
their apartment! And she did *love* Carolyn!

Not that Betty was ashamed of simple living–Betty
was trying to think why she had
such a thought about Carolyn–but that could
be puzzled out later on. The present was too
pleasant for a single disturbing thought. It
was cool now and seemed more like the time of
year it really was. Sunset hues were showing.
And they were to stay till the Japanese lanterns
all about were lit, with some hiding game or
treasure hunt that Carolyn had mentioned to
the “social engineers” as their last effort and
fun. And now, after the pretty ice-cream in the
freshman colors and the delicious cake with the
double frosting, lovely baskets of grapes and
peaches were being passed.

Betty slowly ate the juicy grapes of her
bunch, one by one, as she talked to Peggy on
one side of her, or Chet Dorrance on the other.
One of the junior boys had been “fired,” according
to Chet, for “cutting classes, disorderly conduct
and disrespectful behaviour.” Oh, no, he
couldn’t come back now. His parents had been
over to see the principal and they might get
the “kid” into some other school–Chet did not
know. And Betty was to watch Freddy Fisher
carry the ball at the first football game in the
stadium. “If you go with Carolyn and Peggy,”
said he, “they’ll tell you who everybody is that’s
doing things. You’ve seen ’em all, though,
haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I’ll know them on
the field. I guess I am going with Carolyn and
Peggy.”

“Of course you are,” decidedly remarked
Peggy, who had turned from her other neighbor
in time to hear Betty’s last sentence. “What is
it you’re going to?”

CHAPTER VIII: BETTY HEARS THE LIONS ROAR
========================================

Nothing could have been more appropriate
for exciting athletic affairs than the name which
had been given to this high school in honor of
a distinguished public servant, interested in
education. It scarcely needs to be explained that
the football team of Lyon High was called the
lions, on and off the gridiron, or that posters
and the school paper carried fierce-looking
drawings and cartoons of the King of Beasts
in action. A golden yellow, relieved by black,
in the costumes of the Lyon High band and in
the sweaters of the team was supposed to suggest
the tawny coat of what could “eat up” any
other team in short order. Lions figured largely
in various badges and insignia of all sorts.
Betty Lee had early decided that she must some
day wear one of the pins or rings that bore
the “Lyon High Lion.”

Oh, it was good to stow away books in the
freshman lockers and hurry with the rest of the
big crowd to find seats in the stadium, seats
where one could see everything!

The girls lost little time at their lockers.
“Come on, Betty,” called Carolyn. “I’ve got
some newspapers to sit on. Yes, I should *say*
bring your coat! Your sweater won’t be enough.
I promised Mother to wear a coat and wouldn’t
have needed to promise, either. I don’t care
to freeze myself.”

This was not the first game. That had been
duly played in the home stadium, not so long
after Carolyn’s garden party, and Betty had
felt all the thrills of seeing the great stadium
come to life for the first time in her experience.
After this big school, college could not bring
her more! Yet thrills could be repeated. Never
would this place become so accustomed, Betty
was sure, that she would not have them.
Then, this was the GREAT GAME. It was the
one between the two largest high schools of the
city and was an annual occurrence, long heralded,
the great game for which the teams prepared.
There had been a lively meeting in the
auditorium beforehand, that very morning. The
championship was at stake! “Oh,” said Betty,
“I don’t see how I can *stand* it if the Lions don’t
beat!”

“Don’t suggest such a thing,” Peggy called
back. “Of course we’ll beat!”

There was a large crowd, parents and friends
included, as well as many alumni of the high
school, who were interested enough and loyal
enough to see at least this one chief contest
every year. But Carolyn, Betty and Peggy,
with some of the other girls, were among
the first among those dismissed from the last
Friday classes. Their season tickets were
punched at the stadium entrance before the stadium
was appreciably filled.

“We’ve a grand choice, girls. Hurry!” Carolyn
tripped rapidly down the steps in the lead.

“Down there, back of those boys, Carolyn!”
called Peggy, who knew as well as Carolyn the
“strategic point” that they wanted to reach if
no one were ahead of them in securing it. “First
come, first served here, you know, Betty,”
Peggy added, hopping from one high step to
another in a short cut.

Carolyn was spreading newspapers and holding
them to keep them from being blown away
in the slight breeze. “Sit on ’em in a hurry,”
she laughingly urged, and settled herself on the
further one, next to two of the teachers, who
were spreading out a steamer rug. “Sensible
girl,” said one, smiling down at Carolyn. “Is
your coat warm enough?”

“Yes, Miss Heath, and we have on our sweaters
beside. Peggy and I nearly froze at the
University stadium last week, so we bundled up
this time. Did you see the game with State,
Miss Heath?”

“Indeed I did.”

“Good for you,” chuckled Carolyn. “You like
athletics, don’t you?”

“Very much–when some one else does it.”

“But *you* wouldn’t have time,” suggested
Carolyn. This was the Miss Heath whom all
the girls liked so much, girls of any rank from
freshmen to seniors. She was always fair,
though you had to work for her. No “getting
by” with poorly prepared lessons.

“No,” assented the adorable Miss Heath, “I’d
have no time, not even for setting up exercises.”
She looked at her teacher friend, a lady from
the rival school, and laughed. “What do you
think, Carolyn, would it be polite for me to sing
with you our school songs or do any rooting for
Lyon High when my friend from our rivals’
school is sitting right by me? By the way, Miss
March, this is Carolyn Gwynne, one of our
freshmen. You know the Gwynne place, out on
Marsden Road?”

“Oh, yes, quite well. How do you do, Carolyn.
I think I have met you at your home. I
belong to a club that met there last year.”

Carolyn said the appropriate remarks in
reply and was fortunately not obliged to decide
what was the polite course for Miss Heath
to follow. So far as she was concerned, no
scruples would have prevented her enthusiasm
for Lyon High, for the good reason that Carolyn
forgot everything but the game when the
contest was on.

Peggy, and Betty, too, third in order from
the teachers, leaned around Carolyn to bow in
friendly and respectful fashion, but at once they
gave their attention to the crowd and the field.
On the track a few runners were practicing,
their costume looking very cool for the chilly
fall breezes. A few boys were standing about
on the field or central “gridiron.”

Betty filled her lungs with the fresh air that
was not blowing too sharply. She was
accustomed to the curving concrete that rose high
behind her and stretched to right and left, to
the field before her and to the gymnastic or athletic
performances that had seemed so queer at
first because of the larger numbers and the better
equipment. By this time, too, she knew the
team, its best members and what they were
likely to do, though in the confusion of the game
it was sometimes hard for her to recognize a
play.

As the game was with a city school today,
there were as many or almost as many rooters
for the visiting team as Lyon High itself could
offer. As the seats filled rapidly, competition
between rooters began. Rival bands with tooting
horns and rolling drums made a dramatic
appearance, paraded, and finally took position.
Rival yell leaders led rival cheer, though Lyon
High, trained by its athletic director to good
sportsmanship, gave a complimentary yell or
two for its guests, using their own battle cries
or merely giving hearty rah-rahs for the rival
school and team.

Then the pandemonium was at its height
when the teams ran out upon the field and the
excited youngsters on the stadium seats rose
and shouted their greetings. Betty stood and
waved and gave the yells with the rest. She
might not have been long in Lyon High, but
she was a part of it now! It was her school!
There! That was Freddy Fisher, upon whose
plays so much depended. There went that mysterious
tall boy that somebody said came from
Switzerland and somebody else said was a Russian.
My, but he was an active chap! He was
almost as good as Freddy, Chet Dorrance had
told Betty, but he didn’t always understand the
signals and occasionally the team was penalized
for something that he did either accidentally
or on purpose. “He’s a hot one when he’s mad,”
said Chet, “and I guess he still thinks in his
own language, whatever that is, though he likes
to play and learn all the new signals pretty
quick, the coach says.”

“Peggy, there is your hero,” laughed Carolyn.

“Who?” inquired Peggy.

“The ‘Don.’”

“Oh, yes. I did say that he deserved as much
glory as Freddy for that last game, didn’t I?
He gave such fine interference.”

“The ‘Don’?” inquired Betty, puzzled.

“They have him Spanish now, Betty. He’s
been Russian, German, Hungarian and I don’t
know what all and I think the boys like to tease
us girls by making up something new about him
all the time. But isn’t he sort of handsome?”

“I’d hate to say, Peggy, if you like his looks,”
countered Betty.

“Betty likes them fixed up and awfully clean,
like Ted Dorrance, Peggy,” mischievously said
Carolyn.

Betty flushed a little, but smiled. “I have a
brother, girls. He’s better now, but time was
when Dick would just as lief never wash from
‘early morn till dewy eve’ as Father used to
say. ‘Aw, what was the use of washing before
breakfast when you had to wash right after
it?’” Betty gave a comical imitation of Dick’s
tones.

“So after assisting in rounding up Dick to
be washed and being embarrassed more than
once by his grimy looks, it’s no wonder if I like
’em clean at least. But I suppose I went through
that time of hating to be washed myself.”

“I doubt it, Betty,” answered Carolyn. “I
think you are always dainty, if you ask me.”

But now the time of the contest was at hand.
More excitement and cheers called for the
attention of the rooters to duty. They yelled for
their own teams now, under the frantic leadership
of active yell-leaders. The Lions’ little
mascot, arrayed in his mask of a lion’s head and
a suit as tawny as the coat of the biggest lion
in the “Zoo,” ran up and down, waving large
paws and trailing a long tasseled tail.

    | “Lions, rah!
    | Rah-rah-rah-rah, Lions!
    | Eeney, meeney, money mi,
    | Lions win when they half try--
    | Eeney meeney money mi,
    | Chew’em-up! Chew’em-up! *Lions*”
    |             (Roar)

The influence of the living models at the Zoological
Gardens, on whose fearsome roars many
of these high school pupils had been, figuratively
speaking, brought up, made this characteristic
roar, with which many of Lyon High
yells closed, very realistic. It had been with a
mixture of startled surprise, amusement and admiration
that Betty, Doris and Dick had first
heard it that fall. But now even Amy Lou tried
to imitate it.

    | “Hickity, rickity, spickity jig!
    | Zippity soom and lickity rig!
    |   The Lions are loose,
    |   Get out of the way!
    | They’ll romp to the finish.
    |   And Capture the Day Gr-rr-rr--LIONS”
    
Another favorite yell was both prefaced and
ended with a student roar from the Lyon High
part of the stadium. It was short and vigorous:

    |   “Lions! Lions!
    | And they’re not tame!
    |   Go it, Lions,
    | And *win that game!*”

Some unexplained delay gave time for a brief
rendering of a short high school song. “Make
it peppy!” called the leader, “one stanza and a
yell for the team!”

This closed the preliminaries and in a tense
stillness on the part of the spectators the game
began. From the first it was exciting, for the
teams were well matched. “Now let the Lions
Roar,” was balanced by “Now let the Eagles
Scream,” in several good plays by each in the
first quarter.

The Eagles kicked off but lost their advantage
almost at once. For a little the struggle resulted
in little gain for either side. A trick
kick failed. Line plays gained little. Both teams
resorted to punting and the Lions gained some
yardage. Betty, Carolyn and Peggy shared
some tense moments when the Eagles’ quarterback
made a good ran of thirty-five yards before
he was pulled down by Peggy’s new hero,
the “Don,” who came in for much cheering from
Lyon High rooters.

“Oh,” said Peggy, sitting back weakly, “I
thought he was going to make a touchdown!
How did he get away?”

“I don’t know,” answered Carolyn, “but he’s
a smart player, the best they have. He’s Bess
Pickett’s brother, you know.”

“He *ought* to be somebody, then,” replied
Peggy. “What a pity he doesn’t go to Lyon!”

“We don’t need him,” proudly said Carolyn.
“Wait and see Freddy Fisher wiggle and twist
out of–” but Carolyn did not finish her sentence
for interest in what was going on. She
was, however, a true prophetess, for as the
quarter was drawing near its end, their Freddy
caught an Eagles’ punt on his own ten-yard
line and raced through the entire Eagles’ team
for a touchdown, almost caught several times,
while the excited spectators stood and shouted.

“Get-that-man! Catch him! Catch him!”
called the Eagles.

“Look out, Freddy! Go it! Get there!”
shouted the Lyon High rooters. “A touchdown
Freddy! Atta-boy!”

The Lyon High band struck up a victorious
strain, while Freddy, once more the conquering
hero, lay upon his ball to get his breath.

During the second quarter there was no scoring.
The Eagles were determined to prevent
further scoring by the Lions and risked little
punting. They were able, however, to spoil any
fine little plans of the Lions. Betty, who could
not remember sometimes the various positions
of the players, though she could note their work,
watched the vigorous tackling and the opening
struggles of the plays and found it necessary
to make an effort not to become too worked up
over the contest. But the Lions must win this
time! They had barely won over the Eagles the
year before, but the championship was not at
stake then for an outside team had developed
into one that had beaten both Eagles and Lions,
and the Eagles had lost one other game.

Time out saw some of the boys going out to
the side lines and as they returned, Ted Dorrance
saw a vacant seat just below where our three
girls sat and vaulted into it. “Hello!” said he.
“This is a better place than I had before. Anybody
rented it?”

“Not that I know of,” laughed Carolyn.
“Some freshman we don’t know or some outsider
sat there, I guess.”

“He’s lost out now,” said Ted. “How are
you ladies enjoying the game?” Ted looked up
at Betty as he spoke.

“It is a wonderful game,” sighed Betty, “but
I can’t feel easy about our beating yet!”

Ted laughed, drew a package of peppermint
“life savers” from his pocket and handed it up
toward the feminine fingers. “Perhaps these
will do you some good,” said he. “As to feeling
easy, nobody does, though some would say
so. But take it from me, girls, and keep it under
your hat, something is going to happen.”

“Oh, tell us, Ted!” exclaimed Peggy.

Ted shook his head in the negative. “Official
secret. I happened to get hold of it. Sh-sh!”

Betty, with both dimples showing this time,
for she really had two, exchanged an amused
glance with the merry Ted, who now whirled
around as several boys returned to take seats
beside him, and one, looking up from below to
see no room there, hopped into another vacancy
lower down.

“You’ll not have to fight for your seat, Ted,”
remarked Carolyn. “Aren’t you seniors proud
of Freddy?”

“Yeah. But I wish this was a game where
the coach could put in a few substitutes. However,
the other team is as bad off.”

As he spoke, the attention of all centered on
the gridiron once more; but Betty was handing
Ted the little package of “life savers,” and as he
took it, he leaned back to whisper near her ear
as she stooped, “Watch the Don!”

Inquiring eyes met Ted’s with interest. He
nodded. “Do as I said,” he said jokingly, as he,
too, turned to give his full attention to the field.

Betty wondered. The “Don” was noted for
his good interference. Were they going to let
him do something else? Anyhow she would
watch him, as Ted directed. How nice it was
of Ted to tell her! But Carolyn had given her
an amused glance just after Ted had turned
away. She must be careful or those ridiculous
girls would keep on teasing her. Not that she
cared.

Very conservative, indeed, were the plays of
the third quarter. Very watchful were both
teams. But the Eagles must score if possible,
of course, since the only score had been made by
the Lions. Hard they fought. Alas–the Lions
were penalized for some breach of the rules by
Don, nothing serious, Ted said, just some little
regulation about “time”!

“That old heathen!” exclaimed Ted, looking
back at Betty, who wanted to ask Ted if this
were what she was to watch Don for. “But just
wait. We’ll show them!”

Next in excitement came a fifteen-yard holding
penalty imposed on the Eagles. But as if
in desperation, toward the last part of the quarter,
a forward pass by the Eagles was successful,
and Jim Pickett, clearing all interference,
made a seventy-five-yard run and a touchdown.

“*Now* hear the Eagle scream!” exclaimed
Ted. “What’s the matter with our team that
they let Jim get away with that? But it was a
pretty run. Jehoshaphat, we’re even now! No–they’ve
lost the kick! Hooray, we’re one
ahead!”

Ted was either talking to himself or to the
boys around him, but the girls followed his boyish
discourse with interest. And the next calamity
was even worse. In the next play one
of the fiercest Lions was hurt. They walked
him off, but one arm hung limp and Ted, who
again rushed away to find out the damage, returned
with the information that “Skimp’s arm
was broken!”

“Oh, will that let them beat us, do you think?”
asked Betty, leaning forward.

“Not necessarily,” replied Ted, “but it’s a
big loss,” and Ted looked a little grim. “Besides
that, Freddy’s twisted his ankle, mind
you!”

“But we mustn’t give up, Betty,” urged
Carolyn. “We have to root all the harder to
encourage the team!”

What had become of the play Don was to
make, Betty wondered–if that was what Ted
had meant?

The play of the third quarter, interrupted by
much time out, went on to the finish, the Lions
discouraged and not doing their best, Ted said.
The Eagles made apparently easy gains and
took every advantage, until after a rapid advance
toward their goal and in the last few
minutes of the quarter Jim Pickett made another
touchdown by catching the ball punted to
his position and running free to the goal. In
the excitement the final point to be gained by
the kick was again lost. But now the Eagles’
score stood ahead! Where were the brave
Lions?

“Well,” said Carolyn, “now comes the tug of
war. It’s the last quarter and everybody is tired
out, and Freddy is limping off the field and it
doesn’t look so good!”

“Never say die, Carolyn,” Peggy cheerfully
put in. “The boys aren’t going to lose the
championship without a fight!”

Ted had disappeared again. The Eagles were
having a snake dance and their band was
parading, the forty pieces blaring triumphantly.
“My, they do play well,” said Betty. “It’s
grand that the high schools are big enough to
have such music!”

“I can’t say that I appreciate the Eagles’
band right now, Betty,” said Peggy, “and you
won’t either, when you’ve been here a little
longer.”

A gleam of hope seemed to arrive with bright
Ted, who came jumping up to his seat just below
the girls and smiled as he sat down. “We’ll
lick ’em yet, girls,” he cried. “Freddy is resting
a little and getting his ankle bound up, and he’s
going to play all right. They’ve a pretty good
substitute for Skimp; at least I think that Bunty
will play a good game. So all is not lost. Cheer
up!”

The Eagles’ heroes were just as glad for a
short rest as Freddy or any of the weary Lions.
Recumbent forms lay about the field, presumably
drawing strength from Mother Earth.
Then, as the immense audience began to grow
restless over delay, heads were bent together,
in conference over coming plays, and the formation
was made, while encouraging though brief
cheers came from the rooters. After all the
singing, cheering and rooting in every known
way and the expenditure of considerable energy
and enthusiasm, the band, the cheer leaders and
the occupants of the seats in the stadium were
tired enough to long for the close of the game.
Yet tensity marked the opening of the quarter.

“Let’s go,” suggested one of the teachers next
to the girls. Carolyn looked around in surprise,
to see if it could be Miss Heath, usually so
loyal to the Lions. But possibly with the teacher
from the other school she rather hated to see
the finish.

But no, it was not Miss Heath who had suggested
going. “If you like, certainly,” she was
saying, “though it may be a little difficult to
get through the crowd.”

“That is so,” replied the other, “but I think
the game is practically over. Your big runner
is injured and I scarcely think that the Lions
can do much, with the substitute that they have
for that other boy. I saw him play once before
and he lost advantage once by fumbling when
he might have done something.”

“Oh, *can’t* we ‘do much’!” said Carolyn, in
a voice low enough not to be heard by Miss
Heath or her friend. “She thinks she’s so sure
of the Eagles!”

Peggy and Betty grinned back at Carolyn,
but settled themselves to watch the fray.

Again the struggle was on. Good! Freddy
Fisher was running about as actively as ever,
watched by the Eagles. Twice the ball was
given to him, but although he did not appear to
be lame as he ran, he could make little headway
before he was downed. The Eagles
“screamed” again, rooting loudly, and hoarse
encouragement came from the ranks of the Lyon
High rooters. “Atta-boy! Freddy, rah! Fight,
fight, fight, fight!”

Then came the surprise. Betty had forgotten
to follow Ted’s advice in regard to watch
“Don.”

Who had the ball this time? Betty was as
surprised as any one to see “Don” with the
ball, freeing himself from immediate interference
and starting off. Oh, could he do it!

The surprised Eagles pounded after the mysterious
foreigner while from the Eagles’ rooters
cries of “get that man! Get that man!” were
wildly repeated.

Betty’s heart was in her mouth. “What did
I tell you!” Ted was shouting to the boy next
him, as the Lion rooters stood up in a body and
cheered. “Run for it, Don! Watch out for
Matt! Look out there, Don! Hooray, they
didn’t get you that time!” In these and like
phrases, the boys in front of Betty and others
expressed their feelings, while the lad on his
way was trying to escape his enemies, all too
ready to recover from their surprise and take
measures to stop him.

Betty’s view was unimpeded. Now a tackler
launched himself at Don. Oh! Don stumbled
a little! No, he got away and the tackle clutched
the air. “He’s free! he’s free!” cried Carolyn,
jumping up and down.

Gaining a little on the pursuit, running with
more confidence, the “Don” sped down the long
path toward the goal, the ball held tightly.
Cheers arose and the fierce roar of Lyon High
in rejoicing followed the running lad. A few
Eagles still followed–but Don had escaped!
The “mysterious” player was to divide honors
with Freddy in the championship game and
equal the number of yards won by the Eagles’
quarterback, Jim Pickett.

“He’s made it! He’s made it!” shouted Ted,
embracing the boy next to him, as Don completed
his spectacular play and won his touchdown.
“Girls–what did I tell you, Betty! *Now*
watch the Lions do a snake dance!”

The Lions’ second touchdown put them ahead
and after that there was nothing but grim effort,
defence, blocking and wary play on both sides
until the quarter ended. The Eagles, indeed,
tried one or two desperate chances in the hope
of scoring, but the Lions, with equal determination,
blocked their every attempt, while an
almost silent stadium of spectators watched
closely every play.

Miss Heath was behind her friend as they
climbed the steps of the stadium, but happening
to pass Betty and Carolyn, she gave Carolyn
a meaning smile and reached for Betty’s hand
to give it a squeeze.

“She can’t *say* anything, to gloat over our
victory, of course,” said Carolyn, “but I can’t
help be mean enough to be gladder because that
other teacher was so *sure* we were defeated!”

“What about the Don now, Betty?” asked
Peggy. “If he isn’t so ‘slick’ as some of the
boys in dressing up, he was ‘slick’ in winning
the game for us, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, the Don’s all right!” said Betty. And
just then she felt a hand at her elbow. It was
Ted, who thus boosted her up a few steps,
telling her that the plan was to make “them”
feel secure and then “spring Don.” “So long,
girls–good game, wasn’t it?” Ted finally
inquired, leaping up the rest of the way and again
joining the boys.

A tired but happy Betty clung to the straps
of the crowded street car on the way home.
Doris was riding home in an automobile, with
the little daughter of a neighbor, but Dick
grinned at Betty from the far end of the car
and joined her when they left it at their corner.

“Say, did you ever see a fellow as heavy as
that foreign fellow looks run like that? But
he isn’t quite as slippery as Freddy. They
might have caught him if they hadn’t been so
surprised. What became of Doris? I didn’t
see her there at all. I hope she didn’t miss it.”

“No; Marie’s folks were there, with her and
Marie, and I saw Doris getting into their car
while we were waiting for the street car.”

“Just to think! We’re the champions of the
scholastic what-you-call it. Didn’t I *yell*, though
at the last shot, when the last quarter was over
and the game ours!”

CHAPTER IX: SHOWING OFF LYON HIGH
=================================

The game that won the championship for the
Lyon High team passed into history without
much effect upon Betty’s relations to any one.
It must be said that the Lyon High boys and
girls could not always forbear to mention their
victory in the presence of their rivals from the
other school and were immediately dubbed too
“cocky” over the “accident” or “trick” which
permitted the result. But argument died out
in the interest of other things and the football
season closed at the usual time.

The next bit of excitement for Betty was the
visit of her friends from home. “*Please*
arrange,” she wrote to Janet, “to come in time
to visit the school on Wednesday at least. Of
course, I could take you to see the buildings;
but it will be so much more interesting for you
to see them full of all of us. And I can introduce
you to the girls and everything.

“You must meet Carolyn and Peggy, that I’ve
told you about, and then there are such a lot
of other nice girls; and we’ll probably have an
auditorium session Wednesday morning with
something or other that you would enjoy seeing
go on. It isn’t going to hurt you to miss a
day or two of school–*please!* Get the teachers
to let you make it up and tell ’em why.”

In consequence, two bright-eyed and inwardly
excited girls descended from their car at the
railway station, to find Mr. Lee meeting the
crowds that were hurrying along with their bags
inside by the long train; and Betty was close to
the iron gates, watching with eager look to catch
the first glimpse.

Betty had not known Sue as intimately as
Janet, but she had always liked her and Sue
belonged to her Sunday school class as well as
to her class in school. At any rate Sue was as
warmly received as Janet and tongues went
rapidly indeed on the way home.

“Tell me everything,” Betty had said, and in
reply Janet had suggested that Betty “show
them everything.” But the sights had already
begun, for Mr. Lee went home by a roundabout
way to drive through one of the most beautiful
parks, from which they could see the river and
its scenery and villages on the other side. He
also drove past the high school which Betty
attended and Betty was quite satisfied with the
exclamations of her friends.

“I met Father down town,” Betty explained,
“for I went right down after school, with some
of the girls, and we had a soda. Then I went
to Father’s office and waited for him to be
ready. Did you girls miss much school?”

“Only this afternoon, and tomorrow, of
course,” Sue answered. “Janet’s father drove
us to Columbus, so we caught this train.”

“It’s pretty yet, isn’t it?” remarked Janet,
looking about at the trees and bushes in the
park, “and not a bit of snow.”

“We had a wee bit one day; but you can
notice quite a difference, one of the girls said,
between the climate here and where we used to
live.”

“Doesn’t that sound awful, Janet?” asked
Sue, “where she *used* to live!”

“But then you couldn’t visit me here, you
know,” Betty hastened to say, and Janet
smilingly replied “Sure enough.”

“Anyhow, you still *own* your house and the
lot next to it, don’t you?” queried Sue.

“I guess so–don’t we, Father?” answered
Betty, who did not pay much attention to business
affairs, and Mr. Lee nodded assent as he
drove rapidly along the boulevard, now homeward
bound.

“Do you know, Betty,” said Janet a little
later, when they were almost home, “I never
was inside of an apartment house!”

“I never either,” laughed Betty, “till I came
here; but we don’t live in a real apartment
house. Ours is what they call a ‘St. Louis.’
And don’t you know when one of the girls called
it that–her own place, I mean–I thought she
said she lived in St. Louis! I didn’t like to ask her
to explain how she lived in St. Louis and went
to school here, so I kept still and afterwards
heard somebody else speak of a St. Louis flat!”

“I’m going to keep still, too,” said Janet,
with some firmness. “You shan’t be ashamed
of your friends from the ‘country.’”

Mr. Lee spoke now, with a kind smile. “Betty
isn’t one to be ashamed of two such nice girls,
and moreover, girls, I think that you may vote
for the country, or at least the lovely little
village that is still home to us, when you see
how every one except the wealthy must live in
the city. I own to my wife that there are some
conveniences and advantages. She rather likes
it now. But it’s pretty crowded and unless you
like that, the small town is better. Fortunately
we live away from the street cars, a few
squares, so you may be able to sleep at night.”

“Mer\ *cee*,” exclaimed Janet. “But I shan’t
mind not sleeping–I’m not sure I could anyway.
Just to think of being here with you,
Betty!” and Janet squeezed Betty’s arm in
anticipation.

“Here we are,” cried Betty just then, and
Mr. Lee, driving in, ordered them facetiously
to “pile out.”

They “piled,” while Dick and Doris, still disappointed
that they, too, had not been permitted
to meet Janet and Sue, came running out, followed
by Amy Lou, whose mother was trying
to hold her back or at least to throw something
around her to protect her from the frosty air.
“O, Janet, it’s going to be such a glorious
Thanksgiving!” exclaimed Sue in Janet’s ear,
as she followed her up the steps and into the
house. And Betty was crying to the welcoming
mother, “O, Mother, they can stay over Sunday
and don’t care if they miss school on Monday!”

“Well, isn’t that fine,” warmly responded the
hostess. “I’m glad, too, to see the girls from
the old home and thankful to have room enough
to tuck you away. Take the girls back to your
room, Betty, and have them get ready for
dinner. Doris, you may set the table if you
will, and Betty will help me take up the dinner
presently.”

This was the beginning. On Wednesday
morning, Betty took her guests to school with
her, for Janet, particularly, wanted to visit
a few of the classes. Sue told Betty that she
could “dump her any place” if she liked. Impressed
with the numbers and the apparent
complexity of the system, the girls visited one
or two classes, met Betty’s home room teacher
and the others, in a hasty way between classes,
and then waited for Betty in the auditorium or
the library, where there was much to interest
them.

There was an auditorium session, with a few
exercises appropriate to the Thanksgiving
season and then a brief organ recital by a
visiting organist, whom the principal had secured
for a real treat to the entire school.

“Oh, I’m *so* glad that you heard our big
organ,” said Betty as she took them to the
library to leave them there while she went to
her last class before lunch.

“And it was great to see that immense room
filled with nobody but high school pupils, and
their teachers, of course,” added Janet, “only–only,
I believe, Betty, that I’d be too confused.
Some way, I like the little old high
school at home, and we have such a pretty building,
even if it is small.”

“Oh, you’d get used to it,” Betty assured
Janet. “I have, and still, there’s something in
what you say, of course. Now I’ll be right up
to take you to lunch; it’s on the floor just above
the library, you know, and I’m going to bring
Carolyn and Peggy along so we’ll sit together
at lunch and talk. Don’t you think they’re
sweet?”

“Peggy’s a perfect dear,” promptly Sue replied,
“and Carolyn is too nice for words, simply
adorable.”

After this tribute, the girls followed Betty
into the library, where Betty spoke to the
librarian in charge and took them to a seat at
one of the tables. “You can look at the books,
if you want to,” she whispered. “I spoke to
Miss Hunt, so it will be all right.”

The time did not drag, for boys and girls
were coming and going, or sitting at the tables
to read or examine books. The girls felt a little
timid about investigating any of the shelves,
but the pleasant librarian came to speak to
them and to suggest where they might find books
of some interest. Accordingly, each with a book
spent a little while in reading, though, it was
hard to put their minds on anything requiring
consecutive thought.

And now bright faces peeped in, for Janet
and Sue sat not far from the door. Betty was
beckoning and leaving the books upon the table,
the two guests joined Betty, Carolyn, Peggy
and Kathryn Allen, whom they had not met.

“This is Kathryn Allen, girls,” said Betty in
the breezy, hurried way made necessary by the
rapid movement of events. “I’ve told her who
you are. Let’s hurry in and see if we can get
places together. Mary Emma Howl and said
she’d try to save places for us at that table by
the window that we like. She’s in line now.
Look at that long line already! I’m glad we
happened to have first lunch, Janet, since you’re
here.”

“What is ‘first lunch,’ Betty? Do you have to
take turns?”

“Yes. There are several periods. Father
says that that is the only thing he doesn’t like
about this school, that there isn’t enough time
to eat without swallowing things whole. But it
isn’t as bad as that, really; and most generally
we don’t try to eat a big meal. Still, things
are so good, and you get so hungry, you know,
especially if you can’t eat a big breakfast.”

“I don’t like all your stairs,” said Sue, “but
I suppose it can’t be helped. I guess your
mother’s right–you need wings.”

“Oh, you get used to where rooms are and it
isn’t so bad. Of course, the building does spread
out awfully and up the three stories and basement.
And by the way, we can eat all we want
to this time, for I saw Miss Heath and told her
that I had company, and if I was a little late
to the first class would she give me a chance to
make it up–and she was in an awful hurry and
said, maybe without thinking, that I could.”

The tables did look tempting. “First lunch”
saw the whole array of pretty salads and desserts,
the chief temptations to the pupils, the
steaming meats and vegetables, so good in cold
weather. Cafeteria fashion, the long line
passed, choosing what to put on their trays, and
oh, the noise, within the concrete floors and
walls! Sue said to Janet, as they walked along,
that she was fairly deafened; but she had no
sooner sat down with the other girls at the
table where places had been successfully held
for them by Mary Emma, then she began
“shouting” with the rest to be heard.

Betty saw to it that her guests had a good
selection of viands, for neither Sue nor Janet
were inclined to take enough, not wanting to
run up the price for their young hostess. “Mer\ *cee*,
Betty, do you want to kill us?” asked Janet
as Betty placed a particularly toothsome looking
fruit dessert in her tray, in addition to the
modest piece of pie which she had herself
selected.

“Oh, no, not yet, Janet. Remember the turkey
we’re going to have tomorrow; but you must
have nourishment!”

Carolyn’s tray was slimly furnished, Janet
thought, and she wondered if she could not
afford to get more; or did she just like desserts?
Peggy had meat, dressing and gravy and a fruit
salad, of which she began to dispose with some
haste, though daintily enough. Sue and Janet
concluded that they must not look around too
much, though the surroundings were so interesting,
but apply themselves to the contents of
their trays, not a difficult task, since everything
was so good.

“Is there anything else you’d like, girls? I
can go back as easily as not,” said Betty, pouring
milk from a bottle into her glass.

“No, indeed,” answered both the girls together.
“We have too much now,” added Janet.

“If you can hear what I say,” called Carolyn
across the table, around whose end the girls
had gathered, “will you, Janet and Sue, come
with Betty to our house Friday evening after
dinner? Say about half-past seven or eight
o’clock? I’ll call up, too, Friday some time.
I’m going to have a few of the boys and girls
to meet your cousins, Betty.”

“Oh, how lovely, Carolyn, but I should have
the little party myself. I can’t let you do it. I
was going to ask you and Peggy and Mary
Emma and several other girls for Saturday. I
had to wait to make sure that the girls really got
here, you know.”

“Well, that would be just as nice as can be,
Betty. I’d love to come, but I know such a lot
of the boys and girls, so please come to our
house.”

“We could do both, then,” said Betty.

“All right, we’ll see about it, then,” assented
Carolyn. “Oh, yes, Chet, see you right after
school!”

Carolyn had turned to answer Chet Dorrance,
who spoke to her, tipping his chair and leaning
back from the next table. A crowd of boys
there were not uninterested in the little group
of girls, whose demure glances had been cast in
their direction occasionally.

“That’s Budd, Janet, next to Chet,” Betty
was saying, “and Kathryn’s brother Chauncey
is right across at that other table, the boy that
just sat down there with his tray. They’re all
sophomores. But there’s a freshman bunch at
the next table. I told you about Budd and
Chauncey and some of the rest when I wrote
you about Carolyn’s house party, didn’t I?”

“Maybe you did, Betty, but I can’t remember,
only about those you ‘rave’ about, like Carolyn.”

“I imagine that you’ll meet a lot of them at
Carolyn’s. Isn’t it wonderful of her to entertain
for us? I think I did say to her not to
have too much planned for Saturday and that
I was hoping that nothing would happen to keep
you girls from coming. I was pretty scared
about it when I heard from Sue that her mother
was half sick; but you did come, thank fortune!”

It was more easily possible for bits of conversation
with one person to be held, since when
more were included it was necessary to raise
the voice. The general conversation and
laughter, the jingle of silver and the clatter of
trays and dishes seemed to be louder than the
numbers served would justify, although there
was no special carelessness among the boys and
girls, and oversight made rude scuffling or trick
playing impossible, had there been any temptation
or time for it. “It’s just this big, echoing
room, Sue,” said Janet, for both visitors noticed
it. “But it’s lots of fun, and such good eats for
next to nothing, according to what Betty says.”

“They just charge enough to cover expenses,
of food and help and so on,” said Betty, who had
turned back from talking to Kathryn in time
to hear this last. “How was the pie, Janet?”

“Grand; good as home-made.”

“It *is* ‘home-made.’ I wish we had time to go
back and see all the place they have to cook
and bake. Well, we can’t do everything in one
day, can we?”

“We are doing enough,” replied Janet. “My
brain is whirling as it is, going from one thing
to another and trying to remember who is who
and what is what.”

“Don’t try,” said smiling Betty. “I’ll tell
you again, or remind you. I felt the same way
at first, and remember that I had to learn to
live it and do it–them–everything!”

On the way out Betty had a chance to point
out, figuratively speaking, both Freddy Fisher
and the “Don” of football fame, and she almost
ran into Ted Dorrance in the hall. “Say,”
said he, catching Betty’s shoulder for a moment,
“we seem to run each other down, don’t
we? Oh, beg pardon!” The last expression
was addressed to Janet, whom he had brushed
against in avoiding Betty and a crowd of
teachers that were coming from the opposite
dining hall, sacred to the instructors of youth.

“Please stop a second and meet my friends
that are visiting me–Miss Light and Miss
Miller, Mr. Dorrance, a prominent junior, girls.”

Betty smiled up at Ted as she added the last
in complimentary fashion, but he shook his
head at her, pleasantly acknowledging the introduction.
“She doesn’t say what I’m prominent
for, you notice,” but with a salute from
his hatless forehead, Ted was gone. There was
no standing on ceremony when school hours
were on and everything, even lunch, ran on
schedule.

“I’ll not have to hurry as much as I thought,
girls, since it was first lunch. I’m about crazy
today, I suppose, with delight at your being
here and wanting you to know about everything
and everybody. What would you like to do while
I’m in class and study hall? Want to visit both
of them?”

“How many periods have you this afternoon,
Betty?”

“Three, but one of them’s in gym.”

“All right, we’ll visit study hall and gym and
stay in the library or auditorium during your
class.”

So it was decided. “Gym” proved most interesting.
Study hall was full of possibilities,
Sue said, for it was interesting to see whether
this one or that one studied or not, to guess
who they were and to recognize those whom
they met. And after the last gong had rung,
how odd it was to pass through those crowded
halls, where pupils were putting away their
books in their lockers, getting their wraps from
them, and going to their home rooms until dismissed.
It was all on a bigger scale than in
their home school. And the crowded street car
was another feature, not so pleasant, perhaps.

But Betty looked out for the girls, to see that
they had each a strap, until Chet and Budd and
a freshman boy Betty knew, who were, happily,
near, caught Betty’s eye and signaled the girls
to come where they were sitting, half rising, yet
holding the seats until the girls should be ready
to slide into them.

“Now, then,” said Chet, hanging to a strap
in the aisle, after a brief introduction to Janet
and Sue, “what do you think of our school? I
noticed you had company, Betty.”

“We’re quite overwhelmed by the school,
really,” answered Janet, politely, and smiling
up at the boy whose seat she was occupying.
“But we have a good school, too, and I think
you can learn anywhere.”

“I suppose you can,” said Chet, “if you work
at it. Did you see the stadium?”

“Yes, and it’s just marvelous. I don’t wonder
Betty raves over everything!”

This satisfied Chet, who did not much care
for the remark about learning anywhere. “I’m
invited to meet you at Carolyn’s Saturday, no,
Friday night, so I’ll see you there. Yep, coming,”
and Chet moved down toward a boy who
had beckoned him.

Gradually the jam lessened, as one after another
reached a stopping place. By the time
Betty and her friends had reached their own
stop, every one was seated. Budd was the last
one to swing off, and like Chet he parted from
them with a “So long, girls, I’ll see you Friday
night.”

“Those boys must know you pretty well
Betty,” said Janet.

“They do. Ever since Carolyn’s party.”

CHAPTER X: MORE FESTIVITIES
===========================

“Thanksgiving always means turkey and
mince pie to me,” frankly said Dick, as he
sniffed savory odors and executed a clog dance
on the kitchen floor to the detriment of its
bright linoleum.

“Scat!” said an unappreciative sister at the
close of the brief effort. “This kitchen isn’t
big enough for any antics.” But Betty was
grinning and Janet, who was wiping dishes,
tapped a toe in time. “We’re clearing the deck
for Mother’s greatest efforts,” Betty continued.
“Nobody can have the roast turkey just right
as she can. Thanks, Janet. There’s the place
to hang the towel. Now you girls get ready,
while I peel the potatoes and do a few other
things. Mother, shall I wash celery now?”

“Why, that will be very nice. You are bound
to leave me nothing to do, I see.”

“That, my dear Mother, is your imagination
and a beautiful dream. When we come home
from church and find the turkey cooked and the
potatoes ready to mash and the mince pie sizzling
hot–yum, yum!” Betty was hanging up
the dish pan and hurrying to put the celery in
cold water.

“Church!” sniffed Dick, still hanging around.

“Just for that,” grinned Betty, “I believe I’ll
urge Father to take you with us.”

“If you *do*,” threatened Dick, shaking a fist,
though, grinning, as he disappeared altogether
from his position in the kitchen door, and they
heard him scampering down the hall.

“Now he’ll get out a book or something,” said
Betty to Janet, “and settle down for awhile.
The point is, we really think it better to have
Doris, at least, at home, to amuse Amy Lou
and keep her out of Mother’s way a little; and
since they didn’t want to go to church with us,
it’s all right. Oh, you are going to enjoy the
service, I think. One of our very best preachers
is to give the sermon at the sort of union service
of the churches; and it’s in one of the very prettiest
churches, too, with a big vested choir and
everything! There will probably be some grand
solo, or quartette, or something special, and we
want to get there early enough to hear the
chimes.”

“Sue and I will get ready, then, right away–shall
we?”

“Please, and I’ll whisk into something and
we’ll be off in a jiffy, when Father’s ready to
go.”

In such active fashion Thanksgiving Day began
for this household and its guests, with
everybody in fine spirits. The air was cold and
Dick was hoping for snow. “Gee, I bet the
boys are skating up home,” said he as he followed
his father to the garage.

“I doubt it,” replied his father, “but you’re
not going to get as much snow and ice as you
want here, I suppose.”

Three happy girls, warmly clad, climbed into
the machine with Mr. Lee and they were soon
whirling on their way toward the church, whose
service was almost as new to Betty as to her
guests, with beautiful music and an impressive
message. And then came the return to the warm
house, the smiling mother with her face a little
flushed from frequent bastings of the turkey,
and the good old-fashioned Thanksgiving
dinner, which makes every one thankful whether he
was in that mood before or not.

As usual, Mr. Lee stopped to let his passengers
enter by the front door, while he drove
to the garage, and Betty was rather surprised
to have her mother open the door for them,
though probably the night latch was on. Mother
kept things locked up as a rule, since coming
to the city.

“Hang up your wraps here in the closet,
girls,” breezily directed Mrs. Lee, “and go into
the living room to meet our guest.”

“Guest!” thought Betty as she gave her
mother an inquiring look. Who in the world
had come?

“It is one of the boys that your Father
knows, Betty,” replied Mrs. Lee, speaking softly
in reply to Betty’s unspoken question. “It seems
he asked him to come for Thanksgiving dinner
and forgot to tell me–so by all means make
him welcome. I think he goes to one of the
high schools and works in between times.”

Betty, wondering, and guessing at the cordiality
which her mother must have used to
cover up her ignorance and make the boy feel
at home, followed her mother from the hall to
see a tall, rather heavy boy rise and stand a
little awkwardly to be introduced. Dark eyes,
unsure of a welcome, met Betty’s. Why–why,
it was the “Don!”

From the rather sober, polite girl who was
ready to make a stranger welcome, Betty became
a wide-awake, welcoming friend. Her
mother, in a low but cordial voice, was mentioning
a name that Betty had heard but never remembered,
and then she was giving the girls’
names to the guest.

“Why, Mother, *this* is the hero of our championship
game!” Betty was stretching her hand
out with a smile. “Does Father know it? And
where is Dick? He ought to be worshipping
at your shrine!” Betty hardly knew what she was
saying in her surprise. The other girls, following
Betty’s example, shook hands with the tall
lad, who seemed to lose a little of his shy attitude
under this complimentary greeting. It
was nothing so unusual, to be sure, for the Lees
to have some lonesome body to share their
Thanksgiving dinner, yet her father’s forgetfulness
and the surprise of his acquaintance with
the “Don” were two unexpected features of the
situation. But trust Mother to handle it!

“Dick went off somewhere almost as soon as
you went to church, Betty,” Mrs. Lee was saying.
“I’m glad to know that he will find a friend
in Mr. Balinsky. Please excuse us all for a few
minutes. I’m going to ask the girls to help me
take up our dinner. Mr. Lee will be in shortly
and Amy Lou will keep you company, I suppose.”

Amy Louise, who had reached the point of
showing one of her picture books to the “big
boy,” soberly nodded assent. Doris was nowhere
to be seen, but she was found cracking nuts for
the top of the salad and announced to Betty,
“We have everything ready now, I think.”

“Well, you certainly have been a help to
Mother,” said Betty warmly, “and did you know
that Ramon Balinsky is the ‘Don’?”

“Why Betty Lee! How wonderful! No, I
never saw him close enough at school; and then
you couldn’t tell, on the field, in his football
clothes! My, won’t Dick be simply stunned?
I’m going to see where he is and call him!”

“His name has been in the school papers, but
we’ve always called him the ‘Don’, so for a
minute I didn’t know him, all dressed up, too,
in his Sunday clothes, I suppose. He usually
looks so dingy at school, but Mother says he
works, so of course, poor kid!”

“Maybe he doesn’t have enough neckties and
shirts, Betty,” added Doris, in a sepulchral
whisper. “Bet he’ll like our dinner all right!”

Dick needed no rounding up, for he breezed
into the back door just then, to be told by Doris
to, “just go into the front room and see who’s
going to be here for dinner!” And the girls
busy with trips back and forth, from kitchen
to dining room and dining room to kitchen,
smiled to hear the whoop with which Dick welcomed
the older boy. It was not loud, but enthusiastic,
and an immediate sound of conversation
in Dick’s boyish treble and Ramon’s
deeper tones indicated, so Betty whispered, that
Dick was finding out everything that they
“wanted to know but wouldn’t ask.”

Mr. Lee came in from the garage and held up
his hands as he heard Ramon’s voice. Then
he pretended to be frightened and whipped outside
again into the little back hallway where
the refrigerator stood. “You are forgiven, sir,”
laughed his wife. “Come and carry the platter
with the turkey to the biggest place I’ve
prepared, and do not drop it on pain of dire consequences!”

“Honestly, Mother, I forgot all about it, but
you don’t mind, do you?”

“Not a bit. I supposed he was some lonesome
youngster that you had found, but you can
tell me all about it later.”

“I knew you would have a big dinner as
usual”–but Mr. Lee now accepted the hot
platter with the turkey and reserved further remarks
for the future. And soon both young
and older heads were bowed around the long
table while Mr. Lee said grace.

“Our heavenly Father, we thank Thee for
these evidences of Thy goodness and bounty
and for all the mercies of the year–for health
and strength and work and human love and
friendship. Bless us all as we offer our gratitude.
Forgive us if we have not served Thee
well, strengthen us for the future, and keep us
in Thy care, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.”

Ramon’s solemn black eyes looked respectfully
at Mr. Lee as he raised his head after the
blessing; but Amy Lou made them all smile
by a long sigh and a little leap in her high chair
as her father picked up the carving knife and
fork There was plenty of conversation at once,
in which Ramon could take part if he liked;
but no one expected anything, it was evident,
and the chief interest, it must be said, centered
in the good dinner, with compliments to the
cook. Never was there such good dressing, or a
turkey so well done and juicy at the same time.
The cranberry jelly was a success and Betty’s
mashed potato was a marvel of whiteness. It
was fortunate that there was plenty of gravy.
Janet had brought the spiced peaches from the
home town and felt much honored that Ramon
liked them better than the cranberry jelly with
his turkey, not that he said so, of course.

As usual, there were too many things, but
there would be other meals, as Mrs. Lee said
when her husband told her that nobody was
eating “the other vegetables” and that dressing
and mashed potato would have been enough.
Ramon cast a look at the great dish of grapes,
oranges and other fruit on the buffet, with a
little bowl of cracked nuts and a plate of fudge,
and then viewed the hot mince pie before him.
“You must have a piece of Mother’s pumpkin
pie, too, Ramon,” said Betty. “She always
bakes pies for the suppers and things at home,
church suppers, I mean. And do you remember,
Mother, the time we had the dining hall
at the fair?”

“Do I?” smiled Mrs. Lee. “Our aid society
made enough money to buy new dishes and carpet
the church, but oh, how we worked!”

“I think that it is cake where your Mother
excels,” said Mr. Lee, “but I suppose we shall
not have any this noon.”

“If you want it, Father,” said Betty.

“We shall reserve that for our supper lunch,
Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, “and we want you to
stay for that, Ramon.”

“Thank you, madam–that would be too much,
I’m sure. I expect one of the boys, I think.
I–I ought to call him up, I suppose, for he
was to come for me at three-thirty or four and
I may not be able to get back to where I board
by that time.”

“Call from here, Ramon,” said Betty. “Oh,
Mother, I’m glad you did put those fat raisins
in the mince meat!”

But all the conversation did not center upon
the food. Mr. Lee drew out in the course of the
dinner some facts from Ramon in which the
girls were very much interested. He had,
indeed, come to America directly from Spain, but
his father was Polish and Ramon had seen
Paderewski in Poland. He had attended school
for several years in a small eastern town where
he studied “English and American,” he said.

“I was so behind in everything English, you
see, that I had to be put in a lower grade at
first than I would have been in in my own
country; but I made three grades in one year
because I could do the mathematics and such
things; and so when I learned to read and speak
your language pretty well, it was not so hard.
A friend of my father’s brought me here, but
he died.”

“Oh, do you understand all the football language
now?” asked Dick.

“He certainly must, Dicky, or he wouldn’t
have done what he did,” suggested Betty, who
did not think that Dick should have asked that
question. But Ramon only laughed a little.

“I know most of it now, Dick,” Ramon replied,
“and I can stand being punched or kicked
without wanting to knock the player down. Is
that what you call ‘good sport’?”

“Yep,” said Dick. “That’s good football.”

“Do you expect to finish high school here?”
kindly asked Mrs. Lee.

“If I can,” answered Ramon.

After dinner all but Betty and her mother
went into the living room to visit; but the two
made short work of putting away the food and
making neat piles of the soiled dishes, and soon
they joined the rest. Amy Lou was sleepy but
would not leave the scene without a fuss. Consequently
she was permitted to stay. Ramon
called up the “boy,” who proved to be Ted Dorrance.

A little music and a few quiet games were
all that the time afforded before Ted alighted
from a big car and ran into the yard and up
the steps to ring the doorbell. Betty answered
the ring and friendly Ted strode in. “Can’t stay
a minute,” said he, “the ‘Don’ here?”

“Yes, come in.”

“In a moment. Say, Betty, I’d like to have
a hand in giving the girls a good time. How
about a little fun tonight? Chet has an idea.”

“I’m sure we are free for anything, Ted, and
it is good of you. Father and Mother say that
Ramon must be brought back here for supper
tonight, so why can’t you come, too? Or, I tell
you what–would some of you come for a taffy
pull? Come to supper, too, of course.”

“I couldn’t do that, Betty–had such a big
dinner and all the folks are around at home.
But do you give me leave to bring whom I can
tonight?”

“I *think so!* Bring Louise and somebody else
for Ramon.”

“Great idea. Let’s see, three of you, all freshmen?”

“Yes. The girls were in my class.”

“All right. It’s a surprise party, then, just
as Chet had the nerve to suggest. Tell your
mother and surprise the girls.”

“Glorious. I’m delighted that he though of it.
Do get Carolyn and Peggy if you can.”

“They already know about it, in case it is decided.”

“Oh, then you really meant to do something!”

“She doubts my word! Listen–don’t get refreshments
ready, unless you have the stuff to
make the taffy. I don’t know whether the girls
could bring that or not and the stores are closed.
We were just going to order ice-cream sent
around, and what else we could get.”

“Listen, Ted, yourself. Mother has the most
delicious cake, extra big, because we baked up
for company, you know. Have the ice-cream if
you must, but not another thing, please.”

What fun it was to plan something with Ted!
Betty felt quite grown up. First they had a
senior to dinner, now here was a junior, with
probably Louise coming and loads of fun
ahead!

The girls and Ramon were both wondering
what could detain Ted and Betty in the hall,
but Ramon hesitated to rise until Ted should
appear. That he did at once, however, with a
last word to Betty. He was properly respectful
in meeting Betty’s father and mother and
bowed a friendly greeting to the girls, Dick,
Doris and little Amy Lou, who had wakened and
was sleepily arranging a row of tiny dolls on the
window sill.

“The boys have something on hand and want
the ‘Don’ this afternoon. I’ll deliver him in
two or three hours or so. Supper will not be too
early, will it?”

“Not after a late dinner,” Mrs. Lee assured
Ted, “but it would be better to ‘deliver’ our
guest by seven at least.”

“Before that, I promise you,” answered Ted.
“Don’t forget, Betty, our little scheme.”

“How could I?” replied Betty.

CHAPTER XI: THE “SURPRISE” PARTY
================================

“What is the great scheme, Betty?” asked
Doris.

“I’m not telling, Dodie,” said Betty, “but you
will know before long perhaps. It’s just something
the boys and girls are going to do. By the
way, Mother, may I consult you about something?
I need permission for something not to
be divulged as yet.”

“You are making us curious, Betty,” lightly
said Janet. “Come on, Sue, try that new tune
of yours on Betty’s piano.”

Mr. Lee had left the room and Dick followed
him to ask that the car be gotten out for a
ride. “All right, son. Perhaps the girls and
Mother will like to go.”

Betty and her Mother escaped to the kitchen,
where they started on the dishes, hoping that
the sounds of china would not be noticeable in
the front room. The visitors were only too good
about offering their services. “You must go,
Mother, with Amy Lou, because you’ve been in
working all day,” said Betty, with decision, “and
that will never do on Thanksgiving. Besides,
there’s something else on hand and I don’t know
what you’ll think of it!”

“Confess, Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, smiling and
making a fine suds for her glasses and silver.

“First tell me that you’ll go, Mother, for I’ll
stay and finish these up and begin to fix things
for our supper.”

“All right, child. I’ll go. Now what?”

Betty at once told about the surprise party
“all rather on the spur of the moment,
Mother, at least as far as having it tonight is
concerned. And I think Ted is in it only because
he found Ramon here and thought it would be
good for him to stay.”

“Why do you think so–because Ted is older?”

“Yes. But it gives him a chance to take Louise
to something different, you see. I think that
Ted has a sort of ‘case’ on Louise Madison.”

“I see. Yes, Betty, I think we can manage
it. Haven’t you any idea how many are
coming?”

“No–that’s the mischief, but I suppose not
a great many.”

“We are well prepared for things to eat. If
the cake does not last as long as we thought,
it does not matter. Your friends will be welcome.
There is that fruit cake that I baked for
Christmas, too, and we can use that if we run
short. We’ll make a hot drink and the cake and
ice-cream, with taffy, ought to be enough in all
conscience, especially on Thanksgiving. If your
father is ready before we finish, whisk off the
tablecloth, Betty, and use the lunch things for
supper. But don’t concern yourself about the
meal. Just get your room ready for the girls
to take their wraps to and look around to pick
up anything that is out of order. Fortunately,
Amy Lou will want to go to bed before they
come.”

“Yes, and everything is all fixed up for company,
even if it doesn’t exactly stay put with all
of us. Oh, you’re so nice, Mother! It’s such a
relief!”

At this point, Janet and Sue ran out to the
kitchen and took aprons from the hooks upon
the wall. “Did you think that we wouldn’t want
to help?” asked Sue, reproachfully. “Let me
wipe and you put away, Betty, for I don’t know
where things go.”

“Well, since you insist,” laughed Betty, pulling
a dry towel from a drawer. “Come help me
take off and fold up the big tablecloth, Janet,
and a lot of the dishes and nearly all of the silver
can go back on the table. Where are the
other linen things, Mother?”

“Same drawer as usual. After lunch we’ll
take out the leaves and,”–but Mrs. Lee did not
finish, for she had nearly told the reason for
making more room in the dining room. The two
large rooms ought to hold quite a number of
boys and girls, she thought. But Mother was
tired, as Betty had surmised, and she knew that
she needed to get away for a few minutes at
least.

Mr. Lee had been obliged to do something to
the car, or change a tire, though no one inquired
what, when, after just time enough to get the
main part of the dishes done, they heard a honking
in front. “That couldn’t be Ted back with
Ramon, could it?” thought Betty, rather panicky.
But it was only the family car honking
for passengers. All was well!

“Aren’t you coming Betty?” asked Janet, surprised.

“No, Janet, I want to start things and some
one ought to be here in case Ramon comes back
early. He has to come when they bring him,
you know. Moreover, if you all go, it is just as
well not to be too crowded.”

Betty was glad to be by herself for a little
while. She finished putting the kitchen in
order, washing the last pan. Then she flew back
to the bedroom to see that dresser and all were
neat and to hang away a few things that she
and the girls had left out. She decided that
there was a prettier set of lace covers for the
little dressing table and put them out. She
hoped that the girls would not notice particularly
and she looked up some embroidered guest
towels, ready to whisk them into place when the
guest should first arrive. Or her mother could
put on the finishing touches in the bath room if
she were welcoming the crowd. Betty felt a
little excited, wanting her friends to like her
home and knowing that some of them, Carolyn
among others, had so much more room. It was
hard to be so crowded. No, it wasn’t. It was
all right when they were by themselves, and she
was sure that anybody that *was* anybody would
like her for herself! It was Betty’s first feeling
of responsibility for the appearance of a house,
a temporary one, to be sure. She had been accustomed
to do what she was told, but the roomy
old place “at home” had no such problems as
this apartment.

There was a ring of the bell before Betty had
thought about the light supper, though to be
sure her mother had said she was to feel no responsibility
for that. Betty rushed to the door,
to find Ramon there. Again he looked apologetic
and hesitatingly said, “I’m afraid I’m too
early, but Ted and the boys brought me on. Ted
is driving around to see one or two of the girls.”

“Come right in,” cordially Betty invited. “Sit
down and read the paper or something till I
start things a little in the kitchen. I think the
earlier we get our supper, or lunch of a sort, out
of the way the better, don’t you? Or did Ted tell
you what is going on?”

“Yes, he did,” replied Ramon, as he obediently
walked into the living room after having divested
himself of his overcoat and hat. “Say, Miss
Betty, we had such a wonderful dinner that you
surely won’t do much for supper, will you? I
feel as if it’s an imposition for me to come back,
and yet,—”

“And yet what would be the use of going home
and then coming right back to a party?” finished
Betty.

“Well, that was it, of course; and then it is so
homelike here and so different from what I have
all the time.”

“Do you really like it, then?” asked Betty,
pleased.

“Who could help it? And now why couldn’t
I help be *chef*? It would be what you call fun.
I could tell you of so many things that I have
done since I came to your country, and I earned
my meals one time in a restaurant. I do not
always tell that to the boys and girls, for they
do not understand, and yet my people in Spain
and Hungary and Poland are of the best.”

“Father thinks it is what you are, inside, that
makes you,” said Betty, nodding a determined
little head. They were still standing just within
the living room door.

“Oh, your father! He is a big man! I fix his
car at the garage where I work after school, and
before school, too. And he forgot to tell your
sweet mother and yet she made me welcome.”
Ramon was smiling in amusement as well as
appreciation.

“Oh, could you tell that?” Betty chuckled.
“Mother thought that she had successfully concealed
her surprise. But she was glad to have
you come, you understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, and all of you helped.”

“Well, now let’s see, Ramon. Come on into
the kitchen and help me decide what we want.
We’ve got a lot of that salad fixed and if you
will crack a few more English walnuts we’ll fix
a pretty big glass bowl of it and pass it instead
of putting salad around at each place. Nobody
could finish his salad at dinner time. And I’ll
put on the lunch cloth or what-you-call-it–and
you can set down all that fruit and the bowl of
nuts on the buffet. My, imagine me bossing the
gr-reat football hero of Lyon High, and a senior
at that!”

Ramon only laughed at that and took the
large apron, soberly offered him by a Betty with
twinkling eyes, and tried to fasten it around
himself. But he was not used to tying a bow in
the back, Betty told him, so she would finish the
operation. “Now see what an artist you are in
the dining room first, Ramon.”

Thus Betty, while she arranged the linen
pieces on the table, waved a hand at the buffet
and flew into the kitchen herself. “Won’t they
be surprised when they come back?” she called,
appearing in the door with a whole head of lettuce
in her hands. “And it will be fine to have
you to help us make the table small after supper.
Father always has to help with that because
the table sticks and we can hardly push it
together. Do you think you would be strong
enough?”

Ramon gave Betty an amused look. “Yes,
Miss Betty, I think I’m strong enough and I’d
do anything for any of you!”

“Well,” sighed Betty, “I really don’t believe
in having your company work, but under the
circumstances it is a great help! You see Mother
had been doing so much cooking, so I made her
promise to go out for a ride.” With this Betty
disappeared from view, to wash the lettuce
under the faucet and run into the pantry for the
big glass dish or bowl.

Ramon finished arranging the fruit and nuts
and went out into the kitchen declaring that he
was no artist and that she could change anything
that he had done. Betty managed to keep
him busy, but it was only about fifteen minutes
before the whole family arrived, Dick to utter
another whoop at seeing his hero in an apron,
and the girls to join the activities with much
fun and lively conversation. Mrs. Lee was allowed
only to supervise and make the coffee and
Mr. Lee declared that he would not think of being
underfoot in such a busy kitchen and dining
room.

“The boy looks happy,” he said to his wife.
“I’m glad I asked him to come. He’s a very
sober, lonely chap, so far as home is concerned.
He probably has a good enough time at school,
especially since he made such a hit in football,
as you tell me.”

“I wonder how he gets his lessons, if he works
so hard,” said Mrs. Lee.

“How do any of them get their lessons?” asked
Mr. Lee in return, “with all that is going on.
It hasn’t hit Betty yet, thanks to our management.”

Young appetites were ready for the supper
that spread so invitingly on the pretty table;
for it was decided to set everything conveniently
near, since they were their own servants.
Then afterwards the girls quickly
cleared the table, and Ramon, without remark and
under Betty’s direction, took out the leaves and
made the table small. Betty and Janet together
at one end pushed against Ramon on the other.
“It will give us more room and look better,” explained
Betty to the girls, who were still ignorant
of what was to come. Betty, too, was ignorant
in regard to *who* was to come. She was as
uneasy and restless as a girl could be and not
show that something was on her mind. Ramon
was wondering what excuse he could offer for
staying so long, but it took some time to clear
away the supper and while Mrs. Lee told Betty
to “go and entertain her guests and she would
finish up the dishes,” Betty, by way of camouflage,
said, “we *could* leave them till morning
of course; but it will be nicer in the morning
not to have them before us.” Sue rather
wondered at Betty’s easy compliance.

At last the bell rang, not a steady ring with
perhaps another, but a series of rings in rhythm.
Janet and Sue looked up surprised from a
puzzle that Betty had given them and Ramon
to work out. But Ramon grinned and Betty
laughed, running to the door. “*Something’s
up*,” said Sue. “I *suspected* it!”

Laughter and greetings filled the hall.
“S’prise Party!” called Peggy’s voice.

“Ted again!” exclaimed Janet, rising, “and
Peggy Pollard and Carolyn Gwynne!”

And now they thronged in, bringing the cold
air with them from the open hall door. The
girls entered first, surrounding Janet and Sue,
to shake hands in the spirit of fun and surprise,
while Carolyn saw that the names of the girls
were understood by Janet and Sue who might
not have met them all or had not remembered
their names. Carolyn was always thoughtful.

Betty, after telling the boys to leave their
hats, caps and coats in the hall, came to the
group of girls and led them back to the room
where they could take off their wraps and powder
their noses if they liked. Mother, bless her,
had swiftly put on the finishing touches and the
guest towels in the bath room after Amy Lou
was in bed and the various washings up after
supper were completed.

“Yes, Betty,” Carolyn excitedly told Betty,
“we had thought of doing it and then pretty
nearly gave it up because we weren’t sure of
your liking it; and I hadn’t been in this ducky
apartment before and wasn’t sure that you had
room for a party. But when old Ted called up
and told me what boys he’d rounded up, I telephoned
then to the girls and we all met at
Louise’s.”

So it was a “ducky apartment,” was it? Trust
Carolyn’s generous soul. Betty was sure that
Carolyn liked her for herself!

Naturally Ted had a “few souls” old enough
for himself and Ramon. There was Louise
Madison and a pretty junior named Roberta
Ayers. The Harry Norris whom Betty had first
seen with Ted Dorrance was there, a good
friend, evidently, of a small, fair sophomore
girl, Daisy Richards. It was rather unusual,
of course, this mingling of ages or classes at a
small party, but the invitation to Ramon was
the cause of it all, and Betty was so glad to
have Ted, who had been so “nice” to her, she
thought, at a party in her house. Yet, of course,
she had not given the invitations. Where would
she have stopped if she had? For not all the
girls and boys that she would have wanted were
here.

Of the younger boys there was Chet Dorrance,
Chauncey Allen, Brad Warren, Budd LeRoy,
James Simmonds and two freshmen boys whom
Betty scarcely knew, Andy Sanford and Michael
Carlin, whom the boys called Mickey or Mike
according to their fancy.

Janet and Sue found themselves surrounded
by the group of boys when they came in from
the hall and Betty had escorted the girls back
to the bedroom. Ted did the honors of introduction,
but it was only a few minutes before
Betty was back and acting as hostess.

Mr. Lee had disappeared long since. Mrs.
Lee was putting Amy Lou to bed at last accounts
and the door of bedroom and dressing
room was shut. Dick and Doris, feeling rather
out of it, had moved into the kitchen till Betty,
at last seeing everything started, thought of
them and looked them up.

“No, Betty,” said Dick, “I don’t want to be
introduced all around! But I’ll come into the
dining room, if you want us, and talk to some
of the boys, if it happens that way.”

“I’d like to have you at least see the fun and
of course when the refreshments are served you
must be with us. I’ll probably need you.
Would you mind?”

“I’ll help,” said Doris. “It would look better.”

“So it would. And will you, Dick?”

“Yes.”

“And you can help pull the taffy. I do hope
Mother will know how to cook it, though perhaps
Louise knows.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Dick, and Betty felt relieved
about the family. Everything was just
all right! And Mother did know, she said.

Ted and Louise were good at starting games.
Brad, however, was prevailed upon to play
some lively tunes upon Betty’s piano and the
rest hummed to tunes or sang when there were
words to the melodies.

Pencils and paper were called for by Louise
Madison, who announced that five minutes, or
less, would be given for every one to make words
out of what would be given them when they were
ready to commence. Betty hurried to get paper
and as many pencils as the family could command.
Fortunately, most of the boys carried
pencils in their pockets, Dick and Doris had a
supply of stubs among their school things, and
with much whirling of the pencil sharpener in
the kitchen, they were soon ready.

“And, O, Mother, won’t you please start the
candy to cooking? It has to cool and be pulled
after that, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” said Mrs. Lee, who rather regretted
sacrificing the excellent syrup from the
home town, so much better than that she bought
in the city. But it was worth while, for Betty’s
pleasure, and to entertain her friends, after all.
“I will see to it and call you when it is ready.
Luckily Amy Lou is sound asleep.”

But no sooner had Betty remarked to Louise,
as she handed her the supplies, that her mother
was starting the syrup than Louise cried, “Oh,
I have to learn how to do that. I never pulled
candy but once and it was such fun. Would
your mother mind having me around?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

Immediately the kitchen was invaded by
several of the girls, but all except Louise came
back for the game. Ted, thereupon, told the
“Don” to “call time,” and he vanished in the
direction of the kitchen, while a few smiles
were exchanged among those that were left.
“Ted will know how to boil candy for taffy after
this,” said Kathryn Allen.

“Well, somebody has to try and taste it.”
smiled Betty.

“Everybody ready!” called the “Don,” quite
at his ease by this time and with a real home
atmosphere back of him. Had he not been the
only one of them invited to the Thanksgiving
dinner? And Mr. Lee had not known then that
he was a football player, either. “Don” was
not aware that that fact would have made no
difference to Mr. Lee, one way or another,
though he was not opposed to the game.

“Five minutes, Louise Madison said,” he continued.
“I will now announce the words. No
proper names, or foreign words, Louise says.
It’s ‘Lyon High School.’”

The scribbling began. “Can you use slang?”
inquired Brad.

“Better not.”

“Why isn’t there an ‘e’ or a ‘t’ in it?” remarked
Janet. “I could make so many more.”

Carolyn was writing fast and furiously. “Oh,
give us five minutes more, so we can really
*think* on each letter!” she begged.

“Of course a girl will beat,” said Chauncey.
“They’re so much better in English!” Chauncey
was pretending to scratch his head and think.
In reality he was too lazy to bother with a game
he did not enjoy, though too polite to beg off.
He had sixteen words and that was enough. He
bet nobody else had “solo.”

But Chauncey was right on the girls’ having
the most words. Several boys had twenty words
in the five minutes, but the girls made a business
of it and Kathryn Allen had the largest number,
though Andy Sanford, who was on the staff of
the school paper, came within two of her number,
forty-five.

“How did you do it so fast, Kathryn?” asked
Mary Emma.

“I just went lickity-cut in any old order till
I got through the letters that way. Then I went
back again and did a little thinking that time
and had the other few minutes to do it in. I
took *ly* and *li* and *lo*, and did the same way with
all the letters.”

“Did anybody else get *solo*?” asked Chauncey.

Alas, Kathryn had that, also *holy*, of which
Chauncey had not thought.

A delicious odor of boiling syrup was commented
upon by several. Louise, carrying the
glass in which she had just tested the candy,
came in to inquire who had the most words and
how many. “All right, Kathryn gets the prize.
Ted, *where’s* that prize?”

From the kitchen Ted appeared, hunting in
his pocket for something.

“Nobody said there was to be any prize.
That’s not fair,” said Sim, grinning.

“Would you have worked harder, Sim?” Ted
inquired. “Here it is, Kathryn,” and he handed
her a long, slim package tied with a blue ribbon.
They all watched while Kathryn took the ribbon
and tissue paper from what was so evidently a
gift “of pencils. Two five centers, Kathryn,” said
Ted. “May they bring you to fame.”

“You did well, Kathryn,” said Louise. “Somebody
got fifty at a senior party the other day,
but I’m not sure but we had more time.”

“Help me, Andy,” said Kathryn, “and let’s
see how many we can get. Please give me all
the papers, so we can compare.” Consequently,
while Ted, accused of “licking his chops” over
all the candy he was tasting, followed Louise
out to the kitchen, and somebody started up the
music again, Kathryn and Andy, helped by
Betty, who gathered up all the other efforts,
made a fairly full list. “I had just started on
the s-h’s,” said Andy. A little later, after
working as much out themselves as they felt
like doing and comparing their papers, they announced
that they could read what they had
if any one wanted to hear.

*“Let’s* hear them, Andy,” called Chauncey
from near the piano. “How many words can
the experts make out of the old school name?”

“Leaving out abbreviations, plurals, and odd words, here they are:
*lying*, *lingo*, *lion*, *lo*, *log*,
*loch*, *loo*, *loon*, *loin*; *yon*,
*yo-ho*; *O*, *oh*, *on*, *oil*, *oily*,
*only*; *no*, *nigh*, *noisy*; *high*, *ho*,
*hog*, *hill*, *hilly*, *holy*, *his*,
*hollo*, *holly*; *I*, *is*, *in*, *ill*,
*illy*, *inch*, *inly*; *go*, *gill*,
*gin*; *scion*, *shiny*, *shin*, *shy*,
*si*, *sigh*, *sign*, *silo*, *silly*,
*sill*, *sin*, *sing*, *sling*, *soil*,
*solo*, *soon*, *song*, *son*, *sol*,
*so*; *chic*, *chill*, *chilly*, *chin*,
*cling*, *clog*, *cog*, *coil*, *coin*,
*colon*, *con*, *colony*, *coo*, *cool*,
*coolly*, *coon*, *cosy*, *coy*–and we forgot
*lynch, shoo* and *shooing*, and Andy says that *colin*
is another word for *quail* and that *shoon* is in the
dictionary. So that’s over eighty and pretty good, we think.”

Chauncey started a mild applause and remarked
that Andy and Kathryn would probably
teach English some day.

“Not on your life,” said Andy, “though I may
run a paper at that!”

Mrs. Lee could not help wondering if every
one would be careful not to drop his candy
while it was in the process of being pulled, but
she said nothing and provided plenty of greased
receptacles. Ted and Louise started several
other quiet games while the candy was getting
to the proper temperature. Then they began
to try a small portion.

“How many want to pull?” asked Ted. Every
one wanted to try “just a little bit,” which was
well, or the supply would not have been sufficient.
Those who had never pulled candy
before were instructed, that there should be no
sticky or slippery masses clinging more unhappily
than wet dough to the greased hands–after
a great performance of hand-washing in
the kitchen.

All this made much laughter and general
merriment, not to mention certain antics of Ted
and Harry and a few of the younger boys. But
no one tried any “sticky” tricks, as Betty put it;
for once upon a time, Dick had come home from
a party with his hair full of taffy, horrible
dictu!

In various stages of whiteness, the separate
pieces of taffy were carefully laid upon the
owner’s saucer or plate, with a clean white label
bearing the “name of the author,” said Betty.
Much had been eaten during the pulling, for some
“preferred their taffy hot,” they claimed; but
each was to take a little home, to prove that they
had pulled it, Ted said. Oiled paper would be
in demand, thought Mrs. Lee, who hunted up a
roll to have ready.

But the ice-cream had arrived. The big white
cake was cut, also a loaf of fruit cake; and in
the chairs which had been gathered up and
brought to the front of the house with the appearance
of the guests, the girls and boys sat
to eat slowly the cold cream, enjoy their cake
and lay the foundations of future friendships
or cement those already formed. The high
school “case” between Ted Dorrance and Louise
Madison was not particularly serious in its outlook;
for Ted, like many boys, was admiring a
girl older than himself just now, but some
demure young miss of a younger class, or not
in his school at all, was likely to take his later
attention.

CHAPTER XII: A CHANGE OF PLAN
=============================

“Is this Mr. Gwynne’s residence?” asked
Betty, a little timid, for a deep masculine voice
had answered her ring at the telephone.

“Yes,” the response came, pleasantly.

“May I speak to Carolyn, please? It is Betty
Lee.”

“I’ll call Carolyn.” There was a few moments
of waiting.

“’Lo, Bettykins. I was just going to call
you.”

“Were you? What were you going to tell
me?”

“You say what *you* were going to first.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Please.”

“Well, though I just hate so to tell you what
I’m going to.”

“So do I hate to tell you!”

Betty’s little laugh, came to Carolyn over the
wire.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if it is about the same
thing! Why Carolyn, I’m just sick about it,
but I don’t see how we can come to your house
tonight. Father has to have a conference or
something tonight down town and can’t drive
us out to your place. He’s staying down for
dinner somewhere, you know. So there’s no
one to take us and Mother doesn’t think it’s
safe for us to go on the car and then walk as
far as we’d have to, especially coming home.”

“That would be all right with our putting you
on the car here. But really, Betty, it is a sort
of relief, because I was wondering how to tell
you that I can’t have the party at all! Sister’s
having the house both nights, and besides, I was
going to have you at least taken back home, so
your father wouldn’t have to come for you, but
the cars will be in use, too. It was too bad of
my sister not to tell me and Mother did not
happen to say anything till this morning when
she was asking my sister what she wanted for
decorations. I said, ‘Why, Mother, didn’t you
tell me I could have a party?’ and Mother looked
startled. ‘Why so I did! I hope you haven’t
everybody invited!’

“So then I made it as nice for her as I could
and said I thought I could change it to an afternoon
one, and Betty, since you had that
gorgeous party at your house, won’t you let me
have you and some of the other girls at our
house Saturday, tomorrow afternoon? Please.
I’ve telephoned the *boys* that my party had to
be postponed, so this will be a ‘hen party.’ I’ll
have some sort of a party in the Christmas vacation,
perhaps, to make it up to the boys, not
to mention liking the fun myself.

“Will you mind *awfully*, Betty?” Carolyn’s
voice was both regretful and persuasive.

“Why–no, Carolyn–only it isn’t necessary
for you to have us at all, you know, and I’ve
invited all the other girls.”

“I know how we can fix that, easy as pie,
Betty. I’ll call all of them up–I know whom
you were going to have, you know, and I’ll tell
them that you and I are entertaining together
at our house!”

“We-ll, but you’ll have to let me really help,
you know, get the refreshments and everything.”

“I’ll see about that–there will be such oodles
around, with Sister’s two parties, and we’ll
have all the benefits of her spuzzy decorations
and won’t hurt a thing, you know. Let’s have
it a thimble party. Didn’t I see you making
something for Christmas?”

“Yes. I brought a hanky I’m hemstitching
for Mother in school and worked on it a little
while in between lunch and class. It’s so hard
to get a chance without her catching me at it at
home.”

“Bring it along and finish it up, then, Betty.
Is it settled, then?”

“Are you *sure* you want it that way?”

“Sure; and Mother will feel better about it,
too.”

“Very well, Carolyn. I’m sure Janet and Sue
will be delighted to come, and of course I shall.”

Thus it happened that Betty and her guests
enjoyed an excellent moving picture, censored
by Mrs. Lee, on Friday afternoon, with attendant
pleasure of favorite sundaes and shopping
in the big stores; and they had the evening
quietly at home, early to bed this time, to catch
up for the night before. “It is a good deal of
fun with those boys,” said Janet, “but I think
that it will be more *restful* tomorrow at Carolyn’s
without them.”

“And you will love Carolyn’s home, Janet,”
replied Betty, though laughing at Janet’s expression.

A soft snow fell that night. In the morning
the girls looked out upon a beautiful world of
white, soon to be spoiled in the city by the
traffic and the soot from the good furnace fires
that kept the people warm. But at Carolyn’s
that afternoon little had occurred to lessen the
loveliness of the snow scene. Beautiful evergreens
drooped a little with the weight upon
their branches. Drifts piled here and there by
bushes that seemed to bear feathery blossoms.
It was the first “real snow,” Dick said, and welcome,
particularly to the children.

Betty had not expected so many girls, but
here were not only those whom she had invited
to her expected party but a number of others.
It was very satisfactory. Now Janet and Sue
would know just about all the girls that she
wanted them to meet.

Opinions might differ about the afternoon’s
being “restful.” But it was as restful as girls
of high school age would be likely to want it
to prove. Janet and Sue were impressed with
Carolyn’s lovely home, inside and out, and declared
that seeing it with the snow must be
almost as good as seeing it with its flowers.
Carolyn brought all the girls whom they had not
met to each of them and although they did settle
down with their bits of fancy-work or Christmas
presents, Carolyn had them change their seats
in order that groups of different girls might be
together. Some things made in the arts and
crafts department of the school could be brought
to be worked on and Betty saw articles that she
“longed to make,” she said. Janet was always
a little quiet when she was first with girls
strange to her, but her lack of conversation was
not noticeable in the babel of voices after the
girls were fairly launched upon various topics
that interested them.

“Yes,” replied Betty to one, “I’ve met the
mysterious ‘Don.’ His real name is Ramon, but
the boys all call him ‘Don’ now, I’ve noticed, so
I suppose we might as well. He doesn’t mind,
he said.”

“Did you hear that, Lucille? Betty Lee
knows the ‘Don.’ Well, what is he, anyhow?
Spanish, as they say. I always think that the
boys may be ‘kiddin’ us, you know.”

“He really is part Spanish and part Polish
and some of his people were Hungarian, at
least they lived in Hungary for a while and he
said they were ‘nice people.’”

“How did you know so much? Is there anything
mysterious about him?”

“I was just talking to him one time. He
doesn’t seem the least bit mysterious to me,
but I don’t think that he has anybody related
to him in this country. He just boards somewhere,
I suppose.”

“Then that isn’t a bit interesting.”

“Oh, yes, it is, Lucille,” spoke Peggy Pollard.
“Chet Dorrance said that the Don told Ted a
little bit one time and there’s somebody that’s
either after him or that he’s after, I think.”

“My, isn’t that news for you?” laughed
Lucille. “Peggy, you’re always so clear!”

“Well, do you suppose that Ted would tell
what the boy told him in confidence?”

“Ted must have told something.”

“Couldn’t Chet overhear it, maybe?”

“Then he is really mysterious, you think,
Peggy.”

“Yes. I asked him last night if he *was* mysterious
and he said he was!”

There was a general laugh at this. “Peggy’s
drawing on her imagination,” said Mary Emma.

“Where did the Don take you last night,
Peggy?” queried Lucille, “to a picture show?”

“No, but he was at the same surprise party
I went to,” and Peggy gave a mirthful glance
in Carolyn’s direction.

“Well, if Don as the boys call him isn’t mysterious,
you are, so let’s change the subject.”

Peggy had thought that with so many other
girls, about twenty in all, Betty might not like
to have the surprise party talked over; or it
might be that some one would feel hurt at not
having been included in the sudden affair. For
these reasons she was quite willing to have the
subject changed.

“Wouldn’t this be a delicious night to go sledding,
girls?” she asked, looking out from the
large window near which she sat toward the
broad expanse of snow that covered the lawn
and stretched beyond the clumps of bushes and
trees over the spacious grounds.

“Too soft, I’m afraid, Peggy,” said Mary
Emma Howland. “It didn’t melt, though, when
the sun came out. I wonder if it would pack
and make enough. The wind had swept the
ground pretty bare at our house, but hasn’t out
here.”

“Perhaps it didn’t snow everywhere alike,”
brightly suggested Kathryn Allen. “Sometimes
it rains out in our suburb when my father says
there isn’t a particle of rain down town.”

“The paper says that there is a blizzard out
West,” said Carolyn. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful
if we did have sledding, next week anyhow?”

Betty explained to Janet and Sue what she
had mentioned before, that the winters were
considerably more mild here than their own and
that everybody rejoiced when there were winter
sports, making the most of them; but none of
the three thought of any particular good time
as on its way to them because of this unexpected
snow. Soon came the pretty refreshments, when
all the girls laid aside their work to enjoy them.

They were asked to go into another room,
apparently a breakfast room, or a dining room
on a small scale, Betty thought, where a round
table was set for them. There a tiny turkey,
which was a container for candy or nuts, stood
at each place, connected with the central lights
overhead by a gay ribbon. Betty’s place card
bore an Indian on snowshoes, a wild turkey
over one shoulder and a bow in one hand.

“I ’spect there’s some turkey in this ‘chicken
salad,’ don’t you, Betty?” said Janet next to
her.

“Carolyn *always* has such lovely things,” replied
Betty, though she had been entertained
there but once before. But this was perfect for
an “afternoon tea.” Instead of tea they drank
cocoa, however, and last they were served to
tiny ice-cream roses and delicious little cakes
with pink, white or chocolate frosting.

“I’ve done nothing but eat good things since
I came to this city,” Sue declared after they
came home, “and we’ve had enough different
kinds of fun to last all winter! No, thank you,
Mrs. Lee, I don’t believe we can eat a speck of
supper, or dinner, whichever you call it here.”

“We might sit down with them, girls,” Betty
suggested, “for we didn’t really have a heavy
meal at Carolyn’s!”

But Betty had scarcely gotten seated at the
home dinner table than she rose to answer the
telephone. “Oh, who is it? I can’t quite understand.
The telephone buzzes a little. Now
I get it–oh, yes, Chet! Honestly? Why, yes,
that would be great fun. I don’t know, though.”

Betty listened a little. “Wait a minute. I’ll
have to ask Mother and see what the girls say.
Please hold the ’phone a minute.”

The telephone was in the hall and Betty
rushed around through the living room to where
the family were. “Mother!” she began excitedly,
“that was Chet Dorrance and he wants to
know if we girls can go bob-sled riding tonight.
It’s freezing like everything and the boys have
got water poured on some hill–this afternoon,
you know, and the snow all packed down!”

“What boys are going and what hill is it,
Betty?” inquired her father.

“Chet said that he and Chauncey Allen and
Budd LeRoy would come after us. We can take
the car, the street-car, he said, and get off almost
right at the hill, anyhow the place where
it is, one of the houses, I suppose, maybe a
place like Carolyn’s.”

“Betty, I can’t have you start in to go out
with the boys in the evening.”

“But this isn’t like that, Mother. It’s a big
crowd, not so very big perhaps, but at least
two bob-sleds and we take turns.”

“Sure the hill doesn’t deposit you near some
car line or shoot you across one? I saw a kiddie
nearly killed this afternoon shooting across a
road, down hill, on his sled.” Mr. Lee was interposing
this remark.

Betty looked worried. “Chet is waiting on
the line, Mother. Oh, I do want to go!”

“Suppose I talk to him, then, Betty,” suggested
Mrs. Lee. “I don’t want to keep you
from any pleasure, but I want to make sure
that it is safe, you know. Yes, a crowd to enjoy
the sport is all right if they are careful
boys, not reckless.”

“You met them all here, Mother.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Lee was on her way to the hall.

“This is Betty’s mother speaking,” she said,
taking the receiver. “Betty is anxious to accept
your kind invitation, but I want to inquire about
the safety of the sport. Where is the hill located
and just what are you going to do?”

“Aw, Mother’ll spoil it all, Betty,” said Dick,
who was listening, while Betty stood half-way
between hall and the dining room double doors.
Betty frowned and shook her head at her
brother, who passed his plate for a second helping
of meat and potato. Dick was going out
himself with his sled and the hill had been
passed upon by his father, though Dick in his
peregrinations did not always ask permission.
That was one of Mr. Lee’s little worries for
fear that in a city he could not so easily know
just where his son was spending his leisure
hours or whether his company was all that it
should be. In the country town there was just
as much danger of contamination, but they knew
so well what was to be avoided and what companions
were safe and who were unsafe.

Mother, however, had not “spoiled it all.”
She came back smiling and put her arm about
Betty to lead her in the room with her. “Chet
explained it all satisfactorily, and I am rather
glad to know that Ted Dorrance and a group
of the older high school boys and girls will
be there. There is a ‘sled load,’ I understand,
though that used to mean a different sort of
sled, in the country. Moreover, it is on the Dorrance
place, and it may be that you can be called
for. I think myself that the street car is safer,
however, and so I told him.”

“Mother!” exclaimed Betty, half embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, child. Parents have to
manage some of these things. I liked Chet and he
is not offended. It is most likely that his own
parents have a few remarks to make occasionally.
Chet is not old enough to drive a car,
Betty.”

“Well, I’m obliged to you anyway, Mother,
for letting us go. Did you ring off?”

“Yes, I never thought that Chet might like to
speak to you again.”

“Your mother isn’t yet used to having young
men ring up and talk to her daughter,” mischievously
said Mr. Lee.

“And I hope that I shall *not* get used to it
for some time,” firmly replied his wife. “Betty’s
not going to run around regardless; and I’m
so sure of her that I know she does not want
to do it either.”

“I’m perfectly willing to wait until I grow
up a little more,” said Betty. “But this is different.”

“Yes, this is different.”

It was different. Betty never forgot this
first winter fun of her freshman year, the night
so beautiful, the snow so white, the little company
so gay. Moonlight made the most of the
scene. It was the first time that Betty had seen
the Dorrance place, rather the house, which
stood back, facing a road which was marked
“Private” and wound around a short ascent to
where two houses were built, some distance
apart, upon a hill in a thick grove of trees. But
the hill began to descend where the houses were
and only the trees and chimneys could be seen
from the main road where ran the street cars.
A path had been well cleared and machines had
gone over the road since the snow had fallen.
Escorted by the three boys, the three girls ascended
the hill after leaving the street car and
heard, while they talked, the merry laughter of
a group just preceding them.

“So this is where you live, Chet,” said Janet,
by this time well acquainted, for she and Chet
had pulled taffy together and joked each other
while they did it.

“Yes; it’s a bit of a climb for some folks,
but my mother uses the car most of the time
and I suppose it isn’t more than a good square’s
walk to the house. The hill we’re going to slide
on is the other side of the house. You see there’s
really a ravine there, but this hill is wide and
the way the ground slopes and humps around it
makes a good long hill of it. We’ve got it as
slick as can be and we’ll shoot across a narrow
brook at the foot. It’s good and frozen
tonight and getting colder. You’ll all come in
the house and meet Mother first. But we’re going
to make a big bonfire to get warm by and
Louise, Ted’s girl, you know, says we can roast
marshmallows the same as if it were summer.”

“So this is Betty Lee,” said pretty Mrs. Dorrance,
holding Betty’s hand a trifle longer, as
she was the last girl of the group. “Both Ted
and Chet have spoken of you. I am glad to
meet you and I hope that my boys can give all
you girls a good time tonight. I’ve cautioned
them to be careful of you.”

“Now, Mother!” cried Chet. “You don’t understand.
Of course we’ll take care of them,
but they’re pretty independent, too, and they’ll
tell us if they don’t want to do anything, at
least Louise will tell Ted!”

“I hope so.”

“We want to do what everybody does,” gently
said Betty, “and I’m sure the boys know about
the hill and everything, don’t they, Mrs. Dorrance?”

“I hope so,” whimsically replied Mrs. Dorrance,
who was timid about sports of all sorts,
though she rather liked this confidence in her
boys.

Then the fun began. The girls and boys in
warm sweaters and woollen caps gathered about
the bob sleds at the top of the hill. One with
Ted guiding and full of the older ones went first,
down, down around, up a little, swooping down
till it was lost to view and only the little squeals
and shrieks of excitement or a whoop from some
boy reached Betty’s ears.

“I’ll let you take this one down, Budd,” said
Chet. “Budd’s an expert, girls. Now not too
many. We’ve another right here and I’ll take
that first. Chauncey, watch how I take that
curve and you can take it down next time. Come
on, Betty, as soon as Budd’s sled goes and
rounds the curve all right we’ll start, I think.”

Shortly Betty found herself flying among the
shadows, through patches of moonlight, around
the breath-taking curve, shooting down a
straight, steep descent, holding tight, breathing
in the fresh, frosty air, happy as a bird. Again
and again they climbed and descended till they
were tired and lit the great pile prepared by
the boys in an open space. The flames shot up,
lighting the gay colors of the sweaters and coats,
the bright young faces and the snow man that
some one started to build while marshmallows
were really being toasted. A snowball fight or
two livened the scene for a little, and oh, how
surprised they all were, when some one looked at
a watch in the firelight and announced that it
was getting late.

“Don’t put on any more wood, boys,” said
Louise Madison. “I’ve only been able to toast
anything in this one corner as it is; and if it is
as late as that we’ll go in, for Mrs. Dorrance
will be calling us.”

As if the hour had been noted at just the right
time, some one came running out of the house
to tell the company that refreshments were
ready–and such funny ones, ordered by the
boys, no doubt, the two Dorrance boys that were
hosts. There were hot tea and bottles of pop,
hot “wieners” and fresh buns to put them in,
hot beans in tomato sauce, pickles, real spiced
home-made ones, and for dessert what Dick always
called “Wiggle,” jello or a kindred article,
this time holding an assortment of fresh fruit
together and served on a plate with an immense
piece of frosted spice cake.

Somebody, the cook, Betty supposed, stood
behind a long table by which they were to pass
in cafeteria style, each taking, as the cook indicated,
plate and silver and being served to
the variety of foods by Chet and Ted, who with
laughing faces had put on a white paper cap
and a white apron. These the two boys kept
on as they followed the rest into the dining
room, to which a maid beckoned them. But all
helpers disappeared at once. Mrs. Dorrance
only looked in upon them to see that they were
happy, and perhaps to assure Louise that the
chaperon was doing her duty in being about.
Jokes and fun and more hot things offered by
Chet and Ted completed the evening’s enjoyment.

“It’s too much for you to go home with us,
boys,” said Betty, rather thinking that she made
a “social blunder” by saying so, but feeling that
if they put her on the car she could see herself
and her friends home.

“Couldn’t think of anything else,” replied
Chet, guiding Janet down the rather slippery
hill at the front. “You don’t know how late and
dark it will be when we get off the car near
your house. The moon’s setting now, or else
there’s a cloud or two. Wouldn’t it be great if
we kept on having snow!”

“But dear sakes,” said Betty, “we’ll be in
school and have to study!”

“Not to *hurt*,” remarked Chauncey Allen.

CHAPTER XIII: BETTY MEETS TROUBLE
=================================

There are degrees of satisfaction or of disappointment,
but Betty Lee had never met what
she would consider real trouble connected with
her school life until after Christmas in her
freshman year.

The happy Thanksgiving vacation with Janet
and Sue as her guests came duly to a close after
a pleasant Sabbath during which they went to
Sabbath school and church and spent part of
the afternoon in wandering around the main art
gallery of the city, open to visitors. The girls
took an early morning train on Monday and
Betty, more or less upset by too many good
times, went back to school not feeling much like
study. But neither did any one else and the
teachers in the main, having had a good rest
themselves, seemed not to be too hard on any
one.

Betty, however, buckled down to the work of
what is always the hardest term of the year,
that before Christmas, and had many
delightful anticipations of that beautiful celebration.
They could not “go to Grandma’s” this year, but
they could and did enjoy Christmas day together.
Accustomed, now, to the demands of
the city school, she felt a real satisfaction in the
fact that her work was being well done and her
grades upon the cards such that she need not
feel ashamed.

There were many interesting distractions
toward Christmas and Betty joined the Girl Reserves,
the group that included freshmen in her
high school, in time to help with the Christmas
basket which was to go to make some one’s
Christmas brighter. The stores, with their fascinating
windows, the hurrying crowds of shoppers,
the entertainments and the Christmas
music, all had their accustomed charm; but
Betty’s vacation of only the one week, with an
extra week-end, was spent largely at home, for
none of the girls whom she knew well entertained
and were absorbed in home affairs.

Again it was hard to settle down to work, but
Betty was anxious to do well in the semester
examinations and worked particularly hard on
her Latin and mathematics. By some shifting
of pupils, Betty was now in the adorable Miss
Heath’s Latin class, though she had not begun
the year with her. Betty was always very shy
with her teachers and although Miss Heath was
most “human,” as Carolyn said, and friendly
with the girls and boys there was a certain
bound over which none of them stepped and
Betty never presumed even upon the privileges
which she might have enjoyed, in a chat or talk
or consultation. It was characteristic of her
family, perhaps, to be independent. Even at
home she always wanted to “get everything herself”
if she could, preferring to spend much
more time upon a problem rather than ask any
one for light upon it.

And now Miss Heath, gave them an examination
which they all felt was important. Indeed
she told them so. “It is going to help me find
out whether you have gotten the important
things that I have tried to teach you,” she said.
“As you know, I have emphasized some things.
Some things we have gone over again and again.
I see you smile, for you think that we have gone
over *everything* again and again. So we have.
But this may help you, too, in reviewing for
your semester finals. The questions for those I
do not make out, except in some line assigned to
me by the head of the department. This I call
a review examination and its results will be
most interesting to me. This is not to ‘scare’
you at all, and it will be recorded in my grade
book as an ordinary test, but I want you to *use
your brains* to the best of your ability. Day after
tomorrow, Thursday, at this hour, come prepared
for a test.”

The next day a strange teacher was at the
desk, a “substitute,” young and worried. The
boys who were in the habit of “acting up” performed
as far as they dared, Betty reported at
home; and the girls giggled, “because they
couldn’t help it. It was so funny.”

“You have to know how to manage the freshmen
in this school,” said Carolyn to Betty on
their way from the room. “I wonder if Miss
Heath will be back tomorrow. She looked half
sick yesterday and took some medicine as we
went out.”

“Did she? I didn’t notice. That is too bad.
I wonder if we’ll have the test, then.”

“Oh, of course. That would be the easiest
thing for a substitute to give and she wouldn’t
miss doing it, I should think. But perhaps,”
Carolyn hopefully added, “perhaps Miss Heath
couldn’t make out the questions.”

“She talked as if she had them already made
out,” thoughtfully returned Betty, determined
to go over all the vocabulary and the paradigms
hardest for her to remember. “I’m going to
put all the time I can on Latin tonight.”

“I’m not,” laughed a boy behind Betty, who
had caught her last words. “We have basketball
practice and I’m invited to a good show tonight.
Oh boy!”

Betty smilingly remarked that he’d better not
miss a little study even if he did know everything,
but the lad grinned and shook his head
as he passed her.

“I don’t like Jakey,” said Carolyn, as her
eyes followed him and the confused group of
boys and girls, passing and repassing in the
hall. “He’s smart as can be and gets along in
Latin better than I do, but there’s something
tricky about him once in awhile and he’s so terribly
conceited. He can’t stand it when you can
answer a question that he has missed or can’t
put up his hand for. I know. I’ve watched
him. Did you see those boys change their seats?
*She* didn’t know any better and they did it for
fun I suppose, just to do something.”

“Do you mean during class?”

“No. Just before class began. Jakey slid
into that one just behind you.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“*She* may, if they are in different seats tomorrow.”

-----

The zero hour came. Betty looked at the
questions on the board. Oh, they weren’t so bad.
It was fair. There were the special things that
Miss Heath had emphasized, some of the hardest
to get, to be sure, but Betty had studied hard
and she had freshened up on the vocabulary
lists and some of the rules of syntax, for she
dreaded the translations, sentences that Miss
Heath would make up, some of them at least.

Betty’s cheeks were hot, but she worked
away. Mercy, her fountain pen had given out.
She took a pencil and found its point blunt.
Hastily she traveled to the pencil sharpener and
put on it as sharp a point as possible. Miss
Heath did not want them to use pencil for examinations
if it were not necessary; but this
wasn’t the semester final, when Carolyn said
you *had* to use ink, they said. But she’d better
sharpen two pencils, perhaps.

Betty scarcely saw the rest of the scholars
as she returned to her desk for another pencil,
so absorbed was she in thoughts of the examination
questions. There was a whisking of something
on several desks as she and some one else
passed down parallel aisles at the same time,
she to return, the other to go to the pencil sharpener.
As she sat down and looked off thoughtfully
at the board, the teacher was looking in
her direction and two of the boys were chuckling
behind her.

The teacher rapped for order and Betty, turning,
caught a glimpse of Peggy, who was looking
daggers at somebody behind Betty. But
Betty was finishing her paper. The time was
nearly up. She read over what she had, put in
a long mark over a vowel in one of the declensions,
looked for other omissions or mistakes,
and puzzled over her last English to Latin sentence.
She hoped it was right. There went the
bell. Betty made ready her paper. Now it was
handed in. Now they were in the hall. The
test was over. What a relief!

“Did you see what those boys were doing?”
asked Peggy, as Betty and Carolyn caught up
with her at the door of the room where they
were entering for another class.

“No, what was it?” questioned Carolyn, but
the teacher just then beckoned Betty, to give
her back a paper that she had failed to return
with the rest given out to the class, and Betty
missed Peggy’s reply.

“That was a very good paper, Betty,” said
her teacher. “I found it with some sophomore
papers where it had gotten by mistake.”

Betty was disappointed to find only an eighty-eight
for her grade, but she knew that anything
over eighty was good with Miss Smith. Tests
were popular just now at Lyon High. All too
soon would come the semester finals!

-----

The busy week ended and Monday came
again. The same young substitute was in Miss
Heath’s place. She was “terribly cross” with
the boys, Peggy said, but she didn’t blame her.
Four or five of the freshman boys tried to see
how far they could go and went a little too far
for their own good, for when there was some
chalk throwing at the blackboard, during written
exercises there, the teacher called several
boys by name to take their seats and see her
after class. “If any one else longs to be sent
to detention, he or she may just keep on with
the fun as these have done!”

There was an immediate cessation of performances,
for D. T., as it was called, was not
popular.

“By the way,” the teacher added, “I should
like to see after class for a moment Betty Lee
and Peggy Pollard.”

Betty, who was at the board, pausing in her
work to listen to the startling interruptions, was
surprised to hear her own name. What could
the teacher want with her? But after a surprised
look at the somewhat grim face of an
otherwise attractive young woman, Betty
turned again to the board and finished the verb
synopsis on which she was engaged. The class
work went on as usual, with correction and assignments
by the teacher, recitation and occasional
question on the part of the class.

The boys who had been told to stay remained
in their seats at the close of class and Betty,
raising her eyebrows at Peggy, gathered up her
books and went to one of the front seats to
wait the teacher’s pleasure. She felt in a hurry,
for she was due at study hall on this day and
it was on the third floor, quite a climb from the
basement floor.

With eyes demurely on her books, she listened
to a brief and sharp rebuke delivered to the
boys, who scurried out of the room as soon as
they were ordered to “detention” that evening,
immediately after the close of school. At “detention”
some victim among the teachers, who
took turns at the disagreeable task, was in
charge of a room devoted to the derelicts from
duty who had from one cause or another been
assigned to an extra hour in study after their
classmates and others had gone. How long that
extra hour! And when there was “doubly
D. T.” or detention for several days, alas!

That Betty was to receive any rebuke was the
last thing that she expected, though she was
nervously wondering for what she was asked to
stay. She looked inquiringly, and in Betty’s unconsciously
sweet way, as the boys disappeared,
and was beckoned to a seat in front of the desk.
“Come also, Peggy Pollard,” said the teacher,
Miss Masterman. “I believe this is Peggy, isn’t
it?”

“Yes’m, and that’s Betty Lee.”

“Peggy, did you exchange papers with any
one Thursday?”

“No’m,” replied Peggy, looking surprised.

“Did you communicate with any one?”

“No’m.”

“Think a minute. Are you sure that you did
not say anything?”

“No’m–oh, yes, I did say something, but it
wasn’t anything about the examination. One of
the boys was acting smarty and I told him to
stop it.”

“Just what did you say?”

“It wasn’t very polite,” said Peggy, her face
very red, but her lips curving into a smile. “I
told him to mind his own affairs and leave me
alone. I was mad for a moment.”

“Are you sure that was all of the communication?”

“Yes’m, perfectly sure. I was too *busy*!”

“Very well. You may go, Peggy. That is
all.”

The teacher’s face was calm and cold as she
turned to Betty. Peggy had flown from the room
in relief and Betty heard her unlocking her
locker outside in the hall. She wondered if
Peggy would wait.

“Please wait here a few minutes, Betty Lee,”
said Miss Masterman. Betty, wondering, waited.
She didn’t like the way the teacher looked at
her. What *could* she have done to offend her.
It couldn’t be anything like what Peggy was
kept for. Why, she’d been “busy,” too, and had
scarcely noticed anything except the questions
and her paper. Besides, this teacher hadn’t
walked around like Miss Heath, to go to the
rear sometimes and know just what everybody
was doing. She hadn’t seemed to be a bit suspicious
that day. Miss Masterman now left the
room.

In the next room her voice was to be heard.
Why, she was telephoning–the office, Betty supposed.
Mer\ *cee*! what in the world was the
matter? Betty’s hands were cold. She grew
more scared every minute. Perhaps something
was wrong at home and Miss Masterman had
gotten word. No, she had looked at her as if
she had done something. Perhaps she’d have
to go to detention, if not tonight, then tomorrow!

Betty unpiled her books and piled them up
again. She would leave all but her algebra in
her locker tonight. There! Miss Masterman
was coming back. She walked to her desk, took
up a book, looked at it, put it down, gathered
up some papers and put them inside the desk,
went after her wraps and laid them across one
of the desks. She was almost as uneasy as Betty
felt. Probably she wanted to get home, though
it was still the last period.

At last she said, “I suppose you are anxious
to know why I am keeping you. You are to
go to the office of the assistant principal and he
is busy with some other pupils still. He or
someone will telephone me when he is ready for
you. He seems to have a good deal of business
tonight.” Miss Masterman smiled disagreeably.
“It is in connection with cheating at examination
that he wants to see you,” and Miss Masterman
looked keenly at Betty as she made this
statement quickly in a sharp tone.

Betty gasped. “Why, Miss Masterman! I
don’t know anything about any cheating in the
examination!”

“So?” coolly replied Miss Masterman. “Tell
that to the assistant principal, then.”

“Do–do you mean that you think I *cheated*?”
vigorously asked Betty.

“I think that very thing.”

“Then you are mistaken, Miss Masterman,”
said Betty, firmly and with some dignity. “I
hope to be able to prove it.”

The telephone bell rang just then and Miss
Masterman answered it, saying, “at last,” as she
crossed to the room.

Betty, too, thought “at last.” She was trembling
from head to foot; but a little anger at the
injustice of the charge sustained her and she
remembered the kind face of the assistant principal.
He had some children. Maybe he would
listen to her. But what could she say, only tell
him that she did not cheat. How did they think
she could? Miss Heath would have called the
assistant principal by his name in speaking of
him–oh, if only Miss Heath had been there at
that examination!

CHAPTER XIV: SENT TO THE PRINCIPAL
==================================

Betty went to her locker, put away all her
books and took out her wraps. She would *never*
come back if they thought she cheated! As in a
dream she mounted the stairs and rounded the
hall toward the office of the assistant principal.
Several pupils were about the central hall, some
of them leaving the office toward which she was
making her way. Jakey Bechstein was slapping
a cap upon his quite good-looking head and
starting for the big outer doors with two companions.
His big dark eyes were upon the nearest
boy and he did not see Betty, though he
closely passed her.

“What did he say to you, Jakey?” the boys
was asking. It was one of the other freshman
boys.

“’Lo, Betty, going home?” asked a girl behind
her. Betty turned and waved pleasantly to
the girl, whom she knew slightly. “Not now,
Adelaide–sorry. I have to stop at the office
a minute.”

“Been into mischief, I suppose,” laughed
Adelaide.

“Of course,” returned Betty, knowing that
Adelaide was only in fun. But alas, it was
only too true that something was wrong.

As Betty entered the office a boy was just
leaving the desk, going out with tense mouth and
a frown. But the assistant principal looked up
in a friendly way at Betty, whose face showed
plainly her troubled mind.

“Sit down, Betty. This is Betty Lee, I suppose.”
Mr. Franklin, who as assistant principal
usually saw all the offenders in school discipline
before his chief, now came from behind
his desk and drew up a chair not far from
Betty’s. He looked tired as he stretched out a
pair of long legs, crossed his feet and leaned
back, one hand reaching the desk, the other
dropped in his lap. Here was only an innocent-looking
child, whom he did not recall meeting.

“Yes, sir; I am Betty Lee. Miss Masterman
told me that I was to come here.”

“M-m. Tell you why you were to come?”

“She said that she thought I–I cheated in
examination.”

The tears which Betty thought she would be
able to keep back sprang quickly to her eyes,
but she set her lips, wiped her eyes hastily, and
continued. “But I did not cheat and I did not
see it if the whole room cheated. I tried to make
a good paper for Miss Heath!”

“You like Miss Heath, do you?”

“Oh, yes sir! If she had only–” Betty
stopped, for she would not imply anything
against the substitute.

“Sometimes it is a temptation to try to do well
for some one.” Mr. Franklin was looking at her
kindly, but soberly.

“I’ve been taught that it is wrong to cheat,
sir; and I don’t believe it pays in the long run.
Father says that the teacher usually finds out
what you know or don’t know.”

“Usually, but not always when there are so
many. Tell me about it, Betty.”

“But there isn’t anything to tell! I can’t
think why anybody *thinks* I cheated. I worked
hard on the review and went over the things I
was weakest on, I thought, and ran over the
vocabulary we’ve had, the night before. But
I’m pretty good on vocabulary.”

“Girls sometimes are,” joked Mr. Franklin,
at which Betty took heart.

“Won’t you tell me what happened, Mr.
Franklin, to make her think I cheated?”

“Not yet. Near whom did you sit, Betty?”

“Why, Dora Jenkins sits in front of me; and
on the aisle next, to the right, Mickey Carlin is
across from Dora and Sim, James Simmonds,
I mean, sits across from me and on the other
aisle, across from me, there’s Sally Wright, a
colored girl, and Peggy Pollard back of her.
The alphabet is all mixed up in this class.”

“Who is back of you?”

“Andy–oh, no, Mr. Franklin, it was all different
that day. I remember the boys changed–but
I shouldn’t tell you!”

“Go on. One of the boys told me that they
changed seats for fun on the day you had a
substitute and it was not an exactly criminal
act, though I don’t stand for it. Then they
didn’t change back?”

“I suppose they thought they’d better not
since she had seen them there, though I imagine
Miss Heath’s roll is made out that way.”

“Never mind. Haven’t you the least remembrance
who sat behind you or to the side back?”

“Seems to me it was Jakey Bechstein behind
me and the boys seemed to be all mixed up
around there. But I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Did you leave your seat at any time?”

Betty thought. “Yes sir. I have an extra
fountain pen and I thought I’d better fill it when
I was partly through. But the ink at the desk
was out. Then the ink in my pen that I was
using gave out and I went up, twice, to sharpen
pencils, thinking that I would need sharp points
to make it legible enough for Miss Heath. She
is always talking about our making our test
papers especially legible.”

Mr. Franklin smiled. “Sensible woman. Well,
Betty, I will tell you that there are three papers
almost exactly alike and one of them is yours.
Do you suspect any one of copying from you?”

“No, sir. If Jakey was where he could do it,
he would never have to because he is as smart
as any one in the class and almost never doesn’t
have his lesson.”

“In other words, he almost always does,”
smiled Mr. Franklin. “I am afraid we can not
go by the usual order of seats, but I am finding
out where the persons involved sat. You will
admit that where papers are so alike there is
room for suspicion.”

“Yes, sir. Is Miss Masterson correcting, or
will Miss Heath do it?”

“Miss Masterson has read the papers carefully
and discovered the similarity. Miss Heath
will be back tomorrow. Every one has denied
copying.”

Betty looked at Mr. Franklin and shook her
head soberly. “Of course,” she said, “and I’m
only one of them, I suppose. Well, Mr.
Franklin, I’m not going to stay in school if any one
thinks I’m that kind of a girl!”

“Do you think that you would be allowed to
drop out, Betty? Think this over tonight and
come to see me tomorrow at the same time. I
may have more light on it–and you may think
of something to tell me.”

Betty flushed at this. He meant if she had
some confession to make! But Mr. Franklin
was rising. She was dismissed, she saw. “I
will come,” she said and went out, out of the
main doors, too, down the steps, on to catch a
street car home.

All the way Betty sat almost unconscious of
the other people on the car, for at the first
glance she saw no one whom she knew. From
the first the incidents of the last few hours and
those of the examination went through her
mind. She tried to gather up a few fleeting impressions.
Yes, it was Jakey who sat behind
her, though it was unusual to see him there.
That was why she could recall it, she supposed.
He had grinned at her as she came back from
the pencil sharpener. And there had been some
whisking of something somewhere, just before
Peggy had been seen to glare at one of the
boys. That was probably what he was doing,
taking something from her desk or teasing her
in some way. My, it was a puzzle. But it was
simply terrible to be under suspicion. Could it
really be Betty Lee that was going through this?
And the old nursery rhyme ran through her
head:

    | “But when the old woman got home in the dark,
    | Up jumped the little dog and he began to bark!
    | He began to bark
    | And she began to cry,
    | ’Goodness, mercy on me, this is none of I!’”

When she reached home she tried to say this
to her dear mother, who was sitting by the window
mending an almost hopeless stocking of
Amy Lou’s. But when she got to the “this is
none of I,” her lips quivered and she ran to
bury her head in the comfortable lap and sob
out the story as soon as she could control herself
sufficiently. Here was some one who would
take her word!

“Dear child, dear child!” soothingly said her
mother. “Don’t take it too seriously. I know
how hard it is when a young person cannot
justify herself to schoolmates or friends, but
surely you have already made a good
impression on your teachers. Don’t you think that
when Miss Heath comes back tomorrow she will
handle the matter? You said that the assistant
principal is well liked and that the pupils think
him fair. I think that they will probe the matter
a little farther.”

“But what more can they *do*?” asked Betty
from the floor, her head against her mother’s
knee. “There are those three papers just alike!”

“And you wrote yours out of your own head.
Stick to that. Besides, your father and I believe
in you. Haven’t we seen your lips moving
in all the declensions and conjugations so far,
while you committed them, and haven’t I asked
you more than once the Latin or English words
of your vocabularies?”

“You have, sweetest mother that there is!”
Betty drew a long sigh. “Anyhow it doesn’t
do any good to weep and wail, does it? I believe
I’ll call up Peggy and see what she knows
and tell her my tale of woe. I didn’t tell you
that she had to stay after school, too, and got
asked questions.”

“Are you sure that you’d better, child?”

“Call Peggy? oh, yes, Mother. Peggy would
be sure to ask me tomorrow morning what Miss
Masterson said. I’ll bet she’s aching to call me
up right now!”

Mrs. Lee’s face grew serious as soon as Betty
left her to call up her friend. She was more
disturbed by Betty’s news than she would have
admitted to the child herself. Betty was so
comparatively new to the school with no background
of long acquaintance as in the old school.
She had more than half a mind to go to school
with her tomorrow. But she thought better of
that. Let them work it out first. If necessary, she
or Betty’s father would go to see the principal.

Betty was laughing now over something
funny exchanged between the girls. “But it’s
really very serious,” she heard Betty say next.
“I dread to go to school tomorrow. Tell me
ev’rything that you can remember about that
examination. You wouldn’t mind telling the
principal what you just told me, would you?”

The answer must have been satisfactory, for
Betty chuckled. The subject must have changed
then, for Betty made some remark not connected
with this recent affair and shortly the telephone
conversation closed.

CHAPTER XV: DETECTIVE WORK
==========================

In the good, steadfast atmosphere of a sensible
home, whose heads were not easily stampeded,
Betty felt better. Father was told quietly
by Mother. But Betty’s sleep was troubled that
night and it was with many an inward qualm
that she started to school the next morning. She
intended to go on through the day, as her
mother advised her, with as much quiet dignity
as she could command, discussing the matter
with no one.

Peggy, however, referred to the conversation
of the day before when she met her by her
locker, next to Betty’s. “The boys *were* up to
something, as I told you. It wasn’t Jakey but
the boy behind him, Sam, that I was glaring at,
as you said. He tried to snatch a piece of paper
off my desk, a blank sheet, it was, and I thought
the boys were doing that just to be smart, taking
things off the girls’ desks and seeing what they
could do without being caught. I mean that
bunch of boys, you know, not Mickey or Andy.
So maybe somebody got hold of part of your
paper.”

“The wind from that open window blew some
paper off my desk once,” mused Betty. “I believe
it must have been Jakey that handed it to
me, but I didn’t think it was part of my paper
that was written on. I stuck it under the rest.
I did write out my translations on an extra
paper first, for I didn’t want to make any
erasures and have a messy paper. But Jakey
knows as much as I do. It certainly wasn’t
Jakey whose paper was like mine.”

“Time will tell,” said Peggy. “Don’t worry
too much, Betty. Whatever happens, your
friends among us girls will believe what you
say.”

“Thanks, Peggy. You’re a comfort. Please
don’t say anything to Carolyn yet.”

“She might know something.”

“How could she?”

“I don’t know. But at least I can tell her how
I was questioned, and everybody knew that you
had to stay after school, so how can you help
telling her?”

“I’ll tell her that I was questioned, too.”

Betty however, had started to school as late
as she dared. In consequence lessons and the
day’s program were upon them. At lunch she
remained in the room until after Carolyn and
the rest of those going up to lunch had gone,
and pretended to be detained by some notes
she was writing. Perhaps it was not a pretense
either, she thought, for she needed the notes.
But she would not have taken them then if she
had not wanted to avoid being with the rest
of the girls. A few who were not going to
lunch were nibbling crackers or chocolate bars
and stirring about the room a little. The colored
girl in her Latin class was there and Betty
wondered if she had enough money for the
lunch, little as some of it cost.

Sure enough, there were some chocolate bars
and an apple in her locker! She had the chocolate
bars in her sweater pocket and the apple
had been presented to her in the hall by no less
a friend than Budd LeRoy. She, too, would
miss lunch and divide with Sally. Quickly she
ran out to her locker, rifled the pocket of her
sweater, discarded since the early cold morning,
and brought her apple and her pocket knife.

“Have a bar with me, Sally,” she said, “if
you are not going to lunch either, and I’ll cut
this apple in two.”

“Why–thanks, Betty. That looks good. No,
I thought I wouldn’t go to lunch today. But
you’d better keep all of your apple.”

“It’s too big and it looks awfully juicy,”
added Betty as she cut the apple in halves.
“With my compliments, Miss Sally,” and Betty
assumed quite an air as she handed the fruit
to Sally, who laughed and thanked Betty again.

“Have you always lived in this city?” asked
Betty for something to say, as Sally sat down in
her own seat which was opposite Betty’s, by
chance, just as in the Latin class.

In the soft voice and accent peculiar to her
race at its best, Sally answered this question and
asked Betty how she liked this and that teacher,
Miss Heath among others. Miss Heath had not
met her class that morning, to Betty’s deep disappointment.

“I saw Miss Heath come in the uppah hall,”
said Sally, “jus’ befo’ the last class. She hurried
into the office and I suppose she couldn’t
get here this mawnin.’”

“Oh, is she here?” asked Betty brightening.

“Yes. Say, Betty, did you see Jakey Bechstein
take some of your papers off your desk at
the test?”

“No; did he?”

“Yes, while you were sharpening your pencils.
The boys were having fun behind Miss Masterson’s
back when she was pulling down one window
and putting up another for ventilation,
though she didn’t know I suppose that they’re
not supposed to do that with the system they’ve
got here. They were pretendin’ to look at each
other’s papers and grab a few off the desks
and Jakey grabbed yours. But he kept them a
while, and I saw him sneak them back just
before you started for your seat.”

“I didn’t notice. But Jakey knows as much
about Latin as I do. What would be the point?”

“Keeping you from getting ahead of him,”
said Sally, taking a large bite of the apple and
being obliged to catch some of the juice in her
handkerchief. “Jakey’s not studying so much,
I reckon, since he started basketball.”

Betty listened soberly and remembered the
remark Jakey had made about not studying for
the test. *Could* it be that he had copied anything
from her paper?

It was worth while staying from lunch and
sharing with Sally to hear this. Yet could she
use the information to help herself out?

“If anything should come up about Jakey,
Sally, or anybody, would you be willing to tell
Miss Heath what you saw?”

“I sure would. I guess the teacher kept you
and Peggy about something like that yesterday,
didn’t she? I saw her look at Peggy when I
heard Peggy snap off the kid that snatched at
her paper.”

“Miss Masterson did ask some questions,
Sally.”

Betty was deep in her lesson for the next
hour when the girls came back from lunch.
“Where *were* you, Betty?” asked Carolyn.

“Oh, I just decided that I didn’t want to go
up, and I happened to have some chocolate bars
and an apple. I’ll fill up when I get home after
school.”

“I always do, and eat lunch, too,” said Peggy.
“Miss Heath was upstairs for lunch. I saw her
go into the teachers’ lunch room. It was funny
for her to come in the middle of the day, wasn’t
it?”

The girls wondered, but Miss Heath, though
not feeling equal to a day of teaching, had come
over for something else, as she had an idea
which she wanted to share with the assistant
principal. When Betty depressed, went into
the office of the assistant principal after school,
Miss Heath was there and looked like a fountain
in the desert, or the sun shining through clouds,
to Betty.

“Good afternoon, Betty,” she said pleasantly,
though with dignity. “I came over to see about
the little matter of the test. As soon as your
principal is at liberty, I want to go over the
questions with you.”

This was surprising–did she mean the real
*principal*? Evidently not, for when Mr. Franklin
came into the office, stopped on the way by
several people, both teachers and pupils, she
drew out a paper. “I am ready to go over the
questions with Betty, Mr. Franklin,” she said.

“Very well,” said he, closing the door.

“Do you remember the questions, pretty well,
Betty?” asked Miss Heath.

“I would know them if I saw them.”

“Have you looked up anything you did not
know?”

“Yes–I wasn’t sure about several things that
I wrote down; but I have forgotten what they
were now.”

“Perhaps you will recall them as I go through
the questions. I have your paper here,” and
Miss Heath took out what Betty recognized as
her own paper.

What was the point of doing all this! Betty
felt confused, but she would answer all the questions
if that would help establish her innocence
of the cheating.

One by one the examination questions, or
directions in regard to what was desired, were
read. Betty replied slowly, saying in several
places, “I didn’t put that all down on my paper,
I think, Miss Heath. I thought afterward that
I had omitted it, though I went all over it so
carefully.”

Later, when they came to the translation, she
said, “I couldn’t think of the name of that
Dative, so I just put Indirect Object, because
you said that in a way all Datives were indirect
objects. But I looked it up and I could tell you
now.”

“Take a piece of paper, Betty, and write
again the English to Latin sentences.”

Mr. Franklin indicated by a nod some paper
on his desk. Betty took the list of questions,
thought a moment and wrote, slowly. “I always
Have to take plenty of time on the English to
Latin,” she said, “and there is one that I wrote
two ways, but I wasn’t sure that either were
right. It’s the one that has the accusative of
place to which in it.”

Miss Heath nodded and her eyes twinkled.
Whatever idea she had was turning out successfully,
it seemed. But Betty was very busy with
the sentences. She handed over the paper saying
“It did not take so long, because I’d thought
it out before.”

“I see. Betty, why did you use *appello*
instead of *voco* here?”

“Because it is calling in the sense of naming,
as you told us in such sentences.”

“Good. Why did you use the Ablative in
the second sentence?”

“Because it specifies that in respect to which”–Betty
got no farther because Miss Heath interrupted
her.

“That is enough, Betty. Mr. Franklin, I’m
satisfied, are you? The other person did not
know, and the third youngster plainly copied
the whole thing from him.”

Mr. Franklin nodded assent. “Betty,” he
said, “you are cleared from all suspicion of
copying and cheating. We know which ones of
these papers were copied. You may thank Miss
Heath for her little scheme to find out. We
have already met with the others, but we can
not tell you their names.”

“Oh, I don’t want to know!” exclaimed Betty.
“Thank you so much!”

It was another Betty that ran down the steps,
to find both Peggy and Carolyn waiting for her.
Her face must have told them the story. “O,
Betty! Is is all right?” eagerly asked Carolyn.
“Peggy told me, when I asked her why she was
waiting for you. Oh, you should have told me
and let me worry with you! Was that why you
wouldn’t come up to lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Please tell us how they found out that you
didn’t—” Carolyn would not finish.

“Well, you saw Miss Heath, that darling woman!
She came over on purpose to see all
about it and she had the scheme to bring the
questions and find out how much each of us
really knew about things. I really don’t see
how she told, but it must be that whoever copied
couldn’t give good reasons for what he would
have missed on or something. She’s a regular
Sherlock Holmes!”

“And now, if you’ll never tell a soul, I’ll tell
you what Sally Wright told me during lunch. I
learned a lot by staying down and giving Sally
an old chocolate bar!”

The girls promised, and the three, Betty in
the middle, walked slowly toward the street,
heads together, arms about each other.

CHAPTER XVI: SOME FRESHMAN CONCLUSIONS
======================================

What had happened between the teachers and
the pupils who had cheated in the test was,
naturally, not known, except that every one
knew the penalty of losing a grade. The boys
that had changed seats and generally “acted up”
during the presence of the substitute were well
rebuked and had to endure some penalty, the
girls understood; but only those who had behaved
ever mentioned the occurrence. The guilty
carried it off with bland ignorance or nonchalance
and pretended not to understand any
jokes at their expense. Jakey Bechstein was
out of school for several days, but came back
as lively as ever and making good recitations.
His basketball team lacked his presence.

At Betty Jakey never looked, but as she had
never known him very well and as he did not
ordinarily sit near her in any of her classes,
she scarcely noticed that he avoided her till
Peggy called her attention to it.

But the year went on and Betty had many
more interesting things to take up her mind.
The semester examinations were a nightmare,
Carolyn claimed, but they managed to live
through them, as they usually do. Miss Heath
was particularly fond of Betty, she told her
mother when Mrs. Lee, without Amy Lou, came
to visit Betty’s classes one day. “Betty is a
very charming little girl, Mrs. Lee, and very
bright. She is a friend of some of our best
freshman girls, too, as I imagine you’d like to
know. It is rather important, you know, what
sort of friends the children like.”

The winter passed. Betty for the most part
worked at her lessons, with pleasant Saturday
afternoons, sometimes with the girls, sometimes
on expeditions with the family. Her father was
greatly absorbed in business affairs, but as
spring approached he often drove his family
to find the first spring flowers at some spot outside
of the city, or to observe the coming of bud
and blossom.

On one warm April day, rather in advance of
the season, they thought, Mr. Lee and Betty
were alone and the machine was parked by the
roadside near a little stream where some violets
were growing. As the ground was dry upon the
sloping bank, Betty sat down with her bunch of
violets in her hand and her father decided to
join her. “What do you think of this place,
Betty? You’d hardly expect it so near the city,
would you?”

“No, but there are lots of places in this town
that are what you might call unexpected, because
there are the hills and ravines, you know.”

“Yes, that is so.”

“Father,” Betty spoke again after a pause
during which she picked a flower within reach.
“Father, don’t you think that a girl ought to
take advantage of her opportunities?”

“Seems to me I’ve heard something like that,
Betty.”

“Well, I’m serious, Father.”

“To just what advantages do you refer?”

“I’m thinking about school, you know, and it
does seem as if there are so many things to do
in these high school years, especially here in the
city, that you’ll never have a chance to do
again!”

“Things that you are not doing now, you
mean?”

“Yes, Father. Unless you see it, you can’t
realize what lovely things go on at school and
you can’t help wanting to be in them!”

“What, for instance?”

“Well, there’s the music for one thing. If
you get your lessons, you haven’t so much time
for other things, but to be trained right here,
where there’s a Symphony Orchestra and everybody
knowing the best music and singing and
playing it–it doesn’t seem right not to do it
if you have any music in you at all. Ted Dorrance
was talking about it the other day. He’s
a junior this year, you know. He was with
some of the girls and boys in a bunch of us,
talking after school.

“I imagine that Ted gets his lessons, for he’s
smart looking. I heard him talking to a boy
the very first day I was in school, standing in
line to sign up. He said he didn’t know what
he was going to do, not much athletics only
‘swimming, of course.’ You ought to see Ted
swim at a swimming meet. And dive! He can
turn a somersault backwards and everything.

“He said that his mother wanted him to be
in the orchestra and sure enough he is. Father,
he plays the violin and he’s the very first violin
in the orchestra, the one that does little solo
parts sometimes, or whatever they do.”

“And do you want to be in the orchestra,
too?”

“Mer\ *cee*, no! What would I play? But I’d
like to go on with my piano lessons, and at
the Conservatory, too, and then I’d like to be
in the Glee Club. Carolyn says she’s going
to try to be in it next year. But you see all the
practice takes a lot of time.”

“I see. Anything else, little daughter?”

Betty laughed. Father was so nice to talk
to. “Yes, a lot of things, but I like the athletics,
gym, you know, and swimming. I think maybe
I’ll get honors in swimming. Some of the girls
are more than half afraid of the water, but I
feel–I feel just like a fish!”

It was Mr. Lee’s turn to laugh. “I used to
feel that way, too, Betty, and I had a lake to
swim in from the time I was knee-high to a
duck.”

“Then I suppose I inherit it from you,” Betty
declared. “I’m much, obliged for the trick of
it! But that’s another thing, Father. If you
do a thing, you like to do it well and I suppose
it’s Louise Madison, who is president of the
G. A. A., that has made me so crazy about
athletics. Why, they even have riding horseback,
beside tennis and everything you can
think of.”

“And everything you can’t think of, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you funny–who’d ever say that but
you?”

“Have you thought out, Betty, just what
you’d like to take up?”

“No, Father, not exactly. I’m just–ruminating,
and trying to think it out.”

“Then I’m glad you are willing to do it with
me, Betty. Perhaps we can come to some
conclusion.”

“Perhaps. I’m sure I need help. It’s just
this way. I hate to miss it all, but I can never
get my lessons and do too much. Would you
care awfully, Father, if I didn’t stand at the
head of my class? I did at home, I mean where
we did live, but I don’t believe a body ever could
even *know* who is the head in the big high
schools. I guess it’s only in some line or other
that they get prizes and things.

“And then, Father, I believe that it’s better
not to be so–keyed up, as Mother says, and
wanting to beat.”

“The habit of success is a good thing, Betty.”

Betty pondered a moment. “I see what you
mean. It’s only too easy to let down.”

“Yes, and when one studies a subject there
is more satisfaction in really covering the
ground, being accurate, I mean, not just having
a sort of hazy idea.”

“Father, there’s too much! You just can’t
get it all.”

“You have done pretty well so far, my child.
I am satisfied with your grades. Isn’t there
always an honor roll?”

“Yes, and I’m on it, so far.”

“Then that is enough. You need not try to
beat anybody. Wasn’t that the trouble with
your friend that copied your answers?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t do that, of course, but there
is a sort of nervousness about reciting well and
making an impression on the teacher, whether
you have your lesson or haven’t had a chance
to get it real well. And sometimes you recite
when you don’t know much.”

“I see. It is a problem, Betty. I see nothing
for it but to make a good general plan, not including
too much, then work it out every day the
best you can. But it’s the little decisions every
day that count in anything. I have it in business
too. And I wouldn’t let down altogether in the
ideals of hard work and getting lessons. It’s
chiefly in putting your mind on it when you are
working, isn’t it?”

“A good deal.”

“You would really like to be in that orchestra,
wouldn’t you, Betty?”

Betty looked up at the smiling face of her
father, who wasn’t so very old, after all. He
had a fellow feeling!

“Didn’t you take a few violin lessons once?”

“Yes, when that college girl taught a class for
a while, but I can’t *play*, Father. They wouldn’t
*look* at me for the orchestra!”

“Probably not now; but if you took more lessons,
and of a proper teacher this summer–how
about it?”

“I might,” said Betty, dropping her flowers in
her lap to clap her hands. “Would you *let* me?”

“Would you like it as much as that?”

“I’d love it!”

“Then we shall see about it at once. I’m
going to send your Mother and Amy Lou to
your grandmother’s this summer, but not all of
you could go there. Dick and Doris might take
turns. And how would you like to keep house
for me, practice violin, and get taken on
rides to give you an occasional breath of the country?”

“That would be great. I’m not a good housekeeper,
though.”

“We’ll never tell anybody how we keep house,
Betty, and I’ll be ‘boss.’ We’ll drive over to
the Conservatory, Saturday, sign you up for
violin with somebody–come on child. Gather
up your flowers. We must go home.”

Mr. Lee sprang to his feet, gave a hand to
Betty, who did not need it, but accepted it.

“But *Father*, I don’t know how good the old
violin is and the bow is terrible. It never did
do what it ought to! How *can* I begin?”

“The trouble with the ‘old violin’ is not that
it is ‘old,’ Betty,” laughed Mr. Lee, as Betty
ran after him on his way to the car. “It simply
isn’t much good at all. You shall have a better
one. You used to play some sweet little tunes.
Here’s for a Stradivarius or ‘whatever it is,’
as you say. And you shall see how I keep you
at hard work this summer! We’ll have some of
the school extras or perish in the attempt.”

Betty chuckled as she climbed into the car.
“All right, my dear Daddy. The neighbors will
hate me, but *I’ll practice*, and it can’t be any
worse than that horn across the street. How
did you read my mind and know that I’d rather
be in an orchestra than take piano lessons?”

“It was just instinct, Betty,” replied Mr. Lee,
as he started the car, “with perhaps a few
deductions and putting two and two together.”

“Really, Father, can you afford to get me a
good violin and let me take lessons?”

“Yes. It is necessary to do things *when* they
ought to be done, and we shall do this. But I’m
counting on my girl to make good.”

“Oh, I will try! But you know me!”

“I’m not expecting too much, Betty, only the
same effort that you always make in everything.
I shall watch to keep you well and safe. Perhaps
the athletics that you like so much will
help to keep you well. But don’t get reckless in
‘gym.’ We’ll see about the riding some other
year, perhaps.”

CHAPTER XVII: SPRING AT LYON HIGH
=================================

If the autumn, with its excitement of football
and the starting of school activities, was
thrilling to Betty Lee, what should be said of
the springtime, with those same activities matured
and new interests of the season? It was
baseball among the boys now. Seniors were
thinking of their graduation. Freshmen had
nearly completed their first year of high school
and had changed by contact with the older
classes and with their own new ambitions.

Betty could not keep up with it all, nor attend
all of the entertainments offered by the different
organizations. In some of them she had a part,
as when the Girl Reserves did something special
with a good program, or when the swimming
contests took place, for then not alone the best
swimmers took part, but those of modest attainments.
In this Betty had occasion to take a
little pride in winning points.

Her mother accompanied her to attend the
great musical affair of the year, when all the
musical organizations, orchestra and glee clubs,
combined to show their parents what they could
do. Mrs. Lee exclaimed over the ability of the
orchestra and Betty explained. “In the first place,
Mother, they have a wonderful leader. He’s a
foreigner and hasn’t much patience with anybody,
Ted says, but it isn’t a bad thing for the
way things turn out, you see. Then the boys
and girls are used to hearing good music.”

“They hear some very terrible jazz, too,” remarked
Mrs. Lee.

“I’ll have to admit it,” laughed Betty, “but
not in school, except, perhaps, at the minstrel
show they had. I wasn’t there, so I can’t state.”

The school grounds were more attractive than
in the fall. The garden club worked under the
direction of the botany teacher. First came the
forsythia, in welcome yellow delicacy all over
the city, and here and there about the grounds.
Then other flowers came on, with magnolia and
Japanese cherry trees in blossom, and in their
time gay tulips, and purple iris lining some of
the walks. With the windows of class rooms,
study halls and library open, the pupils and
teachers could hear the songs of birds, more free
than they were, to be sure, but with their daily
bread and nesting entailing much hunting and
work on the part of the little creatures. Betty
never failed to visit a part of the grounds devoted
to wild flowers, including May-apples and
jack-in-the-pulpit.

She was occasionally out at the Gwynne place,
when Carolyn carried her off in a car which
sometimes came for her, or accompanied her as
far as the street car went, to take the rest of the
way in a strolling hike, enlivened with much discourse,
after the manner of girls. They saw
very little of the boys, by the way, for baseball
and other active, outdoor affairs engaged their
attention; but the girls, with so many of their
own, did not notice it. Of these girl activities,
Color Day, the annual track meet of the girls
was of importance.

This was held on the last of April in the stadium
and the competition was between classes.
The freshmen girls were quite excited over it,
for they had some very athletic girls in their
various teams this year, and while they did not
expect to win the meet they expected to make a
good showing. Both Betty and Carolyn were in
this, though Betty was not allowed to do competitive
running. But there was the throwing,
baseball and hurl-ball, and some other events.
Numbers told for your class, it seemed. And
when it finally came off it was great fun, Betty
reported.

“You ought to have been there, Mother!” she
cried when she came home. “You simply *must*
come more next year. We’ll get somebody to
stay with Amy Lou, though she would think anything
like this just wonderful, wouldn’t you,
Amy Lou?”

“Yes, Betty. Why can’t I go?”

“You can next time. You ought to have seen
the girls run and jump over the hurdles and
everything! We had a tug of war and the freshmen
won that. Then one of our freshman girls
made a brand-new record in the sixty-yard
hurdles. I’ve forgotten just what it was, but it
beat last year’s record just a little bit.

“I didn’t do so badly in the throwing, Mother,
but I didn’t take first place by any means; and
the relay in overhead basketball was great!”

“It seems to me that you make work of your
playing, Betty.”

“Yes, I suppose we do. But isn’t it better to
have athletics watched over and amounting to
something?”

“I suppose it is, unless you push it too far
for your health.”

“Well, I suppose it does hurt some of the boys
and girls once in a while, when they get reckless
and try more than they ought to do; but they
are all examined, you know, and they have rules.
The seniors beat, by the way, so I suppose
they’re satisfied. It would be hard to be beaten
when it was your last year. And, Mother, may
I go to the G. A. A. banquet with Carolyn? And,
won’t you think twice about going yourself?
Carolyn says that her mother is going and
wants to entertain you and me. I suppose we
couldn’t get Father there, could we?”

“Oh, no, Betty. He is too busy to take time
now for a girls’ affair. Perhaps I can go another
year, but not now.”

“Mrs. Gwynne was going to call you up, or
come to see you if she could.”

“That will be very kind,” said Mrs. Lee. “You
may go, Betty, but I think that you’d better pay
for your own ticket. We shall see what seems
polite to do.”

“You see, Mother, honors are distributed that
night and we find out who the honor girl is and
get whatever we do get for our points.”

This was one of the last events before the
“finals” and Commencement. Betty, in her
“partiest frock,” came home full of enthusiasm
to report that the mystery was a mystery no
longer and that Louise Madison “got the honor
ring.” That was the crowning honor and the
last thing given.

For the “first time in history” the freshmen
received the baseball chevrons. Betty declared
that she wasn’t ashamed of being a freshman,
but oh, to think that her first year was nearly
over! The banquet was simply great, everything
so good; and then after it came the speeches and
the presenting of awards, while the girls that
had done things were “all excited inside,” and
the seniors, of course, all wondering which of
them would get the great honor.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to ride in order
to get one of those ducky pins, a silver pin with
a tiny black horse and rider, a girl, too, jumping
over a bar!”

“Now, isn’t that just like a girl!” exclaimed
Dick, who was listening while some of this was
being told at the breakfast table.

“It ought to take a very strong motive,
Dicky,” mischievously replied his sister, “to induce
one to make an art of riding! Still, I
can stick on a horse out at Grandma’s, can’t I?”

“Yes–and how?” asked Dick scornfully.

Examination week to some seemed long, indeed,
with the longer time allowed for the real
tests that had so much to do with passing for
those who were obliged to take them. Fortunately,
Betty had none to take, but it seemed
odd, indeed, to wait for grades during examination
time and the time given the teachers to
correct the important papers. The weather was
hot, but it was a good opportunity for last visits
or picnics.

Peggy Pollard had one of these at her home,
a pretty place in the same suburb which boasted
the Gwynne place, but Peggy’s home was closer
in toward town and not so large as that of the
Gwynnes. The house was a simple building,
modern, set back among a few handsome trees
in a large lot. There was a pool on whose circular
cement wall, Betty, Peggy and their friends
sat like so many mermaids one hot afternoon.
Bathing suits were the appropriate costume for
this picnic, Peggy had said. In consequence, the
girls came in simple frocks, as cool as they could
muster, and brought their bathing suits, caps,
slippers and all.

The pool was retired, among the trees and
thick bushes where it was cool with shadows,
and it was well known and favored among
Peggy’s friends. Betty’s eyes opened wide
when she saw it. Good friends as they had been,
this was the first time that Peggy had entertained
her.

“How did you happen to have such a *big* one,
Peggy?” one of the girls asked, voicing Betty’s
thought.

“Why, there were so many boys and they
wanted it big enough for real diving and swimming
a bit; so, as they made it themselves, they
had it that way. This is fresh water, girls, just
put in it. Betty, you haven’t been here before,
though I’ve tried to find a good chance to have
folks before this. Mother’s been in the hospital,
as I guess I told you.

“Why, Betty, I’m the last chick of a big
family, or almost the last chick. Jack is in the
University still, my big brother, but the rest are
all married or away, six brothers–what do you
think of that?”

“How nice! Any sisters? but you practically
told me you hadn’t any. And here I’ve known
you all year and never knew a word about your
family.”

“Life is like that, Betty,” laughed Peggy. “I
guess we never told each other our life history.
I know your family because I’ve been at your
house and I saw them.”

“I’ve known Peggy all my life,” said Mary
Emma, “and I never knew she had *six* brothers.
Are you *sure*, Peggy?” Mary Emma was grinning
as she touched the water with her toes.
Then she slipped into it and lay back, floating a
little.

It was the signal for a general descent into the
pool whose waters, cooler than the air, were so
refreshing. Nobody seemed to care about
diving, but they swam a little, had mild races
which, no one cared much about beating, and sat
on the steps that led down into the water or
perched again on the upper rim of cement.
“What makes us so doleful?” lazily asked
Carolyn.

“Oh, it’s the weather, and school’s being
’most out,” returned Kathryn Allen, who looked
like a little red gypsy in her scarlet bathing suit
and cap. “I feel just like splashing around
and doing nothing unless to keep from being
drowned.”

“I have enough energy for that,” said Betty,
swimming off.

“What do you suppose we’ll be doing this
time next year?” asked Carolyn.

“My, you’re looking ahead, Carolyn! By that
time we’ll be through being sophomores, or
almost.”

Betty curved around and drew herself up on
the steps where Carolyn and Kathryn were.
“I’ve decided, to do something different every
year,” she said. “I can’t do it *all* all the time,
you see. I’ll keep up swimming, and some music,
and then one year I’ll take riding, and another
year something else–I *think* I will, anyhow.”

“What are you going to do this summer,
Betty?” Carolyn asked. “We’re going away for
July and August, I think I told you.”

“Yes. I heard you speak of it. It will be
wonderful to be on the ocean beach, Carolyn.
But we’re going to have Mother go to my grandmother’s
on a big farm, where they have tenants
to do the work, mostly. It will be good for Amy
Lou, whose been ‘peaked’ lately, since it grew
so warm. Dick and Doris are to take turns
going, I think, and I’m to keep house for Father.
But that will mean lots of picnics and little trips
out places for our dinner and then something is
to happen for me, he said, when Mother comes
back. But they won’t tell me what it is. So I
have a nice mystery to look forward to, or try
to discover.”

“Do you mean that either your brother or
sister will stay with you?”

“I think they’re going to try that, though they
are twins and like to be at least in the same
town. But no telling. In our family we try
experiments and if they don’t work we do something
else. Nobody carries out anything just for
meanness, or because they said they were going
to.”

“I’ll tell that to Chauncey,” said Kathryn.
“Chauncey hates to acknowledge that anything’s
wrong he starts, and blazes ahead no matter
what happens. You must have a nice family. I
imagine you have a good time with your father
and mother.”

“Oh, we do,” laughed Betty. “But we children
do what they say–only we’re ‘reasoned with’,”
and Betty pursed up her mouth.

“Probably they think you have some brains,”
said Kathryn. “I’m not sure that my Dad thinks
I have any. I’d better make a few more prominent,
don’t you think so, Carolyn?”

“It wouldn’t hurt any.”

The afternoon was going on wings, Peggy
said, as some one from the house looked out and
Peggy called to ask the time. “That was only
to know about refreshments,” she explained.
“Will the mermaids now turn themselves into
summer girls again and get their frocks on?
We’ll go up the back way to the bath room and
take turns at the shower. Then we’ll dress where
we undressed, and have lunch in the arbor.”

That was a pleasing outlook. The mermaids
followed directions and presently a cool arbor
back of the pool was the scene of light refreshments
being served to the group of Peggy Pollard’s
friends. Peggy herself ladled out the iced
lemonade from the punch bowl. “Please drink
all that you want, girls; I can’t seem to get
enough myself.”

A wood thrush sang from the thicket near
them, and they heard a meadow lark from out
toward Carolyn’s. “Can you realize, girls, that
tomorrow we get our grade cards and won’t be
freshmen any longer?” Kathryn waved her
pretty glass of lemonade as she spoke.

“That is so,” said Betty. “I’ll not be Betty
Lee, freshman, but Betty Lee, SOPHOMORE!
I presume that I *will* receive a card since I
escaped examinations!”

“It must be so,” dramatically cried Mary
Emma in an exaggerated style, reminiscent of a
ridiculous skit made up by the Girl Reserves,
almost impromptu, when necessity called for a
longer program. “Hail to the Sophomores! I
will meet you at the witching hour of school
time, tomorrow morning!”

“Come down from the high horse, Mary Emma,
dear,” said Peggy, “and accept this plate of
fudge.”

“Thank you,” said Mary Emma, putting the
plate down beside her as if she thought it all
for her. But she selected a piece and passed on
the plate. They must really start pretty soon,
yet it was such fun to be together.

“Peggy, I’ve had a glorious time and I’m
sorry that it’s over. See you tomorrow morning
at school. ’Bye, Peggy.”

“’Bye, Betty.”

    | “’Bye little Betty, don’t you cry,
    | You’ll be a Soph’more by and by!”

So sang Kathryn, who followed Betty in farewells,
and made room for several others not
quite so intimate with Peggy. “There is your
car, Betty,” she said a little later. “I’m going
to be home a good deal this summer. Let’s try
to see each other.”

“Let’s,” warmly returned Betty, as she prepared
to catch the car. “We can manage it, I’m
sure. Goodbye, Kathryn, till I see you in the
morning.”

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