CHAPTER XIIITHE FAMILY MAKES REMARKS
Mr. Lee telephoned his wife that Betty would arrive when he did. Tired after a day of much thought upon business affairs and some conferences in the office, he listened to Betty’s account, after having asked her how she happened to be with “this young man.” Betty gave him a full account, with a happy appreciation of the fun they had had.
“I’m not sure that you would approve of Mabel, Papa,” she said, “but she’s the funny sort and it was all very nice. Jack seems to like me—lately, and he did his best to make me have a good time. I hope Mother won’t mind. I just couldn’t resist going and I was late anyhow, with all that going over and over of the parts we don’t get just right. You ought to hear the leader scold us. He makes us work, I tell you.
“Oh, I meant to telephone to Mother, but there wasn’t any good chance.”
“I think that she will not mind, daughter,” kindly said Mr. Lee. “Of course, we prefer to know where you are, as you know. Tell me about this lad. He is new to the school, you say?”
Betty explained. “And oh, I hope I may accept his invitation to his birthday party his mother’s giving for him. I’m to get an invitation, but Jack said that he wanted me to save the date.”
“He must think that you are popular,” smiled Mr. Lee. “I presume that you may go. He seemed rather an engaging youth. I liked him. As a rule, though, I don’t want you to go driving with the boys yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dinner was being put on the table as the car was driven into the garage and Betty and her father hastened to make themselves ready for the meal. As her father picked up the carving fork and attacked the steaming veal roast, he quietly remarked, “Betty seems to have a new boy friend.”
Nothing could have been more startling than that remark, it seemed to Betty. She flushed in her surprise; Mrs. Lee turned a wondering look upon her husband, and Dick chortled. Doris sat up straight with a wide grin. Then, drawing her lips together and frowning slightly she remarked, “I’m surprised, Mr. Lee, to hear such an expression from the head of the family. ‘Boy friend’ indeed! Papa, you’re getting quite too modern!”
An amused smile played about Mr. Lee’s lips as he put a generous helping of mashed potato by the slice of meat he was offering first. “Modern, is it? Yes, I believe it is and I like it better than the old expressions. It does not seem to mean as much. But by the way, the true head of the family is opposite me. My dear, is the spinach to be put on the plates or served in dishes? I am never quite sure how some of these additions go.”
“Served separately, I think,” replied Mrs. Lee, with a twinkle of her eyes to match those of her husband. “I am quite interested in your news, though. Will Betty mind if you explain?”
“I could explain,” said Doris decidedly.
Betty looked surprised again. Had Jack been with her so much that Doris could notice? She felt quite annoyed, but it would call attention to the fact if she said anything. She smiled as her father offered her the second plate, after serving her mother. “Fix that for Amy Lou, Daddy,” she said. “And when you serve my plate, remember that I had a big lunch.”
“Oh, youdid!” exclaimed Doris. “Tell us about it, Betty; did Jack Huxley treat you this afternoon?” Doris was very courteous in her manner at this question.
“Yes, Dory. That was all there was of it. And Papa met him, you know—so he feels facetious about it. Isn’t that so,mon cher papa?”
“She’s talking French now,” groaned Dick. “There must be something in it!”
“Don’t be silly, Dick,” said Betty. “If you’ll all have some sense—I don’t mean my respected parents, but you—you monkeys, Dick and Doris.
“And me,” put in Amy Lou. “Is that the name of Betty’s boy friend, Doris?”
“Now, Father, see what you’ve done!”
“Betty, I apologize,” said Mr. Lee with a wave of his carving knife. “I was just in fun, Amy Lou. Is that the way you like your potato, with a valley in it full of gravy?”
Amy Louise gravely nodded, while Mr. Lee heaped Dick’s plate next. Whether Dick had had any lunch or cookies from the jar or not, it would make no difference in his appetite for dinner. Betty was the last served and while she waited she gave a rather brief but satisfactory account of her little “lark,” as she called it.
“Father said he thought it might be all right for once, Mother; and as Jack had just asked me to his birthday party, I wanted to do what he wanted me to do. And oh, the suggestion of a sundae made my mouth water! But we had much more than that.”
After dinner Doris came into the bedroom where Betty was laying off her school dress. “I wouldn’t say a word before the family, Betty,” said she, “but I’ve heard about Jack and of course I’ve seen you with him. Some of the girls think he’s wonderful even if he doesn’t pay any attention to anybody but you. And then I heard one of the boys say that he runs with awild setof thesociety bunch! What do you think about it, Betty?”
“I don’t know a thing against him, Doris, and I don’t think a person ought to believe anything bad without giving a friend a chance, do you?”
“You could see that Father liked him,” returned Doris. “I should imagine you could be friends with Jack Huxley and not hurt anything at all. He has such nice manners; and when he is with you he is as polite as can be.”
“Yes, always, Doris.”
“There’s something about you, Betty, that makes the boys do that. They never get fresh or act silly as they do with some of the girls.”
“I don’t like that expression, Doris—but I think boys know the kind of girls they’re with; and besides, the kind of boys I like aren’t that sort. I like fun, Dorry—you know that, but I like to talk sense, too. That is one thing about Jack. You would laugh at some of his clever remarks; and then he can tell me about something just as if he were grown up and explaining, like Father.”
“Do you like him better than Chet?”
“Don’taskme, Doris. I don’t like any of them as well as I do Carolyn!”
“Then you’re safe for a while,” laughed Doris.
“I’m always going to be safe,” laughed Betty. “Imagine getting engaged in high school and then finding somebody you liked much better when you went to college! But Doris, I’m not going to pay any attention to gossip about Jack. I’m sure he’s a nice boy. He’s different and I know he thinks some ideas that our people have are ‘old fogy,’ but people can’t be all alike and I believe in letting other folks—well, they have the same right to their opinions that we have.”
There was no one to remind Betty that opinions and action based upon them are very likely to agree. Doris saw Betty’s firmly set lips and nodded her head in assent to her sister’s opinion. “Anyhow,” said Doris, “having Jack Huxley for a friend is going to give you some good times and maybe Chet won’t think he owns you.”
Betty nodded. “Still, Doris,” she said, honestly, “Chet has been a very good friend to me and I can’t say that he’s tried not to have me accept any invitations from Budd or Brad or anybody—unless it was Ted.” Betty laughed and Doris, who remembered Ted’s limited period of invitation, was pleased that Betty should confide in her. “He doesn’t like Jack, though—but please don’t say a word to the girls about any of my doings, Doris.”
“I won’t and I think it’s good of you to tell me about things. Didn’t you say that you are going out to take dinner with Mrs. Dorrance and the boys tomorrow?”
“Yes—but there will be some other girls there, too, I think. How would you like it, if Mrs. Dorrance needs any more, to dress up and help in the booths, too!”
“Oh, Betty! I’d adore it!” Doris clasped her hands together as she spoke enthusiastically. “Would sheletme, do you suppose?”
“Don’t be too disappointed if nothing happens, but if there is a chance I’ll not forget. Oh, Doris! Jack gave me a big, two pound box of candy and I left it in our car. Ask Dick if he won’t go out and get it and we’ll all have a treat!”
Doris lifted two expressive hands at that speech. “Will I ask Dick? I will. And I’m Jack’s friend for life!”
“Silly,” laughed Betty, “run along!”
Doris stopped, holding to the door frame as she peeped back. “Only grown up boys do that for their best girls. You certainly are lucky!”
CHAPTER XIVAN ANNOYING CALL
The occasional entertainment at the home of Mrs. Dorrance was always welcome to Betty. The next day at school went rapidly and beyond a short business meeting of Lyon “Y” there was nothing to detain her after school. Jack saw her in the halls and walked a few steps with her once or twice, but he evidently had important business with the boys. Chet was as usual, but merely saluted her once in the passage from classes and said: “You won’t forget to come out tonight,” while Betty replied, “No, indeed.”
She dressed carefully and watched the time at home, for she wanted to arrive early enough and no too early. For some reason she had forgotten that Chet had said they would call for her. Perhaps it was Chet’s remark aboutnot forgettingthat misled her! She was dressed, however, when a jolly load drove up and Chet ran up the Lee steps to ring the bell. Ted, Chet and several girls were in the car, Ted driving, and they added Betty to their number, when she came running along by Chet. There was quiet merriment afoot and Ted called back, “Can you add another blossom to our bouquet of beauty, Chet?”
“Listen,” said Betty, climbing in. “I can sit on somebody’s lap back here.”
“Spoil the ruffles, Betty—wait till I turn down that seat. There you are! You are the last.”
The dinner was good and Mrs. Dorrance seemed to enjoy her young guests. Betty supposed that one of the older girls must be some special friend of Ted’s, his latest inamorata, but there was nothing to indicate it. Ted was his happy self and host to all of them alike. In all, there were four girls, Mrs. Dorrance, Ted and Chet. The time after dinner, indeed, during the meal, was partly taken in explanation of what Mrs. Dorrance wanted the girls to do and a discussion of what costume should be worn. A display of nations was one of the features of the festival and the girls all decided that since they might have their choice among several nations they would represent Holland.
“Do you have to sell just Dutch things?” asked one.
“No, indeed,” said Mrs. Dorrance, “but we’ll have some Dutch specialties in the line of things to eat, you know, if there are any——”
Mrs. Dorrance stopped to think and one of the girls spoke quickly—“Oh, and some china with windmills on it, and wooden shoes and little things like that, to give a Dutch atmosphere.”
“I speak to buy some ‘Old Dutch Cleanser,’” gravely said Ted and raised a laugh, though Mrs. Dorrance said that a few boxes of that “well-advertised commodity” would probably be a funny feature and sell, at that.
“I’ll paint a china cup and saucer with a Dutch design,” said a girl that Betty hoped was Ted’s friend, for she was so sweet. “I’m doing that sort of thing in art now, and I’ll just make that little contribution.”
“We ought to have a little girl or two, to clatter around in wooden shoes,” remarked Mrs. Dorrance. “Betty, you have two sisters. Would they like to do it, or would it be too much trouble for your mother? Our old down town church is short of children that I can ask, or that could assist without a good deal of help on my part.”
“Mrs. Dorrance, my sisters would think it a great privilege to dress up and be in the picture, so to speak. I can help them get ready. And Dick does some carving at school. Could he make a few little tiny shoes? Oh, how would a few fixed up with little pin-cushions inside do?”
“Fine, Betty!” said Chet. “Mother, with all these girls, I think you can fold your hands. They’ll have so many ideas that all you will need to do will be to engage a policeman to manage the crowds around the booth. Put your prices low enough and the ten cent store can go out of business!”
Betty and Chet exchanged glances, merry ones. Chet was a dear, and getting to be as funny as Ted! It was all fixed up about Doris, and Amy Lou, too! How she would love it!
It was another extra, to take time, of course, but Mrs. Lee was interested and promised to help with the costumes. There was plenty of time, for it was to be an outdoor affair, if possible, though that plan might change if there were a rainy week or so, as sometimes happened.
The birthday party, too, was three weeks away from the day Jack asked Betty to attend. That was something to anticipate. Meantime there was a “junior picnic” on a bright spring day. The athletes of the group employed that as a hike, to count on their points, but it was a limited party this time, gotten up by about twenty junior boys, with as many girls as their guests. Jack invited Betty; and one of the teachers of athletics among the girls went along as chaperon.
As none of the senior boys Betty knew could attend this picnic, there was no embarrassment for her in Jack’s friendly attentions. That young man, too, seemed to realize that he must change his attitude and be friendly to the other girls as well. He “could not have been nicer,” Betty reported to Doris at home when she told about their fun and the camp fire and the boating on the river. “‘No canoes,’ Doris, our chaperon said, but we went to that picnic place, you know where they have a little launch. So if therewasa pretty good current in the river, we were safe enough. I’m glad it’s Friday, for I’m simply dead after all the walking we did. It wasn’t so far from the street car, but we tramped around in the woods, hunting flowers and listening to the birds. It was a wonderful day for birds. Jack doesn’t care for hiking, he told me, especially since he has his new roadster; and he says that on the ‘next picnic’ he’s going to take me in it, though I’m sure that I’d rather go with a whole machine full, to be jollier and not to let Jack think it’s very—special, you know, Doris. But he was great today, just as nice as can be to all the girls. I think they will have a different opinion of him now. Lucia’s being so pleasant to him makes a difference, too. She said when a lot of us were sitting around eating lunch, that her mother used to know Jack’s mother when they were girls, just what she told me. And she did the introducing to several girls instead of me, as it happened.”
So the busy days whirled by. There was a girls’ swimming meet for which Betty had been preparing, though that was only fun. And it happened that Mr. Lee’s “little fish” or “mermaid” won more honors for her school, attempting more difficult feats than in her sophomore year. Betty was working now, also, on the life-saving tests, of practical importance, her father told her, though she must be “fit” and ready for them.
One more occurrence that deeply interested Betty Lee happened before the birthday party. It was on Saturday afternoon, when Mr. Lee had come home from the closed office and sat at his desk, for which there was no good place except the living room. He was figuring away at something and looked annoyed when the bell rang. “Mother, I simply must have another spot for his desk,” he said whimsically, as with a resigned expression he jumped up and answered the bell himself.
“You shall, my dear,” replied his wife, as he disappeared into the hallway. Betty and Mrs. Lee were in the dining room, a little back from the double doors, or rather draped opening which separated the living room from the dining room. The dining table was spread with papers and covered with scraps from the “rag-bag” except where half a dozen tiny wooden shoes stood ready to be filled with the small pin-cushions which Mrs. Lee and Betty were making. Betty was enjoying it. It was so nice to have an afternoon at home just to “fiddle around” and do what you felt like doing. This wasn’t work!
But from where Betty sat, she had a good look at a gentleman whom her father was ushering into the front room. Or was he a gentleman? Betty had a momentary impression of a very ordinary looking man, dark, fairly well-dressed but not well set up, as Betty thought. His shoulders were a little stooped and he gave a furtive look through the curtains that fell at the side of the open doorway.
But he began to speak in a suave way, “oily,” Betty called it afterwards:
“I’m not here to take much of your time, Mr. Lee, but I was directed to you by some one who thought you could tell me about where I could find a boy that was going here by the name of Ramon Balinsky.”
“Yes?” returned Mr. Lee, waiting for more explanation. Betty dropped the little cushion she was making and leaned forward, exchanging a glance with her mother.
The man hesitated, expecting a more enthusiastic reply, it might be presumed. But Betty could imagine the calm but cool expression with which her father was regarding the stranger, having courteously and kindly brought him in.
“Do you know him, Mr. Lee?”
“Yes, I know to whom you refer. He was a nice lad, looked after my car for me at times.”
“Yes. I found the garage where he worked and found that he went to school here for awhile. Well, do you know where he is now?”
“That might be hard to say. Perhaps you will explain your interest in him.”
Betty, tense, hoped that her father would not tell about the letter. Perhaps this was somebody that wanted to hurt Ramon! There was that story that Ramon was running away from some one, or that he was after somebody himself. Mrs. Lee made a little gesture and smiled at Betty. It meant, “Calm yourself, little daughter,” and Betty leaned back in her chair with a soft sigh. Good for her father. He wasn’t going to tell everything he knew unless he was sure that it was all right.
“I have good news for him. Some of his mother’s Spanish property has been recovered, that is, certain papers found. I was a lawyer, you call it, for the Sevillas.”
Betty made a comical face and looked at her mother. This man did not look like much of a lawyer. But perhaps he had fallen upon difficult times.
“Sevillas?” asked Mr. Lee.
“Yes,” the man replied, rather fiercely, Betty thought. “That boy is not all that you might think. He has run away because he stole a parcel of jewelry that belonged to a very noble family in Spain. Consequently he has taken a name that belongs to his father’s family. But I traced him in spite of it!”
“Well, do you intend to let the ‘noble family’ prosecute him if you find him?”
“By no means,” and the man’s voice changed, as he realized that he had let a bit of vindictive feeling creep into his tone. “No, I have arranged that. If he will return what he has left of the jewels and let me know if he has found his mother and sister, all will be forgiven. It is a long case and can’t be hastily explained. I must find Ramon first. He did not tell you then that his true name was Sevilla?”
“He said nothing to me about it,” returned Mr. Lee. “Instead, he told some one of the family that he was guarding against injury at the hands of some one who was an enemy. Do you know of any one who would injure Ramon?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “There is, of course, the matter of the jewels, Mr. Lee. Probably he had that in mind and thought that he was to be brought to justice. But I can prevent that. Now I went out to the school and made some inquiries, Mr. Lee. At the office no one knew what had become of Ramon. I attended a baseball game Friday afternoon and asked some of the boys to direct me to any who knew Ramon best. The coach did not know his whereabouts, but there was one boy who was listening that said you had heard from him recently.”
It was just as well that the visitor could not see Betty’s changes of countenance as she listened to the conversation, perfectly sure that in her role of listener she was quite justified. At the name “Sevillas” Betty’s eyes opened more widely and her mouth formed an “Oh,” as she looked sharply at her mother. Two deep frowns came between her blue eyes now at the mention of the letter. What would her father say to that?
“Yes,” he was replying, “we heard from Ramon just once, some time ago. It was chiefly a letter of courtesy, as we had entertained him and he remembered us pleasantly.”
“Could I see the letter?” eagerly asked the man.
“It has probably been destroyed,” said Mr. Lee, and Betty rolled dark blue eyes at her mother, who knew she had kept it.
“I could probably recall enough of it to satisfy you, though it contained no information that was valuable, I judge. It said nothing of any mother or sister and this is the first that I have heard of them.”
“Very good,” said the man in a satisfied tone. “Where was he?” he then asked sharply. Betty frowned again.Couldher father tell him? Then the man would find Ramon and maybe kill him, for all Betty knew. Horrors! Her father was telling!
“When he wrote us he was in Detroit, but he gave no house address whatever.”
“Are you sure that no member of your family has heard again?”
“Quite sure, sir.” Mr. Lee spoke in that quiet, final way that usually closed matters in his office. Betty heard his chair pushed back and knew that he had risen. “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” she quoted in a school-girl fashion to her mother in a low whisper. They sat quietly till the final good afternoon was said and her father closed the front screen door. Then Betty jumped up and ran into the front room to meet him.
“Oh, Father, youtoldhim! And I know he’s the ‘villain!’”
Mr. Lee grinned, much as Dick was accustomed to do, and approached his daughter with his fists closed and the favorite gestures of small boys about to engage in a fisticuff. That made Betty laugh, too, and she caught at his threatening arms to hold him.
The arms went around her and then he drew her toward where his wife was now standing, questioning with her eyes. “As my son would put it, you think I’ve spilled the beans, don’t you? Well, I haven’t, kiddie.” Mr. Lee dropped his voice to a stage whisper.
“Ramon Balinsky Sevilla is notinDetroit!”
“Oh, goody! But how do you know. Didn’t you tell the man that you hadn’t heard from him again!”
“Do you not think I would be justified in a false statement under the circumstances?”
“Oh, Papa, you just want to get up an argument! I know you! No, I think you could have handled it some way and I don’t believe you told a story.”
“Right. Go to the head of the class in diplomacy or whatever it is. No, I have not heard from Ramon, but I heard from some one who has seen him and Ramon sent us a message, from Detroit, my dear, and he was leaving there. In fact, he was at the station when my friend met him.Noware you satisfied?”
“No,” said Betty, grinning and drawing her father’s arm still farther over her shoulder. “I want to know what the message was and why you haven’t given it before.”
“The message was his regards, and I merely forgot all about it.”
“One thing, Father, I wondered about. You said Ramon did not give a house address.”
“It was not a house address, Betty. If you will look up the letter I will show you. I’m pretty sure that was his business address. Does anybody love me?”
“I’ll say,” slangily answered Betty Lee, junior, offering a warm embrace.
CHAPTER XVTHE FATEFUL BIRTHDAY PARTY
In the due course of events, the night of the birthday party at the Huxley home had arrived. Betty was in high spirits as she dressed. Doris took great interest in her donning of a new dress, “sobecoming,” she said. “Betty, I never saw you look so pretty. And you don’t need rouge, either.”
“I should hope not,” laughed Betty, looking at her own image in the mirror. “My cheeks are so hot and I’m so excited over this—I wonder why. I’ve been with Jack enough before.”
Doris was going to a party herself, and wished that her new dress, something promised, were ready. But it was not a big party like Betty’s. “Papa’s calling you, Betty,” said she, taking her place at the mirror which they shared.
Mr. Lee, who had been bringing out his car in order to take Doris around to the house of one of the freshman girls, was waiting for Betty in the living room. “Just a word, Betty, before any one comes for you. This is a large party, I believe?”
“Jack said so.”
“Will there be dancing?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Very likely.”
“Well, as you know, Betty, we do not forbid dancing and I have no doubt that this place where you are going is all right. I intended to inquire more about the people, but it slipped my mind. I have several things to think about, you know.”
“Yes sir. Let’s sit down, Father. I’m all ready but my wraps.”
Mr. Lee sat down and Betty perched on the arm of his chair.
“As I said,” Mr. Lee resumed, “we do not forbid the proper sort of dancing. I suppose it is natural for youngsters to like to move to music. And yet it is true that so many evils are connected with the dance—well, our church does not forbid it, but it frowns on all sorts of looseness in manners and company. The chief thing is to keep oneself with the best type of people, I suppose.” Mr. Lee looked off reflectively.
“I scarcely know how to warn you, Betty. But I suppose your mother has told you that there is a certain reserve, a certain distance to be maintained by a nice girl when girls and boys mingle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is a part of charm and attraction and the delicacy that we want our sweet girls to have. Loudness and boldness and familiarity are just the opposites; and I have no fear that my Betty girl will ever have those qualities. But look out for it in others, andhave a care, Betty. That is all, my child. How pretty you look. Have a good time.”
“Oh, I’m going to, I know. Thanks for the warning, my daddy. I’ll try to be good!”
In a few minutes Betty was off. Mr. Lee was just drawing his own car from the curb when a handsome car drew up behind his. He was glad to see that it was full of young people. The lad had not come for Betty in his roadster. Oh, to put off the special pairing and above all, love-making, as long as possible! But after all, his girl would have to handle it herself.
In the car Betty found herself with several persons whom she did not know. Mathilde was there, and Jack informed Betty that this was the “inner circle” of guests. Jack was as easily polite as ever, but his eyes were bright and he talked a great deal, excited, too, over his birthday and wanting to play the host.
A chauffeur drove, which was just as well, and after this group was deposited, drove off again. With the rest, Betty was conducted into the handsome new house, of brick and stone, and introduced to Jack’s mother, who was receiving with him. A very pretty girl, black-eyed and looking not a little like Jack, was his first cousin, as introduced, vivacious and pleasant.
A maid in newly furnished upstairs rooms had helped the girls off with their light wraps and scarfs, but Betty was more interested in seeing Jack’s relatives than the house. “Oh, Dad!” called Jack as he showed his guests to seats, “come in for a minute.”
A tall, heavily built man with a very red face came in from a room which Betty supposed was their library from a glimpse she had of some bookcases. He shook hands with the arrivals, made a few jovial remarks and gave Betty a special look over his glasses. “So this is Miss Betty. I have heard of you. You may imagine where. Jack is a good picker of—friends.”
Betty blushed a little, to her disgust, but smiled warmly at Jack’s father. Perhaps he was nicer than he looked. Anyhow, it was pleasant to be liked. The rooms were furnished with taste. A baby grand piano and the very latest in radios were part of the equipment. Oriental rugs were on the floor. Betty appreciated all that since she had learned about values and beauty in such things. A few of them, in her own simple home, however, satisfied Betty Lee.
One after another the young guests arrived. This was to be a real dinner party, many as there were to be served. Dinner at the Lees had long since been over, but dinner here was served at eight o’clock—and such a dinner! Betty enjoyed it thoroughly, especially as she was Jack’s companion, though Jack’s cousin from away was the guest of honor. Dainty courses and more substantial food, prepared in the most appetizing way, were offered. But Betty noticed wine glasses by their plates and wondered. Would wine be used at Jack’s?
But in the midst of conversation and consumption of food Betty did not disturb herself over what the future might bring. Nevertheless, she was disturbed when the butler filled the glasses. She would be polite, and said nothing. Immediately, however, some of the boys grew a little hilarious, talking about their “prohibition beer.” Jack nodded to the butler, who went around putting something else in some of the glasses.
Betty gave a questioning look toward Jack, who turned to her at that moment. “That won’t hurt you, Betty,” said he. But he pulled something from his pocket and laughingly, teasingly, poured some sort of liquid into the glass of his cousin.
“Any good, Jack?” asked she.
“The best my bootlegger can get,” laughed he in return.
Betty felt sick at the thought. Perhaps he was only joking. He must be. But other boys were doing the same thing, adding something from odd bottles around the table. There were scarcely any boys and girls that she had known in school, though she had met some of them at Lucia’s. Perhaps it was a good thing that Lucia had not been able to come. Mathilde, Betty saw, was enjoying herself thoroughly and did not refuse any of the liquor. Jack turning away from his cousin again, told Betty that she was just a “little prude, but a very sweet one,” “You’ll get over it, Betty. Try a little, just to please me.”
“I’m sorry, Jack, but I can’t,” said Betty. “I’m wishing you just as many happy returns, you know.”
“All right this time,” returned Jack, for he was in a happy mood and the stimulating drink made him only more affable so far. It was not the first that day.
This was the beginning. No one seemed to be the worse for anything at dinner. There were some games and then the dancing begana lavictrola, though Jack apologized for not having an orchestra. “Nobody could come,” said he—“previous engagements. It was my fault for letting it go until too late.”
Betty never did relate the details of what occurred later in the evening, other than to say that matters grew worse, that both boys and girls drank from flasks and that Mr. and Mrs. Huxley had left with some guests soon after dinner, which they had had privately. She had enjoyed the fun at first and forgot about the wine till forced to notice it when the flasks came out, not very surreptitiously. But at last she came to the conclusion that it was no place for her. She looked for Jack and saw that he was more than half intoxicated. One boy asked her to dance and began to embrace her as he asked, hot, liquor-laden breath indicating his state at this time. It was Jack’s chum.
Betty slipped from his arms with an apology. “I’ve a headache, Will, and I’m going to the dressing room to the maid a moment.”
That was satisfactory to the befuddled lad, and Betty, troubled and disgusted, and wondering how she was going to get home, flew upstairs. The maid was not in the dressing room where Betty had left her wrap and the scarf she wore around her head at her mother’s suggestion. She was glad of that. If she had to get home by street car it would not be so bad. But she had worn her light satin slippers and oh—it was raining! They would be ruined. Where was the telephone? She could call her father, though he might be in bed. It was midnight by this time, Betty supposed.
She wondered where the maid was and timidly wandered down the hall, peeping into rooms evidently used, or intended to be used, by any guest. Then the maid came hurrying from somewhere, too intent on whatever her errand was to notice Betty. But Betty asked, “Where is Mrs. Huxley, please?”
“Oh, dem folks is gwine off somewhere. Dey tells me to look afteh the young folks, an’ it’s too big a job foh one pusson. I done tol’ her so, but she’d had too much o’ dat bootleggeh stuff hehse’f at dinneh. Ah’s goin’ down afteh de cook. Dat young lady in dere’s donepassed out! An’ de butleh—he gone, too.”
The colored woman waved her dark hand indefinitely.
“Mercy! You don’t mean anybody’s dead!”
“No, honey, not daid. No, you jus’keep out. Ain’ nuffin yo’ kin do only git yo’se’f into trubble.” This addition was because Betty was evidently about to offer help, as she turned uncertainly in the direction from which the colored maid had come. With this, the maid disappeared down the stairs from which the sounds of revelry still rose. Betty went back to get her wraps. Did she have any car fare? Well if she didn’t, she’d get on anyhow, one of those cars where you didn’t have to pay till you got off. She’d give the conductor her name and address or give him the ring from her finger or—anything! Betty was getting panicky by this time. Shecouldnot go down stairs with her wrap, and run the risk of being discovered. Probably there was a back stairway. There was, as Betty discovered by looking along the upper halls. Dear me, she would know the way aroundthishouse again. She wondered why the maid had not gone down to the kitchen that way, but supposed that the cook was to be found somewhere else. It had stopped raining, after only a shower.
It was a lovely night, indeed, with a moon, which helped her around the house, through beautiful old trees and some newly planted shrubbery. There were cars parked along the drive, but the big car in which Betty had been brought was not to be seen. Of course, the chauffeur was driving the older Huxleys, or waiting somewhere for them. Betty knew that there were plays at the theatres and other entertainments going on.
With her scarf held tightly under her chin and her wrap gathered about her, Betty lightly flew to the drive and followed it around, not feeling so lonely where she could see a few of the rear lights. The walk looked spooky! She was almost lost in this neighborhood, but as she emerged upon a sidewalk, she could see at some distance the lights of a street car passing. Then it was not so late that the cars were off! Of course not—was she crazy? A few automobiles passed, but this was off from the main arteries of traffic. Like a slim ghost Betty hurried along, stopping once for breath and to see if her pretty bag contained any street car tickets. Had she had any idea of walking, she could have worn shoes and carried her satin slippers. But they were ruined. That rain had been a light shower, indeed, leaving the night as bright as before. It must have stopped almost as soon as she looked out to see it; but one little puddle, stepped in by the back exit, had been sufficient.
And now she had reached the street car line. She was safe, or hoped so. She hailed a car, and took comfort in the fact that there was an elderly woman also waiting for it. The woman scanned her slippers and said “You got caught in the rain, didn’t you!”
Betty had half a notion to ask her for the fare, but concluded that it would be easier to arrange with the conductor. To be real honest, she made her way straight to the conductor and sat down close to where he stood by the box into which one dropped tickets. Fortunately, there were only a few people on this car.
As soon as the woman had paid her fare and gone back to a seat in the after part of the car, Betty spoke to the conductor.
“Can you tell me how to get to this street?” she asked, naming the street and suburb.
The conductor began to punch a transfer, stopping a moment when Betty added that she hadn’t a ticket, but she was scared and wanted to get home and she could give him her father’s address and he would pay her fare. “What’s your father’s business?” asked the conductor.
Betty told him, as the conductor took in Betty’s appearance and the flying, pretty hair from which the scarf had become disarranged. “I’ll take a chance on you, young lady,” said the man with a half smile, “and pay your fare myself. So you got scared, did you? Better not be out alone so late.”
“Oh, never again! Never again,” gasped Betty. “Thank you, so much! Please what is your name, so we can pay you?”
The conductor hesitated, but evidently concluded that it was best to let the affair be settled that way. He told her, slowly.
Again Betty flew along the way home from the street car half an hour later. And oh, how good it was to see a light at home! Yes, Mother,Mother, was still up!
Several short rings did Betty give and when her mother opened the door, she began to cry and laugh a little so hysterically that her mother was alarmed. “What is it, my child? and who brought you home like this?”
Betty hastened to tell her mother that she was not hurt, “only all upset, Mamma,” but she had to have a little cry before she could tell all about it. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed more than once. “Poor Jack! And Mathilde didn’t know what she was doing the last time I spoke to her!”
“Come; you can tell me more tomorrow. I’m going to give you a little quieting medicine, Betty, and put you into bed. I am thankful that you are safe at home. Think about being snug in your own bed and forget the rest till morning.”
“But how’ll I ever explain, Mother—about leaving and everything?”
“That can be the least of your worries, Betty. Your father and I are the ones to ask for an explanation.”
“Oh.” Betty was thoughtful. “But you wouldn’t make a big trouble over it, would you?”
“Do you think that would be like us?”
“No. All right. It’s your affair, Mamma. It’s too much for me!” and Betty took the hot drink her mother offered her, instead of the medicine she had first suggested, and went to bed.
CHAPTER XVIAN UNHAPPY INTERVIEW
Then therewassomething in the remarks that had been made about Jack Huxley. Betty woke early after a few hours’ sleep, recalling the sound of low voices, those of her father and mother, talking over the matter, of course. Careful not to waken Doris, Betty presently gathered up her school clothes and went to the bathroom to dress; but she was not the first one up. She could hear some one, presumably her mother, moving about in the other part of the apartment.
Before Betty combed her tousled golden head, she hurried into the kitchen and found her mother fixing grape fruit for breakfast. It was during a sad but short interval without the little maid. Mrs. Lee looked at Betty with a whimsical smile and asked, “How’s the ‘wreck of the Hesperus?’”—for that was Betty’s favorite expression when she was tired.
Betty, rather white this morning, laughed a little. “How well you understand, Mother,” she said. “It doesn’t seem quite so tragic this morning, that is, for me. I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t it be better for me not to tell about this and just to say what a good dinner it was and how much trouble they went to to give Jack a big party, if the girls ask about it?”
“Decidedly so, Betty, for the sake of everybody concerned. You were caught in a group about whose doings we’ve heard. We’ll find out more again before you accept an invitation. But there was no intention on the part of any one to annoy or injure you, though there was not the proper chaperonage; and of course the whole setting was as different as possible from what we approve. But you don’t mean that you would continue a special friendship with Jack, do you?”
“Oh, no!” Betty looked rather distressed at the thought of Jack. “If I hadn’t been so stubborn, I might have known. There were little things—and then his ideas—and a few things said. But Jack is really a dear boy, Mother.”
“Yes. So your father said. We talked a good part of the night.”
“I suppose so. I’m sorry, Mother. Well, I’ll handle it the best I can, and I decided that I’d not act offended about it to Jack, but just tell him frankly all about how I felt. I wish I could say something to make him see how it is, but I suppose there isn’t much use trying.”
Mrs. Lee smiled. “It is to Jack’s credit that he has been attracted to the sort of a girl you are, Betty. There is certainly no advantage in being unkind; but you must be firm about such associations. No, I suppose with his parents’ ideas, his environment and possible heritage, it would be a difficult thing to pull Jack away from that sort of thing; and I should not like to have my daughter run the risk that much association there would bring.
“Your father and I felt very indignant at first. We do yet in a way. But you escaped harm, providentially. No good will be achieved by your adding to the gossip that there will probably be about it. The effect of ‘public opinion’ is sometimes a deterrent, but in the case of young people, your father and I always think private correction is the best. Just keep as still as you can Betty, and see what happens. Surely Jack will make some inquiry in regard to how you got home.”
Betty shook her head doubtfully. “Perhaps he got to be like the girl the colored maid said had ‘passed out.’ I was so scared for a minute, thinking that she meant really dead! If he did, he wouldn’t know a thing about it. It’s very queer. I suppose his father and mother really didn’t expect it to go so far. When they came back in the car, it was to be used to take us home, I suppose.”
“Not much use in supposing. Think out what you want to say at school about it Betty, and we shall see what happens. I have in mind what I want to say to Jack’s mother some time. Run along and finish dressing, and awaken Doris, please. You will feel better when you have breakfast. Think about your lessons now, if you can.”
“I can all right,” replied Betty with a toss of her head and the ghost of a smile at her mother, as she followed directions.
The full program at school was a blessing that day. “Have a good time at your party?” asked several of the girls who knew about it, putting the question in various ways and at different times. And Betty brightly replied that there was a “wonderful dinner” and “quite a crowd.” Neither Jack nor Mathilde was at school, which lessened Betty’s embarrassment. She really dreaded to meet Jack Huxley. Lunch she hurried through and fortunately there was no practice in anything after school. She hung from a strap in the crowded street car and escaped any prolonged conversation with any one.
“There has been no telephone message from Jack,” her mother said, upon Betty’s inquiry. “I thought hemightcall up to see if I had gotten home all right, but of course he’d hate to say why he didn’t come himself. I have half a notion to call up Mathilde.”
But Betty thought better of this. She would not make the first move. And she certainly would never apologize for leaving that party! “Was everyone intoxicated, Betty?” asked her father as he had an opportunity to talk with her privately.
“Oh, no. But almost all the boys and girls had taken a little of whatever it was and were more—lively, you know, or silly, and there were a few, like me, that didn’t know what to do with the silly ones, at least they looked as if they were not enjoying it, and it was sort of loud and noisy—oh, I can’t tell you all the little things that made me feel I didn’t have to stay and stand it. If Mrs. Huxley had been there, I would have gone to speak to her. I thought of leaving a note for her, but I didn’t have any paper or pencil. But I’m not sure that she would have thought it as horrid as I did.”
“We shall see that you do not have such an experience again, Betty,” said her father. “You will have to have a talk with Jack, of course. That is inevitable. But I am sure that you are able to meet the situation.”
Betty was not quite sure justhowshe could meet it, but the very distance from the party was helpful now, in point of time and reflection upon it. Two days went by. No Jack at school. Mathilde was there, but carefully keeping away from Betty as Betty was keeping away from her. Then came the week-end and Monday again. Jack was in his classes. Lucia Coletti was back having had a touch of tonsillitis. Betty saw her and overheard her saying to Jack that she was “so sorry” she missed his party.
But some little echo of affairs had reached the school. The junior reporter of the school paper came to Betty with a puled look upon her face. “Betty, tell me about Jack Huxley’s birthday party. We were going to make a note of it, mostly something nice about Jack, if we could, though it wasn’t a junior party, of course, and I heard that they were mostly outsiders. How about it?”
“There was a notice of it in the newspaper. Did you see that? In the junior society doings?”
“No.”
“There was a list of names given, the more prominent ones, at least, though I was omitted by some terrible mistake.” Betty was laughing as she said this. She had been thankful enough when she saw that the list was not complete.
“Well, I missed that. But Betty—one of the boys handed me something intended for a joke on Jack, perhaps, but I’ve heard something else, too—that it was a wild party and that they had flasks and drank—but you wouldn’t have been to one, would you?”
“Not if I could help it,” laughed Betty, speaking quite honestly at that. “What was the joke on Jack?”
The girl looked through some notes she had. “I haven’t brought it, I guess. Why, it wanted to know why Jack wasn’t able to come to school the next day after his party, and some more like that.”
“I don’t believe I’d put that in,” said Betty. “Jack hasn’t been here very long; and besides, if thereisany gossip, it would only make it worse. I’ll hunt up the account in the paper, if you like, and bring it to school tomorrow. You might just copy it and add something like congratulations to Jack on his birthday. Mrs. Huxley certainly made a great dinner for Jack, served by their butler and other servants, and the house is beautiful, new, you know. Yes, the crowd was mostly older than we juniors are. Mathilde was the only one I really knew, though I believe there were two or three senior girls there.”
“Thanks, Betty. I thought you would know. I believe I’ll do what you suggest and if you’ll bring that account tomorrow it will be in plenty of time. All the copy has to go in tomorrow afternoon.”
The young “reporter” ran away satisfied and Betty turned, to come face to face with Jack. She flushed and her heart beat a little faster than usual. How she dreaded the interview which must occur sooner or later!
Jack was as sober as she ever saw him look, and she did not realize how thoughtful and serious a face she raised to him. Brown and blue eyes regarded each other for a moment. “Betty,” said he, “I’ve got to talk to you. When can I see you?”
“Would you like to come out to the house?” inquired Betty.
“I should say not!” Jack seemed more startled at the idea than rude. “Can’t I see you after school? I’ve got my roadster.”
Betty shook her head negatively at that suggestion.
“If you don’t want to ride with me, Betty, I’ll take you to the nearest park or tea room, where we can talk. I wouldn’t mind having you seen with me today, after what I understand they’re telling, about the party, in school. Would you do it? What was that girl asking you—if you don’t mind telling? I heard you say ‘Jack,’ as I came up and stopped to wait.”
“That was the reporter for the paper, Jack. I think I fixed that for you.”
“Thanks. I just found out, Betty, that you went home by yourself. I was mad about it at first, but I got over that and I think I owe you an apology.”
“Yes. I think you do, Jack. But it might be just as well if you’d stay mad. Still, we must talk it over. We’ll be late to our classes now, Jack. See me after school. I’ll meet you in front and we’ll decide then where to go.”
Betty hurried off, but it was a gym class this time and with the changing of shoes, or the donning of bathing suits for the pool, there was often some irregularity in appearance at the exact time. As Betty cut the water like the goldfish her father sometimes called her, she wondered what in the world she would say to Jack. Yes, she would let him drive her to the small park not far away. There was the chaperonage of people coming and going, and yet they could talk uninterrupted. If it would do him any good in the eyes of the school to have her seem to be as friendly as ever, she would be glad. Under the circumstances, it could not hurt her and their future dropping of contact was no more than often happened anyway. But Betty did not take lightly what had happened. She would tell Jack just how she felt about it. Yet, dear me, the more you thought about it the worse it was; and who could tell beforehand what she was going to say? Usually it was something entirely different from what you had thought up!
Chet Dorrance and Chauncey Allen, racing to the street car together, saw Betty walking toward the side street with Jack. “I wonder if Betty’s folks would like to have her go around with Jack Huxley if they knew all about him,” Chauncey was looking after Betty, as they stopped to let a few machines pass before crossing to take their car or wait for it.
“I suppose that party must have been all right,” said Chet, “in spite of what they say, or Betty wouldn’t be with him now.”
“You never can tell about a girl,” replied Chauncey. “I’m sorry to say it, Chet, but maybe she likes him.”
“Don’t mind me, Chauncey,” facetiously said Chet, with a grin. “Maybe she does, but I’d rather see Betty pick out some other sort of a boy.”
Meanwhile Betty was settling herself in the gay roadster and Jack was starting.