CHAPTER XIAN INTIMATE VIEW FOR JANET
“I shall have to begin with apologies again,” commenced Betty Lee’s letter to her earliest chum, with whom she still carried on the fitful correspondence. “But one good thing is that you know how it is yourself. And the longer you wait to get at writing the more likely you are to put it off, since there keep coming more things to tell.
“However, I’ve had a letter in mind for ages and I’m going to tell you EVERYTHING and answer all your questions. So this may string out for PAGES. Be PREPARED. As you see, I’m using Father’s typewriter and I’m learning to use it fairly well now. 5hi$ i$ the way I began @nd 8 though*t it w@S greAT Fun. amy LOU¢Who i$ allowed to 5ry if She is very c@reful¢had a g@me wi5h me to $EE if we cou#d re@d eaCH Others writing. I hope you get it!
“By the way, don’t start in reading this to Sue, if I’m going to tell you EVERYTHING as of yore, since All that I shall say will not be for publication. Do you remember how in our notes to each other we printed in capitals the words we desired emphasized? What good times we used to have! Well, we have good times now, only different, and I wish I could see you oftener.
“I’m thinking right now that it’s a real consolation to have somebody who knows you of old, somebody that you grew up with. No matter how wildly I RAVE ON, you will understand, I rather think, and will not be too critical—supplying a grain of salt here, if I’m extravagant in my remarks, and a bit of imagination there, when I give you a hint! Now don’t think that any dark secret is to be revealed, but I’m sure that you willinstinctivelyknow what I am confiding just to you.
“I wrote you after we moved, I’m sure, and told you how much we like the house. For fear I omitted something I’ll just say that it is a brick colonial, with a pretty approach and entrance, shrubbery and trees and flower beds and vines that will look wonderful again after winter is over. I’ve had one party in the big rooms downstairs and Mother has had a few teas and friends in to dinner. She likes to entertain in small numbers best, to visit.
“Doris had her party, too, and I thought I’d perish with mirth when I overheard Dick tell his best chum, as they clattered down from Dick’s room one day, that he ‘thought he’d sling a stag party pretty soon.’ He ‘slung’ it and we all pitched in to make the boys have a good time with especially good things to eat. But the twins want to entertain together, for the most part and most of their friends are in their class—sophomores, now!
“Best of all, Father is pretty sure that he will buy the place, and then weshallfeel settled. It depends, naturally, on when the necessary SPONDULICS are at hand and Father does not speak of that. But it is pleasant to have a nice home, and though we’ll never try to live up the the MURCHISON MILLIONS, we are glad to have a whole house to ourselves, with plenty of room to spread out and somebody to help Mother. We girls still do little things and are supposed to take care of our own mending, etc.; but Mother gives us our time for lessons and other things and I’m sometimes in such a rush that I wish I had a maid, like Lucia, to pick up after me! Father does not seem to think that I am PERMANENT here and teases me a little sometimes. But more of that anon. You know how he is!
“Now to give you a bird’s eye view of what I am doing. First and foremost, I’m trying to run the G. A. A. The girls usually elect the spring before but it was put off and put off until it was not done at all. So several of us were nominated and I was elected, and although I was pleased with the honor my heart almost sank at the JOB! Still, it hasn’t been so bad because our class has always been greatly interested in athletics and I can head almost any committee with a capable senior girl and leave it to her to carry things out. We’ve had membership campaigns and pep squads and the usual games and contests. I must remember to send you copies of theRoar, from time to time. Sometimes the write-up is real cute.
“It would take me a week to write you about all the doings, from home room elections and meetings, Girl Reserve programs—under Kathryn as president this year—to the exciting football games of the boys’ teams. Our school won the championship and the boys are working hard to make the basketball record as good.
“Our senior hockey team, of which I was the captain, WON! I certainly was glad of that! I’m not on the basketball team because the folks don’t want me to be, but I’m almost as interested. Both Carolyn Gwynne and Kathryn Allen are playing. ‘Finny’ could not get on this time. Gwen Penrose turned out to be a wonderful player and is captain! We ought to win the inter-class contests, which are already posted. We play each class, of course—I’ll scribble off the schedule and enclose it. The seniors begin the games, playing the sophomores on February eleventh. We have the usual crazy names for our teams.
“But what is most interesting of all to me is the annual mileage swim, or MARATHON, and I hope to have chevrons and points and so on. I’ve told you all about honors before. That is one reason for this letter. I am supposed to be resting after swimming ‘lengths.’ Then we seniors want the class championship, and so many of us are good swimmers, easy swimmers, that we stand a good chance of getting it. All that is going on now and the last copy of theRoarcalls us the mermaids. Can you realize, Janet, that it is actually February now, and of our senior year? When you write, tell me everything about all of them in our old class in Buxton High now, and some of them dropped out, I know, and some I don’t know at all that have come in since I left.
“To go back a little, we had all the lovely Christmas season as usual, with the customary carolling and gift making and looking after our poor. I’m glad to think that now ‘Ramona Rose’ and her mother are happy as they can be before they have Ramon back, all cosy at the Murchison’s. The new Mrs. Murchison had been very glad to have Rose, for there was a change of butler and everybody, almost, after the countess went away.
“I have seen a good deal of Lucia Coletti. She is more or less lonesome without her mother there, but both parents were here at Christmas time and now they are in South America. The count is a great traveler, but has his wife with him this time. Lucia is doing splendid work in her lessons and they are so proud of her!
“To tell the truth, I suppose the things we think about most are lessons, getting them and how to find time to get them! But I don’t know that they are themain objects in life!Wouldn’tyou find it interesting to have me quote a page of Virgil, or give you extracts from my last English theme! After the Christmas parties we buckled down to work again, and we have recently survived the ‘mid years.’
“It certainly was hard to keep up my work the first semester, but I concentrated on the main things, and then it did help having Chet Dorrance and the other boys we know so well busy with their freshman work in the university! Well, some of them went away to school, too—other colleges. There wasn’t much social life till the holidays—a few parties and meeting each other at games and so on. I am still on the honor roll. I wouldn’t dare drop down from that, or Father would have me drop some other things. Anyhow, there is only one way for me to study and that is togetthe work. We still have Latin and Math and other clubs, but the meetings for the most part are in the class period, so that isn’t so bad. They are interesting, too. I shudder to think how many of my different activities will be listed in our year book that will be published the end of the year. I’m on that staff, too, but I haven’t much to do yet. A teacher has it in charge, for it is too important to trust it altogether to our ignorance!
“But oh, Janet, we are growing up! Yes, the report was true about Mathilde and Jack Huxley. Mathilde wears a big diamond and they are always together. Mathilde is very snippy to me, a little more so than ever, and I can’t imagine why, unless it is because Jack started out by being quite attentive to me last year, for just a little while, you know. I gave you a hint of that affair—which you must notbreatheto any one—ever! Mathilde and Jack are both a little older than the average of our class and the latest is that they are to be married soon after they graduate, with a big wedding, and go abroad for their wedding trip. Jack has only part work with us this year and is doing something at the university, too. But he told me himself that he did not want ‘any more school.’
“You ask me about ‘love affairs,’ but I gasped when I read what you wrote about Jo’s being so attentive. Was it to prepare me? ‘Janet and Jo,’ I said to myself. I haven’t seen Jo for so long that I probably would not know him. If he is going so far away he will probably want a pledge from you before he leaves. It looks like a good opportunity for him. I couldn’t tell from what you wrote just how you felt about it yourself. If this keeps on you will have to decide whether you want to be engaged or not and whether you like Jo enough. As I read your letter, I could remember the row of heads in the family pew in church, toward the front, and Jo’s was the highest up, among the three Clark boys. He was ‘one of the big boys’ to me after we began to go to school.
“And now telling you ‘EVERYTHING’ doesn’t seem to be so much, after re-reading your letter again and thinking about how little I really have to tell. I was in what Mother calls an ‘expansive’ mood when I began this letter and as it’s been written in ‘hitches’ it seems to be more or less of a boiled down record of what has happened. And on second thoughts it seems silly to write down some things, that I should probably blather about if I saw you. You will probably like to hear about the boys that I wrote of last summer in my long letter from Maine. Chet was pretty nice. I do like him ever so much, Janet, but he knows that I’ll not stand for anything sentimental, at least yet, and all he does is to take as many dates as he has time for and, I imagine, keep an eye on me. I don’t reallyknow, Janet, that Chet himself thinks of anypermanent arrangementbetween us. I’d be very conceited, I think, to suppose that any boy is very much in earnest when he hasn’t said so—yet Chet has been a friend for so long that there may be a little excuse for being on guard to ward off anything else. I certainly haven’t the least idea how to handle it, if it needs handling at all—for Chet is going clear through college somewhere.
“Father says to me, ‘Please, daughter, no high school engagement.’ I suppose I agree with him that his ideas are always sensible. Probably Iamtoo young to know how to choose a ‘life partner.’ Still, he and Mother weren’t awfully old. They can’t saymuch. And if acertain personshould ask me—well, it might be a little hard to refuse! I’m ‘going on’ eighteen, after all. Father says, if I want to go, he will give me a year in a girls’ college somewhere. But that takes a long time to arrange ahead, so I think it will be the ‘home town’ university at first.
“Oh, yes, I started in to tell you about the boys. No, I can’t tell who that ‘certain person’ is. Besides, I might change my mind. Ted, the boy that impressed me so when I first came to the city, is still a dear but does not figure in my dreams any more at all. He is just as fine a boy as could be, but he likes too many girls and I have to be the one and only! I think that Chet is less—temperamental, as they say. But nobody can help loving Ted.
“Larry Waite, about whom I’ve told you a little at different times, is very much of a gentleman, adores the water, just as I do and seemed to find me a congenial spirit this summer. That doesn’t mean a thing, however. I had one little note from him after I came home and perhaps I’ll have a valentine from him and from Chet on Valentine’s day, coming so soon now. He is Marcella’s brother, you remember, but isn’t home much because he has been East to school. But like me, he will be graduated this June and I don’t know what he is to do after that. We didn’t talk about it last summer.
“Arthur Penrose is in art school and writes to me once in a while. Chet didn’t like it much when I showed him a letter from Arthur, so I never showed him any more! The Penroses live here, you know, so it’s perfectly natural for us girls to see Archie and Arthur once in a while. Gwen we see every school day and some more!
“I shall have to hurry this up, though I’m not half through. Yet it’s abookalready! I’ll try not to be so long again in getting to a letter. Yes—we have a Valentine Party—well, I’ll write you a card at least after that is over. I want to mail this tomorrow morning on the way to school, or give it to Father to mail for me, and Mother says Ipositivelymust go to bed now!
“Please tell me if anything has happened in your young life and I will do better next time.”
With the usual affectionate close, Betty finished her closely scribbled sheets and put them in an envelope. It was something to have gotten off so long a letter in the intervals of one afternoon and evening.
CHAPTER XIIVALENTINES
“Marcella specializes in costume parties, doesn’t she!” brightly asked Peggy Pollard of Betty Lee as they fell in together going to gym. “Do you remember that first party we went to there, when we were sophomores, wasn’t it? That Hallowe’en party?”
Did Betty remember that? Well, rather! But Betty merely said “’M-h’m—nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Marcella is an awfully capable girl. People at the university are taking notice of her, they say, even if she is only a freshman. I’m glad I was in the same sorority with her. She’s gone right into one of the best now in the university.”
“And I’m glad that for some unheard of reason Marcella’s been a friend of mine. Besides, she is inviting all of us that were up in Maine with her last summer. Dear me—it all seems too long ago now, and yet how this year has simply flown!”
“More than half over, Betty, and we’ll have our little diplomas before we know it.”
“Yes, but don’t forget that we’ve a few things more to do before we earn ’em!”
“Don’t bring up anything disagreeable, Betty,” laughed Peggy. “But there are lots of good times ahead, too. And we’re going to win the basketball class contest or know the reason why!”
Betty nodded affirmatively.
“The team work between Carolyn and Kathryn is simply marvelous. Have you been to any of the practice games recently?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been too busy even to play a game of anything myself. But you must remember that the sophomore team is especially good. They were fine as freshmen last year. I hope our girls realize that. I haven’t more than just seen Carolyn and Kathryn for a week! The sophs are better than the juniors, I think.”
“How’s the old swimming coming on?”
“All right. I think I’ll be one of those that get chevrons.”
“‘Think!’ You will probably be ahead of them all in number of lengths, provided you want to be. When do the senior Red Cross tests come on?”
“The last of next month or the first of April. O joy! We’ll soon be riding again over the old bridle paths! Peggy, you ought to have gone into it last fall.”
“Not me. Too many other things. If I ever want to learn to ride, there is time yet.”
“The younger the better. Doris wants to begin next year.”
“By the way, that little sister of yours has grown up all at once.”
“Hasn’t she! And Doris is making her own mark—says she; isn’t going to be known as ‘Betty Lee’s sister!’ She is going in for swimming, too, for we’re all like frogs for the water; but she is choosing her own activities and has the benefit of all my mistakes to warn her.”
“You never made any mistakes, Betty Lee.”
“What nonsense! But youmeanwell, Peggy.”
With smiles the girls parted, Betty to go to the pool and Peggy to swing and exercise with the general equipment. Rosy and invigorated after her swim and shower, Betty reached home at last to find everything in an atmosphere of valentines. Doris had stopped to purchase a dozen or more and called Betty into her room to see them. She was addressing envelopes at her desk, a cherished acquisition of Christmas time.
“Aren’t these pretty ones, Betty? I don’t think I’ll send any comics, unless some pretty respectable ones to a few of the girls. I almost got one for you, Betty—a real cute and crazy one of a girl, with a violin, that thought she could play. But the verse wasn’t very smart. I could have made up a better one myself.”
“Hum,” said Betty. “This is Betty Lee—who thinks that she can play.”
“But she may find out better,” suggested Doris, and Betty finished it with, “At no far distant day.”
“Let’s write a book of ‘pomes,’ Betty,” laughed Doris, “like Alice and Phoebe Gary.”
“Great! You write the first few; and we’d better let Dick in on it, too, for some way I don’t feel the poetic urge just now.”
“What’s that about the poetic urge?” asked Dick Lee, appearing at Doris’ open door. “May I come in? Gee, it’s nice and warm in here. The wind’s blowing in the direction of my room and we’re having some snow—ha-ha! Won’t it be great if we have skating again? No February thaw for me!”
Dick had his hands full of papers and asked if the girls wanted to see a work of art. Naturally they did, though Doris did remark that it depended on whose work of art it was.
“Here’s the best one,” said Dick, laying out on the desk a large sheet of paper. “It’s only the design, you understand, girls. This is to be worked out in color—perhaps.”
“Say—this is cute, Dick!” exclaimed Doris. “Why, it’s all right as a pen and ink drawing. Why color it?”
Betty was laughing as she read. “I hope this is to an intimate friend,” said she.
“It is, all right,” replied Dick. “It’s for Buster and he’ll know who sent it, believe me. He knows my artistic style and we have a big joke about his Cicero. He hates it and if he ever gets through in Latin it will be with a couple of summer schools!”
Scallops and various marks around this picture of a valentine indicated that Dick might cut it out in fanciful form. In the middle of the top, above the verse which Dick had composed, was the drawing of an ink bottle and pen, with various blots, here and there. At the right hand corner an arrow, markedSagitta, pointed toward the poetic lines. On the left, in the corner was a good drawing of a book, large enough to bear the small inscription, two words, one below the other, “Cicero Interlinear.” An array of small arrows pointed to the book, from the expression, “Liber Malus et Noxius!”
Below the verses was a comical picture, in bare outline, of a boy bending over a book, while a candle shed very definite rays around, though the inscription read “Burning the Midnight Oil.”
Other sketchy decorations showed “Bustum” tearing his hair, very crinkly pen-strokes, with “Horribile dictu” and original principal parts, long and short vowels carefully marked: “Hate-o, play-ere, fail-i, flunkum.”
The verses Doris read out loud, while Dick grinned and looked uneasy. “There’s nothing to ’em,” said he.
“If you’re so dumb, this valentineI send in vain; but heed it,Unless for years you want to stay,Translating—work, and beat it!”
“If you’re so dumb, this valentineI send in vain; but heed it,Unless for years you want to stay,Translating—work, and beat it!”
Betty laughed and pointed out where a change of punctuation was advisable. “What’s your ‘Factum Romae’ that you sign it?”
“Made in Rome. Now youaredumb, Betty. Locative for Rome, and I thought I’d better use the neuter singular—don’t know what ‘Valentine’ would be.”
“I see.Hoc Romae factum est, as it were.”
“Ye-ah. I’d have put in more Latin, but it would give Bustum a pain and he wouldn’t take the trouble to translate it. I hope he realizes the trouble I’m taking.”
“That’s an idea, Dick,” said his twin. “I think I’ll fix up something like it myself. Do you care?”
“Nup, only I’d rather Bustum got his first.”
“All right. I’m not going to send very many through the mail anyhow—mostly leave them on the desks or get somebody else to hand them out. It isn’t like the good old days in the grades!” Doris laughed over her own memories.
“Amy Lou is going through that now, and it’s lots of fun, Doris. Let’s see that she gets plenty through the mail, too. She’ll smell a mouse if valentines in the mail box haven’t any stamps on them.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Some of her friends might slip up and put them there.”
As Dick’s efforts had started them, the girls began to make up verses. Betty brought her pencil and paper for scribbling and hunted up some old materials for valentines that she had kept from former times. “We’ll get some at the ten cent store,” said Betty, “but if we can make a few pretty ones out of our old ones and this stuff, Amy Lou will like them and wonder who sent them.”
“Numbers of valentines have a lot to do with fun on Valentine’s day,” said Doris. “Let’s keep it going for Amy Lou—ring the bell and run, you know, and all that.”
It was a pretty thing for the two sisters to do for the younger one. Amy Lou might know about it some day, or she might not, but it was a pleasant mystery, and as Amy Lou was away, playing with two of her chums, there was no danger that the girls would be interrupted for a while. Pasting and finding envelopes would be done with remarkable speed by experienced hands. More time was spent over verses, for Amy Lou would recognize those taken from old valentines, whose laces and hearts and darts they were using. What matter if meter was lame? So was it in many of the valentines sold in the stores.
“My very heart I send to you,For there’s nobody quite like Amy Lou!”“O hearts and darts and pretty dove,To Amy Lou take all my love.”“Please welcome this heart and a Cupid;If I didn’t like you I’d be stupid.”“There’s a sweet little girl that St. Valentine knowsAnd he’s taking my heart in this letter.Can you guess who she is?Well, her name’s in plain sightAnd if you can’t guess—you’d just better!”
“My very heart I send to you,For there’s nobody quite like Amy Lou!”“O hearts and darts and pretty dove,To Amy Lou take all my love.”“Please welcome this heart and a Cupid;If I didn’t like you I’d be stupid.”“There’s a sweet little girl that St. Valentine knowsAnd he’s taking my heart in this letter.Can you guess who she is?Well, her name’s in plain sightAnd if you can’t guess—you’d just better!”
With such couplets and longer poetic attempts, Doris and Betty prepared a number of suitable offerings for Amy Louise, hoping that she would be pleased. Doris locked them in her desk and both girls went to the window to stare at snow coming thickly down. Busy as they had been, they had not noticed except that it was growing dark. “Did you ever!” cried Doris. “Dick won’t get his skating, but we’ll have sleds out if this keeps up. Hurray for bob-sleds!”
“We’ll have to feed that robin in the ravine, Doris,” remarked Betty, looking out, rather dreamily, however. “He seems to be the advance guard and he’ll certainly wish he’d stayed behind!”
But Betty went back to her own room thinking of other things. A savory smell from the roast cooking for dinner came up through open doors in the well heated house. Gloria, the present light-footed, capable colored help, had made one of her “gorgeous” chocolate cakes that afternoon, too. Life was pretty nice. Butcouldit be possible that right in the middle of the term Larry Waite would come back for Marcella’s party, as he had before? Of course not! But then the unbelievable occasionally happened. It had happened at the Hallowe’en party. Larry had changed a little since then, but when he laughed it was the same merry face that had looked over her shoulder into that mirror!
What costumeshouldshe wear for the Valentine party? Mother did not seem to have any ideas and had told the girls that she should think they were old enough and into enough things to have scads of ideas of their own. Mother had not said “scads,” of course. Mother had been into a lot of things herself lately, since she had been entertaining a little and had helped the new Mrs. Murchison who was a later comer than herself in the city. They had had agrandWashington’s Birthday party at the Murchison’s and Mother had received with Mrs. Murchison, in the mostadorablecostume. If only that were suitable for a Valentine party!—provided Mother would let her wear it.
Well, if the worst came to worst she could always use something old. She’d go up to the attic and see what she could rout out. Thank fortune, Mother had not made them throw away any such treasures when they moved.
Betty went up into their “nice new attic” and rummaged in trunks till Dick’s most stentorian tones finally reached her. “Coming, Dick,” she called.
“For pity’s sake, Betty, what have you been doing?” asked Dick, as Betty threw off the sweater which she had wisely donned before going into less well heated quarters. “Mother called and Father called, thinking that you were in your room, and Amy Lou ran up and came down scared, thinking something must have happened to you. Doris said you weren’t going out anywhere. Then I went up and thought of the attic and yelled.”
“You certainly yelled all right, Dick!” returned Betty, laughing. “I’ll make my apologies to Mother. I never heard anything at all!”
“Dreaming over old love letters, I suppose,” said Dick. “Isn’t that what girls are supposed to do in attics?”
“Old love letters, indeed! I don’t get anynow, let alone having any old ones. How old do you think I am, Dick?”
“Seems to me it’s several years that certain persons of what Grandma calls the male persuasion have been coming around here, off and on.”
Betty said nothing to this, but made her apologies by asking the family to help her conjure up a proper costume for the important party, only two days off. “Tomorrow is the thirteenth,” said Betty, as if something of the utmost importance was approaching. Indeed it was, for not always did Betty get invited with the older boys and girls to a full party of them. But a healthy appetite and a fine dinner had great effect in making the present pleasant. The chocolate cake melted in the mouth and Father had stopped to bring ice cream to go with it.
Then, on the morrow—which became today—came the answer to Betty’s problem, through a valentine which came from—New Haven. The handwriting was disguised, Betty thought, at least it was not like that of the only two people who might have sent it to her. It was most likely to have come from Larry, and oddly enough, Betty felt disappointed, lovely as the valentine was. But its coming meant that he would not be here, of course.
Arthur Penrose was in Philadelphia now, but he sometimes visited Larry, with whom he had become quite good friends, and mightpossiblyhave been in New Haven. Matters of trains and distances and all that sort of thing were more or less hazy in Betty’s young mind. Anything could happen, and after all, couldn’t it? Arthur’s letters were only occasional now, but very friendly.
So she was in a pleasing state of uncertainty over the sender.
“It came on the morning mail, Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, who had noted the postmark and saw that Betty opened it first before several others from friends away from town. Valentines from friends in the city were likely to arrive on the day itself.
“Look at it, Mother,” said Betty at that, handing the large square of dainty white and colors and figures to Mrs. Lee. “I believe it is the prettiest one I ever saw. Look at that darling old-fashioned couple with Washington Birthday costumes, just beginning one of those square dances, and Cupid shooting darts straight at them!”
“He leads her out as if he likes her, doesn’t he?” said Mrs. Lee, “and the verse is good, though rather too much of a declaration. However, that it permitted on St. Valentine’s day. As your natural guardian, I am wonderingwhocould have sent it!”
“Let’s see it, Betty,” suggested Doris, who with a lapful of her own valentines was sitting near. The girls had come home together from school.
Betty took the valentine from her mother to hand to Doris. “I think it a little hard,” said she, “to think that the family has to know all about these tender messages of love!”
“Well,” said Doris, “I’m not so sure but this onedoesmean something. Who knows whom Betty’s charms may not have smitten in the East this summer? Confess, Betty. Who’s in New Haven?”
“I told you, several. That’s enough, Doris. Turn about, you know—I’d love to see that big one of yours. And please hand mine back.”
“Just a minute, Betty. It is a peach of a valentine:
“My heart is yours,And yet, dear me,I keep old-fashionedCourtesy.”
“My heart is yours,And yet, dear me,I keep old-fashionedCourtesy.”
Doris properly read “courtesee” to make the rhyme. “I’m glad he’s properly respectful,” laughed Doris, handing Betty her valentine. “I’ll give you mine in a minute.”
Mrs. Lee’s smiling eyes met Betty’s for a moment, and Betty let hers fall with a toss of her golden head. “They’dbettermind their manners,” said she. “Oh, here’s one from Janet, I know. It’s her writing, and dear old Sue—and Auntie—and Grandma. How nice to have friends!”
“Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, “your valentine has given me an idea. Why not go to the party as a valentine. Wear my colonial costume and paste this valentine to a bag, or your fan, and have some other cunning trappings that will be like valentines.”
“Mother! You perfect dear! Do you mean that you will let me wear that splendiferous costume? Oh, but it would be just the thing and all my worries about fixing something would be over!”
“I may never want to wear the costume just as it is again,” said Mrs. Lee, “and yet I may, so be careful. Doris may wear it sometime, too.”
“I’ll not be jealous, Mother,” said Doris quickly. She had been sometimes jealous in the past but had wakened to the fact that her parents had no real favorites and that “her turn” came surprisingly often. The difference in age between herself and Betty was lessening, so far as it made so much difference in interests and pursuits and Betty’s attitude was so generous as a rule that Doris would have been ashamed not to respond. The sisters were growing nearer this year.
“I will be just as careful as careful can be. Mother,” Betty made reply, with great enthusiasm, “I think that you are the best mother I ever heard of, even! And speaking of ideas! I never even thought of it, looking with all my eyes at that valentine, too. Now let me skip off and think out the whole costume!”
CHAPTER XIIIHEARTS AND MASKS
Although the colonial costume, which Betty’s mother permitted her to wear to the Valentine party, was new and in order, there was much else in decoration which concerned Betty and indeed the costume itself needed to be taken in a little to fit Betty’s more slender figure. She rushed home, accordingly, on the thirteenth, to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening on her preparations. “I studied like mad, Mother, in study halls; and Carolyn, Kathryn and I cut lunch to get out our Latin together!”
“I am afraid you should not omit lunch, Betty.”
“Oh, that was all right, Mother. We each had a chocolate bar and a cream puff and some peanuts, got ’em on the way to school, that is, I did. It was very obliging of St. Valentine to have his day this year toward the end of the week. Carolyn and Kathryn think that they will be valentines, too. Kathryn may dress as a ‘comic,’ though it depends somewhat on what costume she can get up the easiest. Carolyn has a lot of them that her sister has used at one time or another, and you know what nice ones they would be. O Mother, I think you are so lovely to let me wear this! You see, it isn’t as if it were an ordinary children’s party or just we girls dressing up as usual. I don’t know, indeed, whom Marcella may not have.”
“Well, come here and let me fit you, child. Allow me to remark that there isn’t as much change as might be expected from the difference in our ages.”
“O Mother, you are the youngest and best looking of us all! Ask Father.”
“He might either be prejudiced or hesitate to tell the truth,” laughed Mrs. Lee, and the fitting went on.
Another day of school was put through before the party. But it was St. Valentine’s Day and lessons were in the background of thought, it must be said. There were delightful interludes of receiving and giving valentines, with little mysteries even more interesting now than in childish days. And as the messages of St. Valentine might be regarded as carrying more romantic meaning now, the whole was more interesting.
One of the girls handed Betty a valentine which she was sure was from Mickey Carlin. He had probably bought it that morning and had not thought she would get it in time if he mailed it. Another, which she had taken from their mail box before she left home, also before the arrival of the mail man, bore in tiny letters on a corner inside the nameAndy. Andy Sanfordwasa good friend of hers and had been ever since a certain freshman party at Betty’s. The sentiment was somewhat sugary, Betty thought, but “anything goes on Valentine day,” she said to Carolyn, to whom she showed all her valentines without reservation.
Carolyn laughed at the verse, which expressed undying devotion, and remarked that even if Chet and “others” had gone to the university, they still had a few nice senior boys to make life interesting! There were quite a number, in fact, in the large senior class; and common interests, with working things out together made good friends. The “others” might be supposed, from Carolyn’s standpoint, to include Chauncey Allen, who had all at once become deeply interested in Carolyn during the latter part of his senior year.
But all other fun paled into insignificance at last in comparison with the evening’s entertainment. Betty tucked away her valentines, to be looked over again at some other time. In some excitement she made ready, running back and forth between her own and her sister’s room, for Doris, also was going to a party, though no costume was demanded.
“You look lovely, Betty,” said Doris, “andverydifferent”—then both girls laughed at the implication.
“No hint that you are not ‘always beautiful,’ understand! And your black silk mask is fetching—but they may know you by those dimples, and your mouth, of course.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” said Betty. “I’ll do my best to ‘keep my identity hidden,’ the way the detective can always do in stories. But if they find out—after the first—let ’em. Besides other girls have dimples. What in the world did I have to have them for!” Betty was rather disgusted as she looked closely into the mirror and practiced on expressions.
As the gentlemen of the party were not to know the costumes of the ladies, the girls were either brought by their natural protectors, or sent for by Marcella, or arriving by taxi. Mr. Lee said that he would “martyr himself for the cause,” and tucked Betty’s colonial skirts inside of the family car with great assumption of concern. “May you be brought home as safely,” said he, letting her scramble out of the car as she would, when they reached the Waite home. “It’s not very far,” said she.
A few flakes of snow were falling, lit up by the electric lights everywhere. It was a lovely world that February night. Betty’s heart beat high as with several girls as excited as she, doubtless, she climbed the steps toward the hospitable door.
Not long after, she descended the stair into the wide hallway, almost a part of the drawing-room, full of gayly costumed young people by this time. It happened that no one was coming to enter with her, for the dressing room to which she had been shown was empty and the girls who were supposed to follow her had dashed into Marcella’s room with an exclamation over some picture there. They were Marcella’s friends, either from the university, or of the “sub-debs” who were not in school at all now. Marcella numbered some of these among her friends, girls who were waiting for their entrance into society.
So as Betty hesitated a moment, looking at the bright decorations, the space clear before her, she made a pretty picture.
Hearts were in evidence everywhere. A flying Cupid, with bow and arrow, was suspended by a wire in a corner prettily fitted up as a sort of shrine to St. Valentine. Flowers gave fragrance and the spacious rooms were at a comfortable temperature. Marcella had spared no pains to make a pretty setting for her party.
She, too, was to be unknown till the unmasking. Accordingly, her mother and father and a visiting grandmother received the young guests and stood just within the limits of the drawing-room proper.
“Look at that sweet valentine standing there, wife,” said Mr. Waite, just aware of Betty and adjusting his glasses. “Who is she?”
“As I cannot lift her mask, I can not tell you, Lawrence,” returned Mrs. Waite, “but you are right. She looks as if she had just stepped out of an old-fashioned valentine. How cleverly that little lacy head-dress, with the heart in the middle of it, is arranged above her powdered hair! Larry ought to see her! Where is he, anyway?”
Betty glanced up the stairs, to see if the other girls were coming, but just at that moment, while the Waites were making their comments and Betty paused, St. Valentine himself in the person of one of Marcella’s friends, bethought himself of the duties which he had assumed to announce the guests. He detached himself from a little group which he had joined and came hurrying toward Betty.
His performance varied from the usual procedure; for he took her hand with a deep bow and led her to Mrs. Waite as he announced loudly, “Miss Valentine, a member of my own family!”
So led, with her quaint skirt and flowered silk overdress, a cascade of little pink hearts draped across her breast, Betty, like a pink rose from some old garden, went to give her hand in greeting. Very much grown up looked Betty in this costume, as her mother had regretfully told her. “But Iamgrown up,” Betty had replied.
She spread her fan a little, to act her part, and spoke in the formal manner of a polite stranger, though now, living only a few squares away, she had been here often and knew both Mr. and Mrs. Waite. Marcella’s mother was “a dear,” and Mr. Waite, slight, active, grey-haired, keen, was interesting.
“As you must be one of Marcella’s friends,” said Mr. Waite, extending his hand, “I shall dare to say that any lad here might be glad to see a valentine like this one coming his way. Don’t you agree with me, Mother?”
Marcella’s grandmother smiled assent and Betty made a sweeping curtsey to Mr. Waite as she turned to Marcella’s grandmother. She was afraid that they would recognize her voice, if she said too much.
“She does not want us to know who she is, of course; so don’t detain her, Father,” suggested Mrs. Waite. “I hope that you will enjoy yourself tonight. Marcella is somewhere about, but you will have to guess who she is. And she is the only one who will know you—for she, as you know, had to have a list of guests and characters to arrange the partners for the supper tables.”
In low but cordial tones, Betty finished her brief conversation with her host and hostesses and moved on to give her place to the other girls, who were now coming. A group of masked and costumed guests were right at hand and Betty joined them, to be greeted with gay laughter and compliment.
Meanwhile a conversation was going on, in the privacy of the library, in which Betty would have been interested.
“But I tell you, it simply can’t be done at this late date! It will just upset everything! I’ll have to change a lot of them all around. For mercy’s sake, why not see her all you want to all the rest of the evening? I’ll not tell the boys what character they’re to take out till the last minute. And there are the colonial dances for those dressed that way. Lucky so many of them dressed so—though I did ask some of my friends to do it.”
“Fat chance to talk in a square dance. My dear sister, have a heart! Why did I come all this distance to spend the week-end if not for the fun of saying some things masked that I can’t say without a mask?”
“I certainly don’t think much of that argument. I think I see myself listening to what a man hasn’t the nerve to tell me face to face!”
“You fail to understand, sweet chuck. It is less embarrassing and will lead up to what I intend to say ‘face to face.’ Moreover, I intend to say it in my owncharacter, if behind a mask at first. Now, please!Prettyplease! If there weren’t another in the running, and two or three of those nice kids, so far as I know, it wouldn’t make so much difference. Something Art Penrose said rather woke me up and I hired this costume, sent a valentine and took a train.”
“Then, honestly, are you in earnest where she is concerned?”
“I suppose I am, though it is a little early, perhaps, and I don’t know that I shall enter the waiting list. See?”
“Through a glass darkly! Still I have a lot of faith in you, too, and I’ll do it thisonce. But if you don’t tell me in time again, there’s going to be trouble in the family! Now come and help me with this list, if you think it so easy and will have your way!
“If you want my advice—faint heart ne’er won fair lady. She’s pretty mature in some ways and maybe, after all, you did well to come and see the situation yourself. You’d better write to her, too, and keep in touch until you both find out whether you’re as congenial as you think or not—or care enough for each other. I’ve admired more than one hero from afar and I ought to know.”
“Get over it, do they—the girls? Don’t think this one makes a hero of me, Sis, though our first meeting was a little romantic.”
“How was that?”
“I’m not telling.”
“I thought you saw her first at a party I had. You asked enough about her.”
“Did I? Well, you’re a sister worth having. Let me apply my keen intellect to that list of yours now. Seat us far away from that one fair youth that she was holding off, I judged, last summer.”
“Oh, it’s such a nuisance. I’ll have to change place cards and everything! Why do you always come rushing in at the last minute?” But this was said with a smile.
“Wait! Don’t despair. When I bought my valentines to mail I saw a lot of place cards and thought of your party. You had plenty, I saw, so I didn’t bring them out. I’ll run up and get them.”
“They won’t match, but—all right. Silly—but I kind of like you at that!”
CHAPTER XIVAN EXCHANGE OF HEARTS
“Look who’s here,” and kindred expressions, with frank comments on her idea and costume, greeted Betty at the beginning.
“There are some other ‘valentines,’ but none quite like yours,” said one gypsy, who wore an arrow caught through her belt, a silver one in her hair, and large red hearts sewed on her flowing sleeves.
Almost every one had on some emblem that recognized the day. Some of the boys had made themselves into clever representations of comic valentines, but Betty thought that Kathryn must have changed her mind about being one, as she could not find among them all any of Kathryn’s height. As to features, Betty had been sure that she could tell; but among so many shifting figures it was confusing. In general, there was the usual conglomeration of different characters.
Once Betty caught her breath at the appearance of a pirate, for all the world like the “Pirate of Penzance.” But while the costume seemed identical, so far as Betty remembered, after all, Marcella might have lent the costume. And when the young man drew near, whoever it might be, it certainly was not Larry. Well, of course. It had been silly to half expect—and hope—to see him.
There were compensations, however. She did not lack attention and she thought that she had been able to “fool” Chet, whom she had recognized by his laugh first. Her own voice she kept low and had practiced on a different laugh, though when amused she could not keep it up and smothered her natural laugh with her handkerchief. Even that was gay with hearts. She had seen it in a show window a week before and rushed in to buy it.
Guessing who people were was great fun and Marcella had something planned for every moment, it seemed. A tall clown announced the games, or what came next in the way of program. He wore a placard on his back that declared “I am Your Valentine.” That, certainly, could not be Larry. His fun would be more—um—elusive!
And now some musicians arrived. Betty happened to glance out of the window and saw them stamping snow from their feet and shaking the flakes from their hats. Their taxi must have delivered them outside, instead of bringing them around the drive inside the grounds, a natural mistake, perhaps, since the distance to the street was not great. And how it was snowing! Betty liked it, the beautiful dark and white rays from the lights, near or distant.
Inside, some one relieved them of coats and hats at once, and the bulky instruments in their cases were disposed about the hall, until they disappeared while a last game was going on, only to take their places in a palm-decorated corner near the piano, tune their instruments and start to play. Instantly feet began to tap in time to the measures, and some of the boys and girls began to dance in couples.
Betty’s feet fit snugly in the high-heeled shoes of her mother’s that matched the costume. They were none too comfortable and Betty thankfully sank into a big over-stuffed chair recently vacated, refusing an invitation prettily and deciding to rest first. But one could stand anything if it were fun, and when in a short time colonial square dances were announced, lo and behold, who should walk up to Betty, with an engaging, somehow familiar smile and an exaggerated, old time bow, but the duplicate of the picture upon her valentine!
Dancing eyes through their opening in the mask enjoyed her amazement. Velvet knee breeches, silk hose, shoes, powdered wig tied by a ribbon, even to coloring, the likeness was complete.
This was no accident. He did not look like the others. Could it be? “Oh!” she said in surprise, blushing under the bit of rouge and the tiny square of courtplaster supposed to be characteristic of that time gone by.
“Fair damsel,” said the stranger, “will you tread the mazes of the dance with me?”
“With great pleasure, sir,” coquettishly replied Betty, recovering from her astonishment and bethinking herself of her part.
She raised her fan, only to have it gently taken from her hand. “Permit me,” said the colonial gentleman with great courtesy. He tucked her arm in his own and walked with her to the space being cleared for them and the others.
“I haven’t happened to see you before,” said Betty, to make conversation.
“I have been about, but I did not come to the circle about Miss Valentine till now.” Then the formality was dropped and the voice became natural. “I came a long distance to dance this with you, Betty, though I knew nothing of the Colonial dances. And I didn’t dream that you would be wearing this costume—even to the lacy border in your hair, the rose, and the heart that proclaims you my valentine!”
Betty said, “Oh,” again. “Then you are—and you sent——”
“Yes, I am, and I sent, and I’m going to keep those kids away from you the rest of the evening, that clown with the hearts all over him in particular.”
Betty laughed. She was recovering, and oh, how happy! “Why that’s only Chet Dorrance. Why the dislike to him? Wasn’t he in all our fun last summer?”
“Yes.” Larry Waite bent attentively toward Betty, fanning her in the character of the old time gallant. Much could be said in the few moments before the music should begin. Precious little attention did either of them pay to the directions being given.
“But Marcella, at myurgent request, has fixed it up that I am to be your partner at supper. I suddenly decided to come for this, though I find that Father needs me on another matter and I must make the most of this opportunity. I hope that you do not mindverymuch, Betty!
“I am—surprised—andpleased, Larry. I had a shock when I saw the costume of the Pirate of Penzance.”
The erstwhile Pirate of Penzance laughed. “I like you in this costume, even better than I did when you were Titania. Tell me, Betty. Did you think that perhaps I sent the valentine and could it have influenced you to wear this?”
“Is this the game of ‘Truth,’ Larry?”
“Heaven knows I hope so!”
“I did think that you had sent the valentine and I thought it adorable. But the idea of this costume was Mother’s, because, you see, she had had it made for her own party, and I never dreamed of asking for it. Then fixing it up this way like the valentines as much as I could, was my doings.”
“Sweet doings, Betty.” Was Larry’s voice shaking a little?
“I have a million things to say to you, but they are going to strike up the music now. Yes, we’re coming to line up!”
This last was in answer to a summons. Betty, demure and self-possessed, took her place and the pretty mazes of the dance took her attention. But she had learned it in “gym” and she saw that Larry was at home in it. She was still somewhat thunderstruck. Was this the self-contained Larry of last summer? Of course there had been times when she had had a look from him, or—butwhatcould he be going to say to her?
There was no opportunity for private conversation now, though Larry with a twinkle whispered as they performed an evolution of the dance together, “How I wasted last summer!” He seemed to know her very thoughts! Betty’s hands were cold and she was rather highly keyed all through the dances.
But afterward Larry conducted her to where some one was beckoning them and told her on the way that he would have to mingle with the guests a little after all. “That’s Marcella beckoning. I know what she’s going to tell me; but I shall have you at supper at least, and may I take you home?”
Rather bewildered, yet decidedly radiant, Betty beamed upon Marcella, who said, “Excuse me, but I have a message for your partner.”
“The dance is over and you may have him,” laughed Betty, next smiling up at the clown with “hearts all over him,” who had taken pains to be at hand. Betty saw that Larry observed the clown; but there was nothing to be done except to be the same friendly girl to Chet that she had always been. They had the remembrance of many a good time together between them.
“I know you, Betty,” said Chet, “and I suppose you know me. Who is that guy that was with you!”
“I may have my ideas, Chet, but it wouldn’t be fair to tell.Isthat gypsy Kathryn? I thought she wouldn’t take such an obvious character.”
“Probably, since she is called Gypsy, that is the very reason she is one, because she would not be expected to do the obvious.”
“I think that you have grown very wise, Chet, since you have been going to the university. Tell me who some of these university girls are. Marcella was going to invite some sophomores, I know, like your brother Ted, and she is in that new sorority and would be likely to invite them all, wouldn’t she?”
“I suppose so. But you said it wasn’t fair, Betty, to tell.” Chet was looking humorously at her now.
“Now you have me! True enough. I’ll have to wait till the unmasking. But guessing is all right.”
“SupposeIdo some guessing,” meaningly said Chet.
“Why not?” countered Betty; but fortunately for Betty’s not having to respond to Chet’s surmises, one of the girls, a pretty shepherdess, came up to look more closely at Betty’s costume.
“If I had only thought of it, I might have been a real valentine, too,” regretfully said the shepherdess.
But events, the mingling, the talking, the varied entertainment arranged by Marcella Waite and her assisting sorority, moved rapidly. Betty was soon found by the colonial gentleman of her valentine, and formally escorted to the dining-room, spacious, and accommodating, tables arranged into one continuous and festal board, “like double T’s,” Betty said. “Oh,isn’t it pretty!” she exclaimed softly to Larry.
From the hanging lights above ran ribbons, gay in color and abounding, like everything else about the house, in appropriate decorations. The place cards were especially pretty. Betty’s represented Cupid carrying a cluster of hearts as well as his bow and quiver full of arrows. Below him was the outline of a single heart and within this an individual four-line “poem” ready for Betty’s reading: