CHAPTER XVIIICONCERNING LOST LETTERS
Considering what had happened some weeks before, Betty thought it one of the most important moments of her life when she was called to the telephone a day or so after her visit at Lucia’s and heard Marcella Waite’s voice at the other end of the wire.
“Betty?” inquired Marcella.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I am in sackcloth and ashes, Betty, and I hope that you can forgive me. Listen. Two weeks ago or so, I had a letter from Larry, a short one, such as he writes to hisrelatives, and in it he asked me if Betty Lee were sick. He said that he had written you after his hasty leaving at the party—you remember?”
“Yes,” said Betty, who after the first gasp of astonishment, which Marcella could not have heard, had had time to recover herself. (Larry had written! And she certainlydidremember.)
“Well, I forgot all about it—I’m living in such a rush, and you will understand, I’m sure, since you are in a rush yourself as a senior.”
“Of course, Marcella.” Betty was cordial. She could forgive anything. Larryhadwritten.
“So I didn’t even answer his letter—hewaits for ages sometimes; and I supposed if he’d written to you, you’d gotten the letter and answered it, if it called for an answer.”
“No, I have not heard from Larry at all, Marcella.”
“Yes? It dawned on me, Betty, after I received a special delivery letter this afternoon. I’m going down town for dinner with some girls and I’ll stop with his letter. I’m sending him a special delivery letter and I’ll put in, shall I—that you haven’t received a word from him?”
“Certainly, Marcella,” replied Betty, wondering what Larry had written.
“The letter will give you the facts, Betty. I’m writing an abject apology, but reminding him of certain delays on his side. If I’d had any idea that—well—see you later. ’Bye.”
About four o’clock, just as Betty was feeling that she could not wait any longer, a car stopped in front of the house and Marcella flew up the walk to the steps, where Betty met her with smiles. “I thought you would be in a hurry, Marcella. Thank you so much for bringing this. I did wonder not to have heard, since Larryspokeof writing.”
Marcella gave her a meaning glance. “Well, for my sake, be nice to Larry, when you do hear from him, and answer!”
“I will,” promised Betty. It was just as well, she thought, that Marcella would never know the heart-aches she had had over the missing letter. What could have become of it? And why hadn’t Larry written again? No, he would think she didn’t care.
Betty flew to the privacy of her room. Larry’s letter was brief but very much to the point. “Respected Sister,” he began. “In view of what I said to you on the evening of your party, it might have occurred to you that my question about Betty Lee was important.I enclose addressed envelope with special delivery stamps.Please reply at once. Is Betty sick? Have you seen her? Can you suggest any reason why she should not reply? The first letter was rather important because it explained something. I also wrote a card, inquiring, after I had not heard. Still no reply. Could I have offended her? But it is not like her—not to show the courtesy of a reply.” That was all except his “as ever, Larry.”
Betty looked out of the window over the ravine, straight at a nest which a little bird was building, and she never saw it! Her heart’s impulse was to write to Larry at once. But that would not do at all. Marcella’s letter would carry the news. She had seen some mail in Marcella’s hand. She was, doubtless, going to mail it at the general post office instead of at the nearest station. Larry would know very soon.
Then Betty did a funny thing, “silly,” she told herself. She opened her top drawer and from a box she took the little heart. On it she laid her cheek a moment, then slipped it within the scented sachet cover in which it had been accustomed to rest under her pillow. It was all right. Larry cared. He was true and good. Now she could enjoy the rest of her senior year. It would have been much more comfortable if she had not cared herself; but since she did, it was nice that Larry cared, too—some, at least.
Sedately Betty walked downstairs, but just then Doris sat down at the piano and began a gay, jazzy tune. “See if you could ‘tap’ it off to this, Betty,” cried she. “I’ve got to play for some of them tomorrow in a show we’re getting up—a sophomore jazz-fest.” And Betty’s feet celebrated her restlessness, while Dick came in—to execute a sort of clog dance, and Mr. Lee, just home, stood laughing in the doorway.
“What’s this?” he asked, “my house turned into a vaudeville stage?”
“Don’t worry, Father,” breathlessly replied Betty, stopping to throw herself into a chair. “We’ve only been working off some of our extra steam!”
Betty found it hard to study that evening, but for the next few days she threw herself into school work with great zeal. “When has Betty been so gay?” asked Mary Emma Howland.
“Spring has ‘CAME,’ Mary Emma,” declared Betty, in reply.
Next came the expected note from Larry. Betty found it waiting when she came from school and held it, almost too carelessly, with some other mail, invitations, she thought, from Janet and Sue, to their early Commencement. She visited and chatted with some friends of her sister’s, with whom she and Doris had come from high school. Then they went into the kitchen with Doris to make fudge, and Betty could slip away to her room.
It is needless to say that the mail from Buxton went unopened until she should read the message from New Haven.
“I have only just found out,” wrote Larry, “that you have not received a letter and a later note which I wrote you. I can not understand what has become of them and I am trying to find out. But I hasten to tell you, meanwhile, that I wrote, as I said I would, and I know that you must have thought me—well, I don’t know what you must have thought, if you thought of me at all!
“I have been anxiously waiting a reply from you, wondering, thinking that you were sick, or offended—about that at the last, you know. Yet I felt that you would have written me some sort of a reply, if only out of courtesy. Now Marcella writes me that you have not heard from me at all.
“I shall write in full again, but hurry this off at once. This is only to say that what I said to you at that last short moment was only too true for my peace of mind and that my missing letter went into matters between us. My Commencement comes shortly before yours, I believe, and I expect to be home to see the sweet girl graduate receive her diploma. Do I dare to hope that she will be glad to see me?”
The heart of that sweet girl graduate was thrilling over Larry’s letter then. Yes. She would be glad to see Larry, without a doubt. So he had meant it. What difference did it make about lost letters now? Yet—she would enjoy knowing just what had been in that first message.
Schoolwouldgo on, of course, no matter what interesting and important things were happening outside. Betty managed to concentrate on her lessons now. Those senior examinations! Then “at last” the expected letter came:
“Dear Valentine Lady:
“I am seeing you as you looked in the library that night. No wonder my resolution failed me. But since you are not offended, I am not sorry. Your note assuring me of that fact came promptly and relieved my very much disturbed feelings. Thank you, dear girl. So far there is no trace of the letter. Judd declares that he mailed all the letters he carried to the post that day. There is no one at your end of the route that would be interested in holding back a letter from me, I am sure. We can let it go, and since I am to see you so soon, I shall not write, or try to remember all the details I mentioned in that missive. But there were one or two important points that I think I’d better mention.
“The first is that I have been interested in you, Betty, for a long time. But after that first meeting, when I found how very, very young you were, I decided that a love affair might better be postponed, if there were any chance of one with you. I have had little of what is called college society here, for reasons that I will mention in a moment. I have been a busy fellow all through the university, with most of my recreation with the fellows, as we say.
“Of course, every time I saw you, I was tempted to begin a courtship. It was good, but harrowing last summer to be with you, and to tell the truth, it was when I got to thinking that those other youngsters whom you knew so well would perhaps carry you off after all, that is, some one of them—one in particular—well, that is what brought me flying, after my valentine. And with your looking like a young lady of the olden time, so sweet and lovely, it quite finished me.
“If the circumstances were ordinary, Betty, I would merely start in to win your love, with no explanation. But you probably do not remember stating, in some conversation with the other girls on the boat last summer, that your parents would never hear to an engagement while you were in high school and that you would have to be ‘awfully in love’ to go against anything they wanted or did not want. I could not blame them, though for a girl not yet eighteen you seem mature and able to choose whom you like. But of course I am no cool-headed parent on this question! I’m not on their side of the argument at all! But that is why I am not going to ask you for apledgewhen I come. I am going to ask you for permission to win your love if I can and to find out how your heart does stand on that important point. Then I am going to see all I can of you, unless I find that you—I am not sure, though, that I could keep away from you under any circumstances. There might be some chance that you could learn to like me enough.
“The other matter that has made me hesitate is what I will tell you more about. Please do not mention this to Marcella, but the business my father is in may go on the rocks. He has not said a word about it at home. Money is still available, you understand, and my father’s income so far is not materially lessened. So we are letting things go on as usual, with Marcella having a great time in school and entertaining as she does. I sold the small yacht we had on the excuse that it was old and a good opportunity offered, which was true. We did not get the new car that Marcella wanted. There have been big losses and a crooked executive who has been dismissed.
“On the other hand, there will be enough to liquidate and Dad and I will start something else. That is one reason why I have been working so hard and taking extra courses and so on, besides making flying trips when he wanted me. And the fact that you are so young isn’t so bad when I think that maybe you will be willing to wait for me till I get a start and am able to take care of you properly.
“So you are hereby told again, and I wish that it could be in the same way, that one Larry Waite is desperately in love and means to find out what the prospect is for him when he sees the lady of his dreams. Don’t discourage me, Betty, when you answer this, though I am not expecting that you give me an answer now. But I’ve got to live through these last weeks of school. How doesBetty Lee Waitelook on paper? I hope that you may write it so some day. I amdeeply in earnest, Betty, and though it was publicly in a spirit of fun that we exchanged hearts, mine is in your keeping. Be good to it!”
So ended Larry’s letter, and he signed himself simply “Yours.”
It was Betty Lee’s first and only love letter, and how like Larry, bless him! Betty was very sober as she read the letter through several times. Possibly she would show it to her mother, some time, but not until after Commencement. It would explain matters. Betty’s head was in a whirl. Be good to Larry’s heart? Well, rather! But Larry would be anxious to know about the receipt of this letter. She must write, and what should she say?
Betty took out her writing materials and sat at her desk thinking. A little note was best. Presently she began to write.
“Dear Larry:
“I have just received and read your letter, and I know that you will want to hear from me at once, especially since one, no, two letters have been lost. I am not really capable now of replying to such a beautiful letter as it should be answered, and I’m just a little dazed over it, I suppose. I did not really know that you have been thinking of me in that way for so long. But I do not evenwantto say anything to ‘discourage’ you for these last weeks, and I will be good to the ‘heart.’
“As ever,“Betty.”
“As ever,“Betty.”
The answer to this was a telegram and a box of flowers, all of which was quite thrilling to Betty Lee. Her mother looked surprised and asked why Larry Waite should send Betty flowers “now.”
“Oh, because the spring flowers are so pretty, I suppose,” said Betty, burying her nose in them. “I had a letter, too.”
“You must have made a hit with Larry at the Valentine party,” said Doris, crossing the room to see the blossoms whose fragrance had reached her.
“It is awfully nice of him, anyway,” said Betty, turning away to look for vases. “I’ll put a bunch of these on my desk,” she said, “and the rest we’ll all enjoy downstairs.” But while Betty did not permit her family to discover all that these flowers meant to her, a few were later pressed and found their way into the repository of treasures.
CHAPTER XIXOF A NUMBER OF THINGS
While other things were uppermost in Betty Lee’s mind just now, the committee on Honor Girl were considering her as well as half a dozen or more of the fine girls that were G. A. A. candidates, made so by the “petitions” of their friends. No girl goes through a high school course without being pretty well estimated, in one way or another, by her friends, but this was a little more definite. The school paper, indeed, published the main requirements which the choice of Honor Girl, or points upon which the choice rested: character, appearance, leadership, school spirit and scholarship of not less than eighty per cent for the four years of high school work.
Betty’s grades were good, for not once had she fallen below the honor list, thanks to pride and the stimulus of pleasing her parents. Her leadership was not to be doubted, for more than one team had she led to victory, though she had not taken part in as many competitive games as some of the other girls. And was she not the president of the G. A. A.? “Betty Lee is efficient,” said one of the teachers on the committee. “Yes, and she is to be relied on absolutely,” replied another.
Appearance, did not mean beauty, it was to be supposed, but it did include neat and suitable dressing, and presumably a certain poise of manner, not impossible to be attained by the young. “Betty Lee’s experience at the head of some of these organizations has given her that modest but rather confident manner in the class room, I suppose,” said one.
“No,” said Miss Heath, “she has always had that. She has been in my classes from the first. She gets that at home I think. They are all rather self-contained, good control and all that. I’ve been entertained there. I’m glad I’m not on your committee, ladies. There’s Carolyn Gwynne. She is one of the most charming girls I know, quite as generous as Betty and as friendly, with all the school spirit any one could desire. If you chose her, you would have a fine honor girl, one that represents the best Lyon High has. Yet Betty has a few more gifts and has made a better president of G. A. A. than Carolyn would have made. She is just as bright as Carolyn, though her grades are not quite as high. How she has kept up to the mark with all your athletic performances, I don’t see.”
Miss Heath had been called into one of the class rooms where members of the committee were discussing the choice, and this was her laughing thrust at two of the athletic directors. “Oh, yes, one more thing in favor of my favorite,” added Miss Heath. “Betty has cool judgment. She thinks things out, which is more than you can say for all of our youngsters. That is one of the best points in leadership. Betty expresses herself well, too, in class.”
“How about pep and enthusiasm?” queried one lady.
“I presume all of these girls would make one hundred per cent on that, wouldn’t they? Witness this morning’s assembly?”
The choice was not an easy one, but it was made, to be kept a secret until the G. A. A. banquet when the honors were to be given.
Meanwhile last senior hikes and picnics took their place in history, during the lovely days of April, May and early June. Color Day, a girls’ affair, marked by class stunts and contests, was a jolly occasion. Betty’s only honor was winning the basketball throw and that was an accident, she claimed. But she had helped get up the senior stunt, which won the prize, filling the senior girls with delight. “Betty, you made a grand class manager,” declared Mathilde, amazing Betty, who did not suppose that Mathilde thought she could do anything right. But Betty had never retaliated nor seemed to notice Mathilde’s little slights, except to avoid contact more or less. “That’s nice of you to say, Mathilde,” responded Betty with a bright smile. “I’m going to miss all the times we girls have had,” she added, “and these field days have been such fun. I’ll miss all of it.”
“So shall I,” said Mathilde, thoughtfully. “I’m going to be married, Betty. Tell you some more some time.”
A successful and almost too well attended concert of glee clubs and orchestra finished Betty’s “fiddling” for the year, she said, though she still attended practices. She was happy over having the largest “score” and thus winning that past swimming meet. Swimming and music ought to go together, she told her father. He agreed and reminded her how fishermen were lured to their doom by the Lorelei and other sirens.
“Oh—you’re a great daddy!” Betty told him, “but you’ll be proud of your little goldfish yet!”
“I am now, Betty. There isn’t a girl as fine as mine over there!”
“Why, Father! That’s better than the diploma! I know you’re prejudiced, but it’s very pleasant!”
Then came a day when Ramon Sevilla came “home.” Tall, big, strong, confident, he had gotten past fear, established in his own country, with backing now in America as well. But plans changed. Mrs. Sevilla was not quite strong enough yet to be taken across the Atlantic. The school paper, known as theRoar, came out with a little account which gave a summary of Ramon’s experiences:
A Former Football Hero Returns.
A Former Football Hero Returns.
Who does not remember the Don, otherwise known as Ramon Balinsky? He is the man who came to fame after Freddy Fisher and in turn was followed by “Kentucky,” our synonym for victory.
The Don was the man of mystery. We always knew that he had some romantic history and it turns out that he was the victim of a frame-up in his native land. Separated from his relatives, who feared that he was dead, not knowing what had become of them, he drifted here, always followed by the villains of the piece.
Last summer he was kidnapped and almost killed, though rescued by friends that included some of our most prominent seniors. It made a romantic tale of the Maine coast, stolen jewels and smuggled liquor. The Don has been to Spain and it is whispered that he has even talked to the king. He has regained his stolen property and while he goes now by the name of Sevilla, no one knows just what his rank may or may not be.
However, the Don makes a fine American and until he thinks best to return to his native land, he has established a home for his mother and sister and is going to work for the Murchison Company. TheRoarcongratulates him and says, “Long live the Don!” Good work, Ramon. The cheer squad will now lead in Lyon High yells for the Don, and the band will strike up “El Capitan!”
It was true that a quiet little place had been chosen by Ramon for his mother and sister, who could now rest from most of her labors and all of her anxieties. For the present Ramon was to be found suitable work, in one of the Murchison interests, which would take care of them all and begin to settle the loan which he had accepted in Spain.
One curious feature about Betty’s new relation with Larry Waite was that her family knew practically nothing about it. She had no desire to keep anything from her mother, in one respect, but she had really seen so little of Larry, and under such circumstances when she did that it was not natural to speak of it. Mrs. Lee had noted Betty’s depression and a little change of manner, and while attributing it chiefly to her being tired with all the various enterprises, she wondered if seeing so much less of Chet was worrying her at all. “After Commencement,” Betty thought, “they’ll see.”
Chet, on the other hand was not worrying Betty in the least. He had seemed not to like it particularly that Betty was Larry’s partner at supper on that eventful evening, but Chet was not much older than Betty and like her had had no real experience with a deep attachment. Just now he was absorbed in his work and a university fraternity. He and Ted with a few others came around in a car one afternoon to carry Betty off to a picnic party on the Dorrance grounds, but aside from that there were no “dates.” It was a natural dropping of rather too constant attention and Betty was glad to think that her budding romance would not bring any particular pain to Chet.
Mathilde, whose chief interest was in those lines and whose town acquaintance was wide, took some little pleasure, Betty thought, in repeating something that Jack had told her. “I hear that you are being cut out, Betty, with Chet,” said she.
“How is that?” asked Betty, knowing that Mathilde wanted to have her ask that very thing.
“Jack says that Chet has a new girl—I forget her name, a new member of Chet’s class. Chet’s taking her around quite a little. I hope you don’t mind.” Mathilde looked at Betty curiously. Perhaps that was what was the matter with Mathilde, curiosity.
“How interesting,” murmured Betty, annoyed, to be sure, but a little amused, too. “No—Chet and I will always be the best of friends, I think, but it’s only natural that we should not be together so much now. I think I know the girl you mean. There were a lot of us on a picnic together the other day.” Blessings on that recent picnic, Betty thought. She really did not enjoy having Mathilde “crow over her,” and she knew that before the conversation ended, Mathilde would try to worm the last detail of that picnic and who were there out of her. As if uninterested in telling any more, she pleasantly answered the rest of the questions, for with some people, Betty could be “diplomatic,” too.
In the comforting assurance that everything would be “all right” when Larry came, Betty laid aside her happy dreams of the future to work hard just before the “senior exams.” One scholarship prize she would win, if possible, and she was not going to have it said that a girl prominent in athletics could not get her lessons. As a senior, she could not play with the orchestra at Commencement. Freedom from practice there was one gain, though arrangements for the G. A. A. banquet lay partly on the shoulders of the president.
At last the examinations were over. Class day was ushered in with sunshine and entire relief from lessons. Betty was not even in the pretty Maypole dance or any of the stunts, but with some regrets she formed a part of the senior parade and carried her part of the long, long rope of living green and twining flowers that marked the senior class. As she followed the rest along the track of the athletic field before the big stadium she tried not to let herself think that “all these good times” were over, but she winked more than once, to keep a tear from forming. One big chapter in her life was closing, and Betty vaguely realized it.
But her mother was in the stadium to hear the brief program and to see Betty come forward not only for her Latin prize from Miss Heath, but for another, given to each of the three best Latin students in the entire senior class.
And afterwards, when the class had its own private meeting there was nothing but fun for Betty. The class prophet foretold a wonderful athletic future for Betty as the world’s champion swimmer. “As Lindy was the first to fly alone, so Betty Lee is to be the first swimmer to cross the Atlantic!”
“How about the sharks?” someone asked, but was frowned upon by the speaker of the day.
CHAPTER XXTROPHIES
Was it herself? So thought Betty once during the G. A. A. banquet which was such an important occasion to its president.
There was the buzz of conversation, the tinkle of some bit of silver, the subdued laughter of some prettily dressed girl, or other natural accompaniment of a meal. Students, guests and teachers sat about the long, flower-decked tables in the familiar lunch room, arranged for the occasion, and were engaged in the pleasant pastime of disposing of an excellent banquet menu’s offerings.
But Betty’s chief thoughts were upon her little speech of welcome, with which the program was to be opened. She sat at the speakers’ table, in the line of those who were to give toasts or present awards. Rather overcome at first by being next to the principal himself, Betty faced her G. A. A. world and glanced from time to time at her notes, concealed from view in her program. She had attended more than one G. A. A. banquet, but it was the first time that she had borne any responsibility.
Tonight she was in front of everybody, for the speakers’ table ran across the end of the room and was seated upon the one side only, which thus faced the ends of the other tables. Betty would not be particularly embarrassed in receiving before every one her coveted pin for riding, chevrons, or other marks of honors won. But that speech! Well, if she forgot what she intended to say, she could make up something cordial and courteous. She had had experience with the Girl Reserves and often had to say something that she had not expected to. But she had to manage the program, too, and she did hope that she wouldn’t make any mistakes or let down into what her father called the school vernacular.
Rather keyed up, Betty rose with senior dignity at the proper time and made her little speech of welcome and introduction to the purpose and points of the banquet. She introduced the principal as the first upon the program and sat down during the applause which both approved of her speech and recognized the principal. Relieved that there was a favorable start, Betty had a chance to think of what she was to say next, while the principal spoke briefly. Two others made short toasts, Carolyn Gwynne, then one of the girls who lauded the opportunities of the school for healthful activities. Then, since so many awards were to be made, the business of presentations began.
Betty had only to call on each teacher who made the presentations, but she kept her mind strictly on the order of the program, though interrupted by receiving and acknowledging with smiles her own awards. Hockey, riding, swimming, basketball, numeral and letters made trophies for Betty, who disposed them near her as best she could.
The new officers for the next year were installed, another thing to have done properly. But it was all going off promptly with no dragging, no time wasted. What else should they learn in this big school except to have everything go promptly, according to schedule? Lucia, happy with both her father and her mother beside her, her guests at the banquet, gave Betty a smiling look once in awhile. Count and Countess Coletti were evidently very much interested in the whole affair, and the dark-eyed, distinguished looking count took from Lucia the pin which was the award of the riding club, to examine it smilingly and pass it on to Mr. and Mrs. Lee, who sat near. The Murchisons, though urged to come by Lucia, had another important engagement. The count and countess had arrived from their travels just in time to attend.
Gwen’s father and mother were there, too, for was not Gwen receiving recognition for her one year of excellent efforts? Carolyn, sweet old Carolyn, had made the best speech of all, Betty thought. From certain indications, Betty thought that it was most likely that Carolyn would be named the honor girl. Yet not a word had any member of the committee said to betray their secret, so far as Betty knew.
And tired, though relieved, when Betty called upon the chief athletic director to make the announcement of the Lyon High Honor Girl, she was almost past thinking at all. All that she had to do now was to announce the speaker, who would offer the toast to that honor girl. Thank fortune, it had all gone off without a hitch! Betty leaned back in her chair and pinned below her flowers on her gay chiffon frock, new for the occasion, the silver pin with its outlined horse jumping over a low gate.
She saw Amy Lou smiling at her from beside her mother, and back among a sophomore group was Doris. But she was all attention as the experienced and charming director began to speak, saying what Betty knew to be true that her class had offered an unusual number of girls prominent in athletic events.
“It is too bad that there can be only one Honor Girl. However, I know that you will all agree in regard to the qualifications of the one whom we have selected. Fair and considerate, loyal to the school, striving for excellence rather than to win over another, friendly, efficient, dependable, always working toward high ideals, with an excellent record in scholarship and athletics, with gifts in influence and leadership, our young president, Betty Lee, is the one whom we name as Lyon High Honor Girl!”
Betty had clasped her hands tightly together when the director had said “our young president.” Now, prettily gowned, smiling assurance to Betty, she was bending to her and giving her a hand to present her as Betty rose, scarcely believing her eyes and ears.
Trying to collect herself, Betty listened while the director placed the beautiful ring on Betty’s finger with a few more well-chosen and almost affectionate words. And Betty must make some response—a speech that she had not made up beforehand!
Betty’s voice trembled a little, as in a few words, which she could never remember, she thanked the director and the society and sank into her chair, apparently in command of herself, but really very much shaken. She would not have believed that she could feel it so!
Fortunately, the director announced at once the name of the teacher who was to give the toast to the Honor Girl, saving Betty the embarrassment and “making it snappy,” as Doris said afterwards. This closed the program and Carolyn, sitting so near Betty, was the first one to reach her and hug her in congratulation.
“Oh, Carolyn, I was almost sure it would be you! You are ten times more worthy of wearing this ring than I am!”
“No, Betty, and I’m honestly glad you have it.”
“It is just like you, Carolyn, and I’ll never be able to equal your generous spirit in a thousand years!”
But others, teachers and pupils, were surrounding Betty now. Her parents were also receiving congratulations and did not try to reach Betty for some time. Countess Coletti, presently, was turning up Betty’s chin with a light touch of her jeweled hand, to kiss her and threaten to carry her off with Lucia to Switzerland for the summer. The count offered his congratulations with dignity and stopped to talk with the principal on American public schools.
It was late before the combined Lee family felt sleepy. Mrs. Lee came into Betty’s room to say goodnight again to her honor girl, and found Betty, half undressed but sitting on her bed “just thinking.”
They talked for a few moments, then Betty sprang up suddenly. “Mother, this would be a good time to show you something. I have never said much to you about Larry Waite, Marcella’s brother, and you have scarcely seen him. Well, you did hear all about last summer, of course, and how nice he was. But there is something special, Mother, and a letter that he wrote me will explain it to you better than I can. You can understand, can’t you, why I haven’t told you anything before? It was only the time of Marcella’s party that I knew he cared.”
Startled, Mrs. Lee looked inquiringly at Betty; but the motherly smile was ready for her “little girl.” “And are you—interested in him, Betty?” she asked.
“No girl could help being interested, Mother. I’m—afraid I care a good deal already. Here is the main letter, and that is a note written before. He wrote me a letter and a note that never reached me.”
“Do you care if I take these to my room, Betty?”
“I’d much rather, Mother—but don’t let anything happen to them!” Betty was smiling a little now. The moment had been a little awkward.
“I understand. And may I speak of it to Father? He’ll probably not want to read the letters.”
“Say anything you want to Father, if he will keep it to himself, you know. You see it is really not all fixed up.”
“Depend on me to manage it,” said Mrs. Lee, taking her daughter in her arms for an especial good night, yet leaving the room with a frown of anxiety. Betty was too young. But she turned to say, “Betty, I shall make it a point to become acquainted with this young man. We shall invite him around.” And Betty, selecting her “nightie” from a hook in her closet, looked around the open closet door to say, “All right, Mamma. Goodnight.”
The situation did not seem so distressing, however, after the letters were read. There would be nothing immediate. Mrs. Lee smiled at more than one point, but Betty could safely trust her letters to her mother. She was not one to take humorously or lightly what was earnest in young love. This seemed to be a sensible young man, carrying more responsibility than most at his age, and sufficiently older than Betty. She decided to tell Mr. Lee at some later date, when he was not so tired. The lad was coming home, they would soon have an opportunity to judge for themselves.
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Commencement was held in the school auditorium, though so many were the demands for tickets that it had been considered taking the seniors to one of the city’s larger platforms. That Betty was excited with all the accompanying glories, is scarcely necessary to mention. Presents from dear friends, little gifts exchanged with the girls, the new white frock, flowers from “The Dorrances,” flowers also from “Arthur and Archie,” the Penrose boys, gave Betty little ecstasies at different times, when they arrived or were presented.
Larry Waite had written that he would be there. Betty saw to it that there should be a ticket for him, and that she gave to Marcella, with earnest adjurations that it should not be lost.
“Don’t worry, Betty,” said Marcella. “I’ll see that he gets it. It will not go with the letter where the lost pins go!”
Marcella herself would be elsewhere. University affairs were more “intriguing,” though she gave Betty a pretty remembrance and made the remark that Betty was “already like a sister—sorority sister, of course,” she explained with a merry look.
On what Mr. Lee called the fatal day, a great box of crimson roses was delivered at the house. They were accompanied by Larry’s card, and his roses should be the ones Betty carried, to be sure. Singing with the rest of her class was the only duty left to be performed. The speaker, the orchestra and organ, and the principal would do the rest. She could carry all the roses she could hold and still receive her diploma, made out to Elizabeth Virginia Lee, whose high school days would then be over.
Music, roses, prettily dressed senior girls, dignified senior boys in their best attire, a whole platform crowded with them—such was the familiar scene in the school auditorium that happy night. It was the formal, impressive exercise known as Commencement; and when it was over Betty Lee carried a diploma, earned by many a sacrifice of ease, to testify now to her hours of study and effort.
That and her roses, except a few that she wore, she put into the parental hands, used to relieving their children of their burdens. And Larry came around at once to claim her and to greet Betty’s parents, with whom she waited for him. Betty was proud of his appearance and manner, but that temporary satisfaction was swallowed up by the excitement of her first real conversation with Larry, which impended.
Then and in the next few days there was plenty of opportunity to explain everything. Even the lost letter had been found, sopping wet in the pocket of Judd’s sweater, which had been thrown into a little launch that the boys sometimes used in the harbor and rained upon. “I will mail my own important letters after this,” said he. But he had dried the letter and brought it to read with Betty such parts as were decipherable.
Betty, whose talk with her mother had taken place soon after Mr. Lee had read the letter from Larry, explained that her father and mother were friendly but hoped that the “arrangement” would be an “understanding” rather than an open engagement. “They think that we don’t know each other well enough yet, Larry, and that I am too young, as you said. But one thing I must say to you and that is that your troubles with the business are not important to me, only as they make it hard for you. Why, I can cook and keep house pretty well, and it would be much more fun to live in just a little place with you—if we ever should be married.”
This, to be sure, was after Larry had again gone over the points of his letter. His repeated assurances of what he had told Betty in the Waite library had been given at once on Betty’s graduation night, and Betty had been asked for her confession, as well. They were both happy and expectant.
They were sitting, during this conversation, on a hill overlooking one of the most beautiful views in the city. Marcella and some of her friends were having a picnic in the wooded park. Larry took Betty’s hand and looked at the honor ring that she wore. “I suppose that it must be just an understanding now,” said he. “But perhaps by your birthday they may let you wear a ring for me. Not for nothing did I look over your shoulder into that Hallowe’en mirror, Betty—you—sweetheart!”
Meanwhile, Mrs. Lee, gathering up various articles at home, was carrying Betty’s diploma into her room. There, on Betty’s table, cleared for the purpose, were her trophies. The year book, which Betty had helped compile, adorned one corner. It contained, with much else, serious and otherwise, the pictures of the faculty, of Betty’s school-mates and of Betty herself, with the list of her clubs and activities during the four years. On this were a few copies of theRoar, for Betty, too, had been written up among the prominent seniors.
Here were Betty’s gifts, her chevrons, a medal, the little gold pin from Miss Heath, with its Latin motto, “Ad Astra,” the Girl Reserve ring, the long-worn senior pin, more prizes, all Betty’s cherished senior trophies. For a moment Mrs. Lee stood looking at them. Then, smiling, on top of the array, she laid Betty’s diploma.