“Sweet and pretty and dear and fine,She’s a peach of a girl—Miss Valentine!Let Eros whisper, as flies his dart,‘Your lover is waiting and waits your heart.’”
“Sweet and pretty and dear and fine,She’s a peach of a girl—Miss Valentine!Let Eros whisper, as flies his dart,‘Your lover is waiting and waits your heart.’”
Betty dimpled as she read, “I wonder if Marcella copied that or made it up. It doesn’t sound like her.”
“It wouldn’t,” said Larry, who had been reading his own lines. “She didn’t write them; but she did pretty well with mine in the hurry she was tonight. See? It’s a prophecy, I hope. I’m not sure that Marcella knows that Eros is the same as Cupid.”
“Larry Waite! Of course she does. But you haven’treadmine yet, how do you——”
Betty stopped, for Larry turned a mischievous look upon her, then sobered. “I wasn’t in fun when I scribbled those lines, Betty,” said he. But it was no place in which to embarrass Betty and he quickly placed his own card before her. “Read what Marcella tells me,” and Betty read:
“If Cupid only has success,You’re on your way to happiness.”
“If Cupid only has success,You’re on your way to happiness.”
“Now I hope that is so,” said Larry lightly. “I’m quite content right now.”
Others were doing the same thing, exchanging cards and reading funny or clever or sugary verses, collected or composed by Marcella and her good friends. Larry had insisted that Betty’s card match his own and in the short time he gave to Marcella’s change of arrangements he had written the verses.
Betty was past being surprised now and had entered into an exhilarated stage of feeling in which the fun, the light and inconsequential conversation, the lights, the decorations, the costumes, masks and general gayety all played a part. And now, from the middle of the long part of the table and almost opposite Betty, Marcella rose to announce that they would unmask before the serving began.
Then came hilarity indeed, though properly restrained, for this was no school picnic in the woods! Surprises and congratulations were the order of the moment. The gypsy, with a clown in Lyon High colors, sat just beyond Betty. “Why, Kathryn, I couldn’t tell you at all!” she exclaimed. “Chet thought it was you, but I had my doubts.”
The clown with Kathryn was Brad Warren. Chet Dorrance, Betty saw, was farther down on the opposite side of the table and she sighed with relief, for Betty never wanted Chet’s feelings hurt. Marcella had placed him with a senior at the university, one of her sorority sisters, and Chet was evidently much interested and pleased. It was rather nattering to be selected for a senior, and indeed, Marcella had known that Chet Dorrance must not be placed with some one whom he would not like, no matter what Larry wanted to do.
Mathilde’s diamond flashed directly opposite and with Jack Huxley in gala mood, she, too, was happy and beamed on Betty with all the rest. Mathilde was bright and entertaining, too, when she was out with her friends. And Jack—well, he would be served with nothing here that would make him unfit to see any one safely home. The ring seemed more appropriate here than at school.
It was a great surprise to most that Larry Waite was there. He was greeted with enthusiasm and played his part of host with cordiality, the life of the party, Betty thought. More “grown-up” than so many, his fun had some point to it, she thought, and Larry would have felt glad to know her flattering opinion, which she was not to have much opportunity to tell him, even supposing that she wanted to do so.
The idea of the day was carried out in the supper. Larry said that he “didn’t know but it was cannibalistic” to eat so many hearts. Heart-shaped sandwiches, salad in hearts—it was amazing how much in that line could be done. The ice-cream servings, in fanciful molds, each looked like a vari-colored and heart-shaped valentine, and little cakes, in hearts, with “heavenly” frosting, were toothsome indeed.
Larry seemed to have an idea just as the ice-cream was arriving and said something across the table to Marcella, who hopped up at once and lightly clapped her hands together for attention.
“Larry says that the celebration will not be complete unless we exchange hearts. So that is the next thing on the program. Who wants my heart?”
There was laughter and quick compliance. But Larry was already detaching a heart from the little array which Betty wore and whispered, “That was by way of an excuse to get one of these, Betty. Do you mind?”
“You may have them all, Larry,” laughed Betty, stirred, nevertheless. Oh, this couldn’t be just his “line,” as she had once thought! Helikedher. She knew he did.
“And where is the one I am supposed to have?” she asked, as Larry tucked the little pink heart in his inner pocket.
“It’s beating not far away,” said Larry in her ear. But he detached a small heart that had dangled from his lapel all evening and handed it to her.
“No,” said she, “badge me with it.”
It all had to be with the air of badinage and fun, in the presence of so many, but Larry, under cover of fastening his heart in the place of the one he had detached, and under the louder buzz of conversation and the laughter, spoke once more into her ear.
“You darling! I hope this means half as much to you as it does to me!” A hand crept over hers in her lap and held it tightly for a long moment, while Betty returned a slight pressure.
Then things were as they were before. Larry gave some attention, as he had done before, to the university girl who sat on his other side. Betty talked to Kathryn and Bradford, but she “felt like somebody else,” as she confided to her diary the next day. An entirely new probability was hers, and a new faith in Larry Waite.
But Larry did not take her home. After the supper he told her that as soon as “they” began to go, he would be waiting for her and would take her home in “the roadster.” But he had scarcely finished telling her when Marcella came up and soberly said that a telegram had come for their father and that he wanted to see Larry right away. With a brief “Excuse me,” Larry hurried off, while Betty wondered why anybody would send a telegram so late, unless it was a case of life or death! The older Waites had disappeared not long after the guests had all been received. Could they still be up?
The girls began to go up for their wraps and Betty went with them, coming down to wait in the library, as he had told her. No one was there, but she had only a few minutes to wait till he came in and closed the door. “Betty! My plans to see you are all upset. Father has had a business telegram, delayed, by good luck for me, and something has come up which must be attended to. He can not go and I shall have to go for him. A train leaves in half an hour. Marcella will arrange for your getting home with the rest.
“I—I had something to tell you, Betty. You can guess what it is, of course, though I was not going to ask you for a pledge so soon. But I only wanted to make sure that no one else would—have your pledge, before we had a chance to—become better acquainted.”
That was rather a lame close. Larry was trying not to say too much either for his own sake or Betty’s, and Betty looked up archly at this and smiled. “Yes,” said she, gravely, “and let us hope that our friendship will improve on acquaintance.”
“Don’t tease me, please, Betty,” said Larry, but he relaxed into a smile, too. “I’ll write you as soon as I can. Remember that you are my valentine, Betty—and now I think you’ll let me say goodbye as I want to!”
Before Betty knew it, she was caught in the embrace of a big soft overcoat, hugged and kissed all in a moment, held a second while Larry whispered a soft statement in her ear again; and then he turned and rapidly left the room as he heard Marcella call “Larry” from without.
Oh, what a wonderful Valentine’s Day! Larrylovedher. Hesaidso.Larry!
CHAPTER XVONCE MORE BASKETBALL
“Father, do you care if I’m on the squad, you know, in basketball?” asked Betty at breakfast one morning shortly after the Valentine party. She had not heard from Larry and was beginning to think it all a dream. It hadn’t happened!
“I’ll not be on the regular team, you understand, and I’m not likely to be called into the games at all, but the inter-class games are on now and the sophomores aretoogood, and, bless you, the little freshmen are amounting to a real menace!”
“Amenace! That will never do,” said Mr. Lee.
“Hurray for the sophomores,” said Dick.
“I hope we beat you,” laughed Doris, “though it will be a sort of disgrace if this senior class doesn’t win. It’s always been good in athletics.”
“I am glad to see that you can look on both sides, Doris,” said Mrs. Lee.
“Oh, don’t give me credit for wanting Betty’s class to beat, Mother. I’dloveto see the sophomores win!”
“It is a good thing Betty is going to the university next year,” laughed Mr. Lee.
“Oh—am I? I’m glad to hear it’s decided, Father,” spoke Betty. “I did want to go away, but I don’t now.”
“What has changed you?” quickly asked Doris. “Is it Ted’s or Chet’s being there?”
“Doris,” rebuked Mrs. Lee, who thought her daughter too pert in manner and her question too personal.
But Betty replied to her sister, “So far as I know, either may be going away. I understand that both of them expected to sample some other school, for the experience. But when they once start in here they get to liking it and make their friends and all. I think talking to Marcella Waite and her friends influenced me.”
Betty knew that Doris would not think of Larry in this connection.
Returning to the discussion on basketball, Betty told her father that one of the girls on the team was just down with mumps and another had a bad ankle. Her father asked her if she wanted to risk getting one, too, but Betty said that her playing was not likely and anyway no worse than the practice games that she was doing now alittle.
“I was throwing the ball into baskets in the gym yesterday, Father, and they just begged me to help out, or be where I could legitimately be called on. Carolyn and Kathryn were both after me. And, Father, I’m not going to do a thing in the university but get my lessons, take music and swim!”
“Very well, then. I suppose you must. Vale.Cura ut valeas.”
This was her father’s frequent way of telling them, in the language of Cicero’s Letters, to take care of themselves. He excused himself and left the table, the sound of the car being taken from the garage reaching those left at table as soon as it was possible for Mr. Lee to get there. He was leaving early and the children could get to school by street car.
So it came about that Betty “sat on the side lines” during the last competitive games, when everybody was highly keyed. The seniors, in spite of losses, for another girl came down with mumps in the midst of events, were still eligible to win the contest when their last game was called. It reminded Betty of that other contest, when Mathilde almost succeeded in giving the game to Marcella’s team against whom they were playing. Mathilde was such a cheat. Whenever Betty was inclined to feel sorry for her marrying a boy with a taste for liquor so pronounced, she thought that Jack was not doing so much better. And Mathilde, though not on the team, was not far from Betty today in the familiar old “gym” where quite a crowd had gathered to see the last game that the seniors would play against any of the others. And it was the sophomores again, the class team that had done so well. There sat Doris, rooting for the sophomores, but waving her hand once in friendly fashion at her sister. But it was hard to keep to good sportsmanship. Besides, Betty had had enough successes!
The game was an eager one, tense. The seniors had the advantage of superior public poise, perhaps, and longer experience. The sophomores, however, were out to win. One senior girl finally, to Betty’s dismay, began to blunder and play badly, giving a big advantage to the sophomores, who needed no prompting in regard to taking it. Then the girl was taken out of the game and there was a consultation. Mathilde moved over to Betty’s side, where they were watching the game, and hoped that she would be called to take her place. “I just wanted to jump right up and take that ball!” cried Mathilde. “What made her so stupid?”
“I think she must be sick, Mathilde. Carolyn had her arm around her.” But Betty had felt the same way. Could they win now? They must! Then the championship game would be the last.
But the director was coming in their direction. Mathilde hopped up hopefully, but again was disappointed in having Betty chosen before her. Betty felt almost sorry, though she was in the mood to do anything—all to save the game. Ah, Betty could make baskets, and with Carolyn and Kathryn there!
Fast and furious went the last part of the game. Rooters called and gave the Lyon High cheers to encourage the players. The sophomore rooters grew quiet as the score began to pile up for the seniors. “Well, it begins to look as if we’d have to wait till next year to smite ’em in class contests,” sighed Doris to her chum.
“Never mind, if they do beat us this time, we’ll be the ones to play against them in the championship games unless we lose our next game with the freshies.”
Breathless and delighted with victory, Betty after distinguishing herself in brave help and rescue at an important juncture, talked it all over with Carolyn and Kathryn. “Oh, you girls are simply marvelous, the way you pass to each other!”
“Yes, and the way you got on to everything just as if you had been playing with, us all along!”
“I have, in spirit,” laughed Betty. “I’ve seen every game and noted every thing you did.”
Carolyn and Kathryn were forwards and had, indeed worked up a “system” as they declared to Betty, but that amounted only to an almost instinctive knowledge of each other’s probable action under the rules and suggestions of their coach. “Now if we just had you for captain,” laughed Carolyn, “we could play the whole game without anybody else! Don’t tell Gwen I said that, though. She’s great.”
“Wouldn’t that make an interesting game,” said Betty, “three on the floor!”
But Carolyn said that she was a true prophet when Gwen Penrose, senior captain, before the championship game came down with the prevalent and disgustingly childish disease. The ranks were decimated indeed and the other class was rejoicing. The other girls on the senior team were worried. They were all needed in their own particular duties. No one wanted to take the responsibility of being captain. Then with one accord, coach and girls decided that Betty could do it, and Betty, hesitatingly, said that she would try.
“You led a team to victory once, Betty—just do it again,” urged Kathryn.
“It’s a risk, girls, but then, somebody’s got to do it—only it should be one of the original second team.”
“The best ones are down with mumps, too, Betty, and it looks as if the fates have elected you to do the job.”
“Well,” Mickey Carlin told a sophomore boy, “if Betty Lee is captain of the senior team, it’s goodnight for your girls. She’s president of the G. A. A. anyhow, and seems to have agiftfor leadership and any sort of athletics. But the mumps seems to be the seniors’ Waterloo. If Betty gets it, you may have hope.”
“She’s had ’em. Dick Lee said so,” replied the sophomore boy, grinning. “But I’ll not mention it to the girls.”
“You forget about Doris,” suggested Mickey. “I don’t want to mention anything else discouraging, but it isn’t impossible for the sophomores to get the mumps playing this way with the seniors, you know.”
“Forget it! Mumps, indeed!” But the next day he did not come to school. Mumps had struck even a sophomore.
Fortunately the little epidemic spread no farther, once recognized. Betty, neglecting other things temporarily, practiced basketball till the championship game, the center of so much interest, was on. Cool outwardly, but tense within and alert to every play, Betty as captain almost prayed for success. This year was her farewell to competitive athletics. Her mother, saying that she could not stand the excitement and hoped that Betty would not get hurt, refused to attend the game. Betty did not know whether she spoke in earnest or was joking; but the ticket she had for her mother she gave to Amy Lou, who had begged to go and was now in a state of high delight, saying that one of her school chums had a cousin on the squad and that she was to be taken over from school in an automobile, if she could only have an excuse to get out early.
That matter was attended to and Doris shook her finger at Amy Lou with a comical expression, asking her which team she “would root for.” “Will it be Betty’s class or mine?” she cried, shaking, her head to suggest dire consequences if Amy Lou chose Betty’s.
“Well, butBettyisplaying,” decided Amy Lou on the spot.
The hour arrived and a game fast and furious was on, closely watched, well played by both sides. Never before had it seemed so difficult for any senior on the team to make a basket. The sophomores were “set against it,” said Doris Lee to Amy Lou and her friend, both of whom would ask questions at the most exciting moment!
Again swift passing and long shots were employed by the seniors. There was little scoring on either side till almost the last of the game. And then it was Betty, who at the last minute made another basket and gave the seniors what was necessary to win over the sophomores byone point!
Both teams were due for congratulations. “Now that was what we call a good game,” said Doris decidedly to Amy Lou. “Of course, whoever wins would like to win with a higher score, but it makes more excitement this way.”
“My oldest sister,” explained Amy Lou to her schoolmate, “is president of the G. A. A. and the best swimmer in school, that is, of the girls. That was her, captain of the senior team. She gets prizes and things, too.”
“I know all those girls on the team,” airily replied Amy Lou’s friend. “My cousin tells me about them. But I guess your sister is real good. I saw her make that basket at the end.”
“Betty can do anything she tries to do,” said loyal Amy Lou, more loyal than wise on some occasions. “She is going to see if I can’t come to the game the faculty has with the regular team. It’s terribly funny, always, and they have all sorts of stunts. The worst is getting Mother to let me get excused from school early.”
“Oh, that is never any trouble for me,” said the other child. “Sometimes they come for me and just take me to a movie.”
Amy Lou was rather envious at that statement and wondered what her parents would say if she repeated it at home.
“I’ll take you some time,” offered the child.
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t be allowed,” said Amy Lou. She had already expressed her thanks for the kindness of this trip.
Meantime a tired and excited Betty was receiving congratulations for the team and for herself. While Amy Lou went home with Doris, Betty took a plunge and shower and was carried off to Carolyn’s, for the Gwynne car was to call for Carolyn. They scarcely talked on the way and the only bit of energy shown by Carolyn that evening was when she called up to see if Betty could stay all night. It was one of those quiet, restful visits that Betty could have with Carolyn and that Carolyn enjoyed with her. She almost told Carolyn about Larry’s arranging with Marcella to be with her at supper that night of the party. But it might lead to other things and the only thing that Carolyn said about it was to comment on how nice it was of Marcella to put Betty with Larry.
“I always did think that Larry Waite was interested in you, Betty. ‘Always’ means last summer, of course. He must be four or five years older than you are. I imagine he must have asked Marcella to place him with you. She was telling me how his father depends on him. It seems the older brother went into the navy and is somewhere way off, in the Philippines, I imagine.”
Betty looked interested, responding by smiles and attention. “I never heard Marcella say,” she answered, “and Larry never spoke of it that I can remember.”
Betty’s memories of Larry were still too precious to be talked about, even with Carolyn. Perhaps she would have the promised letter soon. But if he made this trip for his father and had lessons to make up, he might not have time. That he would not forget, she was sure. It was different now.
CHAPTER XVIA PAUSE IN ROMANCE
A healthy body and plenty of wholesome activities, with books and sane thinking at home, kept Betty Lee from any morbid ideas or tendencies in regard to early love affairs. She was romantic, to be sure, having had Larry in mind as her Prince Charming for some time. But with the pushing lessons and performances of her senior year there was not much time for dwelling upon “Love and Larry,” an expression of her own and held in her young heart in connection with that evening of Valentine’s day. It was “Eros, god of Love,” that she remembered, not St. Valentine. Now that she had a room of her own, she could sleep every night with Larry’s little valentine heart under her pillow, and his writing on the place card with its astonishingly revealing verses was equally cherished. Not every girl had a lover who was a poet.
And Larry had said that he loved her! She always came back to that. It was a little harder to get lessons now, for her thoughts had a trick of wandering off and even in study hall she could sometimes see in her mind’s eye that half embarrassed but very earnest young man who had bid her goodbye.
“What are you smiling about?” somebody would ask her, perhaps.
“Oh, just a pleasant thought,” she would reply. “I occasionally have one!”
G. A. A. affairs took much of her extra time. The Girl Reserves were having a banquet. Fortunately she was not on one of the committees. She hoped to have a Girl Reserve ring at the spring ceremonial, when they had a beautiful service at one of the churches and the girls would be in full white uniform to march in. That ring, given not for advance in scholarship but in recognition of development in character, would mean something to Betty. She had tried, not only to meet the various demands, but to be fair and just and kind and lend an ear to the various ideals suggested as graces in the well-rounded character. Betty loved the Girl Reserves and all that they stood for. And what fun they could have, too, just like the scouts and camp-fire girls. If “nothing happened” she would be allowed to go to camp again during some period after school was out. Yet she could not plan beyond her diploma, for receiving that would mark one “jumping off place.” Would there be anything left of her by that time?
Her “grand rush” was occasionally recognized by her mother with a formal welcome when she came home late. “Miss Lee, I believe?” her mother would inquire, offering her the tips of her fingers from a hand held high.
“Yes,” Betty would reply, extending her own fingers, “glad to meet you.” Then she usually received an embrace and a motherly kiss with a searching look into what was usually a blooming face. Sometimes she would be tired out and then she was promptly told to stretch out for half an hour and “think of nothing.” In the pleasant process of thinking of—Larry Waite—she usually dropped to sleep, waking refreshed for dinner and the evening.
The inner hiking club of the G. A. A.’s had one winter hike, almost a spring hike, indeed, for a few birds were back in warm late February days before March winds began. But pussy willows were in bud. Betty saw a bluebird, several robins, some downy and hairy woodpeckers, a whisking titmouse and two of his cousins, the black-capped titmice, or chickadees. But they were Carolina chickadees Betty thought, though they did not make identification sure by singing. Only “chickadee-dee-dee,” they said. The hike was almost a committee meeting of those prominent seniors, for there was so much to plan. Betty was selling tickets already for the orchestra concert. She was in the “senior” orchestra indeed, in these days. Ted Dorrance and she had always that in common, love for the violin.
“It’s a pity that Ted doesn’t see more of you, Betty,” said Doris, one time when she had been unusually thoughtful, sitting in Betty’s room to hear all about an orchestra practice when three boys had been sent to “D. T.,” otherwise known as “detention,” by a leader whose patience was exhausted in enduring various capers.
“Why?” asked Betty.
“Because you are both so crazy about the violin. Wouldn’t it be fine to marry somebody like Ted?”
“Ted is nice enough for any one,” said Betty and meant it. “But imagine two people practicing on violins. The neighbors would never stand it.”
This seemed to amuse Doris very much and after she finished laughing she announced that she quite agreed. But Doris never knew that once Betty had had almost the same idea, never fully acknowledged, even to herself. Then there was Arthur Penrose, so congenial in every way, always to be a friend. But some one else had become so dear. Betty was sure that she never would change this time.
In March the results of the endurance swim were proclaimed and published in the Lyon’sRoar. Betty Lee led with the highest individual score, and naturally this senior class stood highest of the classes. Perhaps Betty’s influence and swimming had helped make swimming popular with the girls of her class, for she had taken honors almost from the first.
The faculty played its annual game with the boys’ basketball team, with the usual fun. But some of the faculty played well and though the boys, as usual, beat, it was not without some effort. Then the ladies of the faculty who could play had a game with the girls of basketball fame, in a game which Amy Lou pronounced a “scream.” Betty saved her adorable Miss Heath from a bad fall which seemed imminent, but made the basket instead of her.
Betty attended to the matter of a nominating committee for G. A. A. officers for the next year. That would be accomplished in advance this time and the junior girls would have the advantage of planning with the present officers. Then came the life-saving tests for juniors and seniors. Betty, as she practiced for hers, tried to imagine how it would seem in the ocean waves that she remembered from the last summer. Her thoughts of Larry became less of a beautiful dream. They faced the reality that she had not heard from him.
How fortunate that she had made a confidant of no one. She felt sure that he had been in earnest. Betty could trust a friend. Yet after all, he had merely told her that he loved her. Perhaps it was a sudden impulse. Some people were like that, she knew. A kiss didn’t mean anything to them. But she had felt that Larry was of a higher type. She had all the experience of last summer and her acquaintance with him to prove that.
Very well. Something might have happened. She most certainly would not assume that Larry had bound himself to her in any way. Her pride, if nothing else, would keep her friendly. And oh, how fortunate that he had not asked her ifshelovedhim! That would have been hard, though Betty did not reason that hurt pride would enter into that situation.
At all events, whatever the cause, budding warmth in love was decidedly chilled. With her usual determination, Betty filled her mind as well as her time, with all that was going on in relation to school. She did not see Marcella, as it happened, for Marcella was as busy as she, and after a few little trips back and forth between the houses, shortly after the important party, each girl was busy with her separate school and friends. Marcella had merely said once that it was such a pity Larry had to rush off that way but that her father had to call on him often. “Father isn’t very well, you know, and the business seems to bother him a good deal lately.”
Betty had looked sympathetic and interested, but asked no questions. Another pleasant outlook was hinted at by Marcella, when she said that several of her very special friends were “absolutely charmed” by Betty. That meant the sorority girls that were there. But that matter would take care of itself in the future. Time enough when she was in the university.
One consolation, the weeks flew by so fast that there was no time to grieve over anybody’s neglect. Betty was so tired that she fell asleep almost as soon as her head rested upon her pillow every night. But she ceased to have that pleasant anticipation of a letter. Happy expectancy changed into as calm an acceptance as she could master. The heart and the bit of verse were put away gently in a repository for special treasures, though not without regret. There was no tucking her hand under her pillow to see if Larry’s “heart” were safely there.
One good result of keeping her mind on school was that she “positively” could not give way to “spring fever.” She told Carolyn that she was going on every G. A. A. hike and get her fifty points for fifty miles toward the school letter, as announced.
“Seems to me your astonishing speed this spring is almost feverish,” jokingly returned Carolyn, who was taking matters more easily. “Why not have a good time this last stretch?”
But Betty shook her head. “I’ll have a better time if I take in everything,” said she, “but last fall’s hikes and our Christmas hikea lathe G. A. A. winter bird census are counting, of course.”
“How many ‘all around’ L’s do you want, Betty?”
“Never mind. I’m going to try for Miss Heath’s Latin prize, too, and you’ll see me with my Virgil and prose comp under my arm on every hike.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind, Betty. They’ll put over your grave, ‘Ambition killed her!’”
“Not likely,” laughed Betty, “but you shouldn’t joke on serious subjects. Honestly, now that we’ve passed our life-saving tests, outside of our getting ready for senior examinations there isn’t much left but pure fun. Yes, I do feel a little nervous over the big concert, for the first violins have a lot to handle in some of the music, but that will soon be over. By the way, I’m selling tickets for that; so if you think you or any of your friends would enjoy the concert, please buy them of me.”
“Goose! I’m in it, too! But I’m not selling tickets, so I’ll order those for the family of you.”
Betty knew well that Carolyn was singing with the chorus, but both girls were in high spirits that afternoon, swinging along on their own private little hike in the Gwynne grounds. February and March had passed. It was more than six weeks since the great occasion at Marcella’s. The central feature of this walk and visit with Carolyn was to talk over the committee to be appointed by the vice-president of the G. A. A. in regard to the “Honor Girl.” This committee would consist of several teachers and representatives of each class, who would receive and consider the petitions, presented at an early date and naming candidates for the honor.
Selma Rardon was the vice-president and had consulted with Betty about the appointments. “I told Selma that I wasn’t going to make a single suggestion, but she has a good committee and I think that there will be a number of petitions. We’ll have almost too good a variety to choose from. O Carolyn, you are the loveliest girl in the class and my name is going on a petition for you!”
“I wonder if you could guess whomI’mgoing to suggest as Honor Girl. I’d love to wear the ring, I’ll confess. All of us want it; but I know who deserves it most!”
CHAPTER XVIISHARING JOY
Mrs. Lee sometimes detected a wistful look on Betty’s face, as if she had found out some of the world’s disappointments. There was some little problem in friendship, perhaps, or something about school relations that annoyed her, or she was merely having too much on hand. But for the most part Betty was in good spirits at home and with delightful spring weather she was outdoors with the rest of her friends. She saw a great deal of Lucia Coletti when they had their riding together. Betty’s riding, with all her late instruction, was quite good. She had learned proper posture and all the details necessary to make a good horsewoman. Not at all nervous about horses, she was good material.
“You will be proud of me yet, Mother,” she said, “when some time you see your little Betty take a prize at the Horse Show!”
“Mercy on us! You haven’t that ambition, have you!”
“You never can tell, Mother, what may develop.”
“No—I think by this time that you are right!”
But this was by way of badinage. Betty’s only ambition was to be a good rider.
And so it happened that one afternoon after school Lucia and several other girls were with Betty upon the pretty bridle paths that their teacher frequented. As they slowly walked their horses together, upon a wider road toward the end of their ride, Lucia drew her horse beside Betty’s and said, “I forgot to tell you that we’ve had great excitement at our house. Well, I didn’t want to worry you and I was so late getting here today.”
“Worry? Then it isn’t a pleasant excitement? Nothing the matter with the count and countess, I hope.”
“Oh, no! They mail me a card almost every day and they are having the most marvelous time. It’s the Sevillas. An immense legal envelope came from somewhere, Auntie said, and that seemed to upset Rose a good deal; and then a letter came, all scribbled on and forwarded, and I wondered if it could be from Ramon. But no, it could not have been, Auntie said, because that seemed to be worse than ever. It all looks bad, that no one has heard from Ramon.
“Rose came to her, looking so troubled and said that she was afraid they would have to go away. So I went and talked to Rose. This was yesterday afternoon. She said that it was some one different but just as bad as the original villain we know about and that he threatened all sorts of things to her mother if she didn’t produce the jewels, and I don’t know what else.”
“Why, howcouldshe when she hasn’t them? Oh, do yousuppose, Lucia, that Ramon has gotten them away from that man? There might be a gang of them, you know!”
“Yes, there might. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m going to telephone for the car to come after me. Suppose you call up home and tell your mother that you want to go home with me. You haven’t been to dinner for ages. Or we can just drive around there. That would be better. Then you can get your books and stay all night with me. I don’t know what on earth Auntie will do without Rose now, and besides, they are safer there than anywhere they could go. I told Rose so. I wondered if I ought not to tell her at once about Ramon, but I’d promised. I wanted to ask you about that, but you were flying about everywhere and I was late getting to lunch because I had to stop at the office and wasted ten perfectly good lunchtime minutes, precious as they are, in a necessary confab.”
“Did you have to drink a bottle of milk and swallow a sandwich whole?”
“Almost!”
The plan was carried out. Fortunately, there was nothing but lessons ahead for that evening. The matter of telling Rose and Mrs. Sevilla was discussed between the girls on the way. Betty thought that it should be done, disregarding Ramon’s request. Something might have happened to him, that was true, but Betty said that Mrs. Sevilla “had a right to the facts” as far as the girls knew them.
“Shall I decide to do it, then?” asked Lucia.
“I wouldn’t hesitate a minute,” replied Betty.
“Then you tell Rose all about it, please, Betty. I’ll call her into my room after dinner and we’ll have the whole thing out!”
“Agreed,” said Betty, immediately engrossed in thought as to how she should break the good news to Rose.
The Murchison home was arrayed in fresh spring draperies and Betty thought she never had seen it look so pretty. Rose, sober, and giving Betty only a half smile, as the girls entered the dining-room to find her, was arranging some flowers on the buffet. She answered Betty’s “Good afternoon, Rose,” but started to leave the room at once.
“Just a minute, Rose,” said Lucia. “I know you are busy now, but after dinner, as soon as you can, please come to my room. There is something that Betty knows about and it may cheer you up a little. She thinks so, anyhow.”
“I will come, Miss Lucia.” Rose was always respectful to those who employed her, but she had considerable dignity of manner herself and one saw that there was none of the servility of an inferior.
Dinner was quiet. Mr. Murchison telephoned about five o’clock that he was having dinner with some men at a club, to talk over important affairs. He would be “home early,” however. So reported the butler, who had answered the telephone.
“That may mean early in the evening, or early in the morning, if those men are discussing what I think,” said Mrs. Murchison. But that meant little to Betty. Possibly her father was to be present at the conference which would follow the dinner, or he might be with them at dinner. If Mr. Murchison had come home early and to dinner, however, it would have made a little difference to Rose, and Betty might have missed some interesting information.
She enjoyed the dinner and liked “the new Mrs. Murchison” more than ever. Immediately afterward several friends came in to visit with Mrs. Murchison and the girls shortly retired to Lucia’s pretty room. “Don’t worry, Betty, over how to tell Rose,” Lucia suggested, noting Betty’s thoughtfulness. “You always do things nicely and sometimes, if you are like me, I can do it better if I don’t think up how beforehand and then stammer around trying to think how Ihadthought it up! Let’s get at the lessons and get ahead, so if it takes some time with Rose, we can still get along.”
“Lucia, the wise one,” laughed Betty. They began on their lessons and were studying away, almost forgetting about Rose and her troubles till a light knock on the door roused them.
Rose, her large dark eyes serious, came in and took the chair indicated by Lucia. “We think that you ought to know something, Rose, that Ramon did not want us to tell you, but I’m sure that you will be glad to be told and you can use your own judgment about telling your mother. Betty is going to tell you all about it.”
Rose turned frightened eyes on Betty, who hastened to speak. “Oh, don’t be scared about it, Rose. Part of it is good news. We saw Ramon in Maine this summer.”
Betty did not have a chance to continue, for Rose exclaimed something in Spanish, then—“saw my Ramon in Maine and never told us about it?”
“Heaskedus not to tell, Rose.” Betty paused, to let Rose get this point.
Rose’s expression changed now. “Excuse me. I should know—some good reason.”
“No, I don’t think that it was a good idea of Ramon’s at all. It was all right to keep it from your mother, but you should have known at once. It was only because he was going after that old villain that he was afraid you would worry.”
Rose nodded, then smiled a little. “It is not the first time. Ramon went after—‘villains’ before—much trouble came.”
“I can imagine,” said Betty, recalling Ramon’s intensity and his sudden leaving. But this gave Betty an easy opening to tell the events of the summer before in which Ramon had a part. Rose sat, intent, tense, a frown on her brow, her eyes glowing.
When Betty was all through, undisturbed by a single question from Rose, for Betty was good at describing scenes and events, Rose sighed, relaxed somewhat and said, “That explains a little, perhaps. I will not tell my mother yet. May God preserve my Ramon! I think he has. If you would like to see what we had by the mail, I will bring it.” In answer to Lucia’s nod of assent and expression of interest, Rose left the room, returning presently with the long envelope, which Lucia had mentioned to Betty, and the other letter as well.
While Rose was out, Lucia’s comment to Betty was that both mother and daughter were “rather excitable. Rose has had to learn to control herself, but the mother, though she is so dignified most of the time, goes all to pieces over some things.”
Rose was evidently in good command of herself as she showed the girls a legal document of some sort, though probably a forgery, as all the three thought. It was a summons to appear in a court at some place of which the girls had never heard. Rose thought that it was near Chicago.
The letter was threatening, as Lucia had said. Rose gave them only the gist of it, and she had the same idea as Betty’s first thought. “I think that perhaps my Ramon has gotten the jewels back again and they think that he has sent them to us. But how—have they made him tell where we are?”
That was a thought not so pleasant. Rose’s brows contracted again as she thought of Ramon in their hands.
“I can’t believe that they have got him! He was going to get the jewels and the papers that they tried to get him to sign; and while Ramon does very risky things, he will be more careful this time, especially since he knows that he has practically found you and your mother!” So Betty said, rather explosively.
Rose then gave the girls a brief account of how this had come about. As every one knew, there had been many revolutionary activities in Spain. Her father, loyal to the crown, had been caught in a plot. “They call it ‘framed’ in this country,” said Rose. “Men deceived him. He was put in prison. He was sick and died. They came to steal our jewels and money and papers and took Ramon away—these men, I mean, not the government, though theytoldus so. We followed Ramon, and the plot was to get us away from the country, too. We spoke no English and were in a strange country. This bad man pretended to be kind and help us find Ramon. At last we found him out. He was, from what you tell me, writing lies to Ramon about where we were and trying to get Ramon to send money and the jewels that Ramon had finally gotten—to send them to us. Then he would take them away from us, of course. It would take too long to tell just how he did all this. But such terrible things can be done and no one knew us. We were afraid to do anything until we had found Ramon. Then we thought Ramon must be dead—until you told us! Never will I forget!” Rose put her head in her hands and her shoulders lifted from the sobs she was trying to suppress.
Betty was thinking to herself, “Cansuch things happen in the United States?” But then she had thought that last summer, too.
Then they heard the doorbell ring and it seemed to rouse Rose from her tears that she was trying to wipe away, though more would fall.
“Well, anyhow, Rose,” said Betty, “stay right here, where we know all about you. This is just some more wicked work. Don’t even answer, and put that paper in Mr. Murchison’s hands!”
But there was a tap on Lucia’s door and Rose jumped to her feet, thinking that she might be wanted. She was, indeed, but not for any household duty.
It was Mr. Murchison who stood there, rather shamefacedly holding out two letters. “Rose, I came home early after all, and till this minute I forgot to give you a letter which came addressed to my office today. It’s from Spain, too! I never thought of it till this special delivery letter came this minute, also for you, I think. Don’t worry, Rose, if it is bad news. Mrs. Murchison has been telling me of your new troubles. Just let me handle this for you.”
But Rose had gotten a look at the address upon the letters. Although Betty was not taking Spanish, nor did she belong to the “Spanish Club” at school, as Lucia did, she probably understood as well the meaning of the Spanish phrase in which Rose thanked God, fervently, tears again beginning to fall, but not tears of grief.
“Ramon,Ramon,” she said softly. “Mr. Murchison, both these letters are from my brother!”
“And that one was on my desk almost all day, till I rushed off to dinner with my friends and thought to tuck it in my pocket!”
Rose’s hands were shaking. “Sit right down this minute, Rose,” said Lucia, “and read enough to find out where Ramon is. Uncle says that one is from Spain!” Mr. Murchison himself was already gone.
The girls stepped into the bedroom which Betty always occupied, to allow Rose the privilege of reading her letter alone. “There were all sorts of things on that letter from abroad,” said Betty. “I think it may have been sent to the wrong place and forwarded. The special delivery means that he is either here in this country or has sent on a letter to some one to have mailed.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” said Lucia. “I’ll not be surprised to see the Don walking in at any time.”
“Please come in and let me tell you,” gently said Rose, appearing in the door. The two girls joined her. “I must take these to my mother,” said Rose, folding her hands over the precious letters. “I would let you read them but they are in my language. Ramon has been to Spain. He has seen the king himself. He has proved to him that our father had no part in a plot. He even visited our old home and found letters and papers that we had hidden there. Those he showed to the king. By the grace of God he believed, and it will be safe for us to go home! Oh, I can not tell you what it means! Ramon has found the jewels and the papers he wanted on that little boat, which he followed after they had fixed it up. He put them in a safe place and though he was almost taken again by these bad men that are here, he got away, sailed, and they are waiting for us in Spain with our other property, unless he has thought it safe to bring back and sell here, some of them.
“This was in the letter from Spain. The quick letter here says that he has sailed right away after writing, for a great nobleman there made him a loan and he is to come for us very soon. We are to be ready and I must prepare my mother to see him.”
“Do it, Rose,” said Lucia. “Thank you for telling us. I’ll let Auntie know about it at once, or as soon as her guests go. So you and your mother can be glad all by yourselves.”
“How nicely Rose talks the English since she has been going to night school,” admiringly Betty commented. “She made that as clear as could be to us. It’s as romantic as a novel, only there isn’t any love story in it.”
“Who knows?” asked Lucia. “Rose may have some lover somewhere.”
“Oh, I’m soglad!” cried Betty. “The Don’s troubles worried me from the start. Now it is all explained and when he once comes, their troubles will be over. Did you notice what Rose called the special delivery letter?”
“No.”
“‘Thequickletter!’”