Читать книгу Betty Lee, Junior - Harriet Pyne Grove - Страница 5

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On guard against the dangers of a city, or of doubtful companionship, Betty Lee’s parents had little to worry over; for Betty had a healthy mind and body, wholesome activities to occupy her time and girls very like herself for her best friends. The matter of attention from the boys Betty seemed to be able to manage herself, though Mr. Lee took careful note of who and what the boys were.

Betty Lee, junior, was now almost sixteen and attractive. There would be problems of love affairs some time, but not yet, it was to be hoped, though Betty was mature for her age and had considered herself as “going on sixteen” ever since her last birthday. Betty’s dreams of a Prince Charming were natural enough but not serious and never connected with anyone in the flesh, unless a thrilling memory of one Hallowe’en and of attention from a college youth on a later occasion could be considered as coming in the category of dreams.

Chet Dorrance had recovered from his first attack of being impressed with a girl and was less “obvious” in his attentions to Betty. But he still preferred her society when he could get it, for picnics, class parties and the like, seeing her home or arranging for her company. Betty in her turn, had confidence in Chet, who was always the gentleman, and felt safely escorted when she was with him. There was nothing “thrilling” about the friendship and the girls rarely teased Betty about Chet. Very little of what could properly be termed social life was permitted by any of the parents who were the safe background of Betty and her friends. Contacts were chiefly at school and in school activities, all very natural and pleasant. Another boy for whom Betty felt a real friendliness was Chauncey Allen, Kathryn’s brother. Chauncey had taken a sudden upward growth till Kathryn looked like a little girl beside him and her vivacious ways were in contrast with his quiet though often droll speech and action. He was active enough, to be sure, and was to play with the basketball team after Christmas. From him, since she and Kathryn were together so much, Betty heard all the boy news of the school, but Chauncey rarely engaged her society for any event. Indeed, Chauncey rarely bothered about girls, though he liked Betty, Kathryn said that since Chet fancied Betty, Chauncey would “let it go at that.”

In regard to Ramon Balinsky, whom Peggy had once thought so intriguing as a football hero, Betty was grateful to her father when he said that he would write himself, since “the boy might need a friend.” “Perhaps he has some new trouble,” said Mr. Lee that night before dinner, when Betty caught him alone and asked what she should write. “Write a short friendly note, Betty, and I’ll say the rest.”

Before the church supper, then, much as Betty needed the time on lessons, she spoiled several sheets of good note paper in the process of getting the appropriate thing said. The note was written and pronounced a “friendly, modest little effort,” by the censor-in-chief. Betty then dismissed the matter from her mind, though occasionally thinking of Ramon’s expression, “Golden Betty,” when as girls do, she spent some time in arranging her golden locks according to the most becoming of the approved high school styles. One had to look well in Lyon High!

But as Betty said sometimes to Kathryn or Carolyn, whenever she was in danger of being spoiled by thinking she could do well in athletics, or looked nice, or felt “set up” about what somebody had said, she always “got a good jolt of some sort, to bring her down a peg or two.” And Kathryn or Carolyn would reply, “Life is like that, Betty!”

A little jolt was coming that evening, though Betty, satisfied that she could finish her lessons by rising a little earlier than usual the next morning, happily started off with Chet, a little late for the young people’s supper. “Do you have to help any tonight?” asked Chet, who knew that Betty was often called on by the committees. Chet did not belong to Betty’s church, but had a little habit of dropping in when something attractive was going on. The turkey suppers were usually served by the ladies’ committees, but this one was entirely in the hands of the younger organizations.

“No, Chet, unless with the games. I’m going to help with the Christmas music and the tree and the Sunday school doings and I told them I couldn’t do anything more this time. Is Ted coming tonight?”

“Yes. He’s bringing his latest girl. She’s a freshman, too, at the University.”

Betty made a little sound that might have been termed a giggle. Attractive Ted, Chet’s brother, the first boy who had claimed Betty’s admiring attention on her entrance to Lyon High, was probably not any more given to social relations with the girls than many of the other older boys they knew; but as he had a way of charming courtesy toward a young lady and a frank form of speech about her, always complimentary, he was considered as being in love with one and another in rather rapid succession, a very foolish proceeding, as some of the girls said. Betty reserved her opinion. Ted was a “nice boy” and was doing well at the university.

“Does Ted keep up his music?” asked Betty.

“No. He hasn’t any time for it with his freshman work.”

“Would you believe, Chet, that I could be as dumb as I was about thinking that I couldn’t join the orchestra until I was a junior?”

“Why? Did you think that, Betty? I could have told you.”

“Well, little country girl that I was, I believed everything that was told me, of course——”

“I haven’t any such impression,” laughed Chet, who thought Betty quite capable of looking after her rights and privileges. He often told her that she was “little Miss Independence.”

“I almost did, anyhow, Chet; and the summer after my freshman year, when I was taking up violin, you know, someone told me that—perhaps just to joke me—and while I thought that some of the boys and girls I saw in it were freshmen and sophomores, I supposed it was just because they were specially gifted that they were allowed to play. I wasn’t especially gifted and as I was paying attention to all sorts of other things, I never found out till the middle of my sophomore year that junior orchestra only meant second to the senior orchestra, sort of a preparation for it! It was just as well, for I needed more lessons and practice.”

“Mother says that you play very well, Betty, and that means something from her.”

“Your mother is a dear. Mine is crazy about her.”

Betty’s mother would scarcely have used the same terms about her feeling toward Mrs. Dorrance, with whom she had become very well acquainted, but Chet understood the common parlance of the girls and was not likely to assume that Betty’s mother was perishing with admiration.

They had been walking quite a little distance to catch a car which would drop them near the church. Now they swung on and finding a seat without trouble, watched the winter landscape as they rode and talked. Some other young people whom they knew were on the car and quite a crowd came from this and another car just ahead, to swell the numbers at the church. But as often happens, though they were a little late, the supper, too, was not being served at quite the appointed hour and Betty and Chet sat down at the first tables to find themselves with many others that they knew. And oh, that good turkey and the full plates! “If you want plenty to eat for your money, Chet,” remarked the boy next to him, “just come to one of the suppers here!”

But whom did Betty find next to her but Clara Lovel, the rival candidate for president of Lyon “Y”? Both girls felt a little self-conscious. Betty and Chet had been seated first and Betty knew that Clara, who came with Brad Warren, did not notice at all who was near her, when she whipped into a seat as she was joking with two or three others. All were pretending to scramble for places. Clara was inclined to make herself a little conspicuous as a rule and was now rather over-dressed for the occasion, though going out with an escort might be considered as demanding special preparation.

As they were served almost at once, it was several minutes before Clara noticed Betty. Betty, who was expecting it, observed from Clara’s expression that her surprise was not an agreeable one, but Betty, who was picking up her fork, pleasantly said “good evening, Clara. This seems to be a good place to come for supper.”

Clara’s murmured reply was scarcely audible and she began to talk in an animated fashion with Brad, who leaned back in his chair, however, to say “how-do-you-do” to Betty and Chet. Supper engaged their attention, with the passing of rolls and butter, cream and sugar, the big dish of cranberry sauce and one or two other homey and appetizing accompaniments of the turkey supper. But Betty did wish that she had a chance to tell Clara that she had not worked for that office against her. Still, it was probably best not to mention it. Clara was quite stiff in her necessary remarks as something must be passed, or when Chet, saying something to Brad, drew Clara into the conversation.

Impulsively, at last, as they were finishing on pumpkin pie, Betty spoke in a low tone, not to be heard in the midst of other conversation about them. Chet was talking to the “waitress,” who had brought him his pie and whom they all knew. She was a junior girl at Lyon High. Brad had turned to the boy next to him with some question about the coming game.

“Clara,” said Betty, “I’ve been wanting to tell you all evening that I didn’t do a thing to work for that being president of Lyon ‘Y.’ The whole thing was a surprise to me and it wasn’t even mentioned to me till just before the election. I imagine that it was the surprise of it to everybody that gave me the most votes—or something like that.”

“The girls who were there wanted you or you would not have been elected,” stiffly said Clara in reply. “But I really have so many things on hand, with my sorority and all we do, and my part in the Christmas play, and my music and art, that I could not do justice to being president of anything. I really can’t approve of a junior’s being president. I was very much surprised that the leader permitted it at all; but I’m sure that you will do very well and I hope that you get through with it without any trouble.”

Clara’s tone was very patronizing indeed, and as she was one of the older seniors, Betty claimed afterward that she felt like a worm! “I’ll do my best,” Betty meekly replied, “and I hope that you will help out on the music at our programs. You play the piano so beautifully. We need some good programs, too.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly act on any program committee,” airily and decisively said the senior, “but I might play for you some time.”

“Thank you,” said Betty, feeling that she should never want to ask Clara, yet knowing that she should not feel that way. The mention of the sorority, of course, was to impress a non-sorority girl. Clara was not a Kappa Upsilon, and Betty really did not know to what sorority she did belong.

Betty had not noticed that another girl had come up behind Clara, evidently in time to hear most of what was said, but now one of Clara’s senior friends leaned over to say, “Take the last bite of that pie, Brad. I want you and Clara to help start one of the games.”

“After this dinner?” queried Brad, springing up, for Clara had risen. And as Betty still sat by Chet, she heard Clara say something in a low tone to the senior girl, who said with the evident purpose of being heard, “The nerve of her mentioning it at all!”

It was not pleasant to Betty, who wished, indeed, that she had employed “more sense.” Probably it was “nerve,” but she had not meant it so. She did not speak of it to Chet and entered the games happily enough, having learned a little lesson, however. She had not known Clara well enough to bring up the subject; and probably it was not best to be so frank except with your best friends. Betty wondered about that. Clara probably thought that Betty was gloating over being elected! Oh, another thing! Betty had forgotten about how the seniors felt about being beaten in basketball the year before. That class, so far as the girls were concerned, happened not to be so good in athletics. The present junior girls usually beat them and Betty was prominent among those who played basketball and hockey. Dear, dear, how complicated things were sometimes. And it was important for the “good works” of Lyon “Y” to have everybody co-operate! “I wonder if I have enough tact to be president of anything,” thought honest Betty to herself, as she submitted to having a fool’s cap on her head, for some game and puzzled Chet by saying that it was the “most appropriate cap she could wear.”

“What’s the sense to that remark, Betty?” asked Chet.

“None,” laughed Betty. “I’m just a little dippy tonight.”

There was plenty of real fun and in a good safe place; but Betty took cold from getting too warm and then rushing out to look at the stars without enough around her. A young university professor pointed out some of the constellations to a group of young people. It was interesting and Betty did not realize how cold she was until Chet said, “You’re shivering, Betty Lee. Come right inside. They’ve a one-cent grab-bag and we may draw whistles for tomorrow’s game.”

“Sure you can afford it, Chet?” laughed Betty as she followed obediently.

That Betty missed pneumonia was providential, her mother told her; but feeling that she was taking cold, Betty herself took the usual preventives and went to bed. It was late, to be sure, and she had intended to get up early the next morning. But she forgot to set the alarm on the little clock and woke only when her mother called her. She set a book before her at the breakfast table and studied on the street car as best she could; but what a poor beginning to the day it was! There was nothing but the game to anticipate, so far as pleasure was concerned. Her throat tickled, but Carolyn, who also had a slight cold, had some cough drops. They positively could not miss that game!

Betty was not sure of herself in recitation that Friday. She stumbled through English, in which she was usually so good that her teacher looked surprised, but refrained from comment, as Betty was one of her best pupils. Her mind would not work in “Math,” but she managed to get through with a recitation in that. One bright spot in the gloom was that there was no recitation in Latin. Miss Heath was ill, the substitute hadn’t come, and they had study hall instead.

Betty, who liked Miss Heath, hoped that she was not too ill and asked Carolyn if it “wouldn’t turn out like that!”

“The one lesson we got, Carolyn, we didn’t have to recite and my study hall came too late to save me. I just about half recited this morning!”

“Well, remember we’ve our Monday’s lesson ahead, Betty.”

“Sure enough. Aren’t you encouraging?”

Betty and Carolyn shared a steamer rug, brought by Carolyn on some previous occasion and kept in her locker. The weather had moderated from the little flurry of snow and a cold day or two which they had had. But at that the game did not help Betty’s cold any. She forgot it in the general commotion, enthusiasm, singing and cheering that went on, but her handkerchief was needed to catch the sneezes.

A wintry sun shone down on field and stadium. Several hundred boys and girls and their elders tensely followed the plays, but oh, at last they won! It was by a narrow margin, for the Eagles were playing to keep the glory won the year before; but what shouts went up from the Lyon High rooters when the last score was made and the boys carried “Kentucky” from the field on their shoulders. “Kentucky” had made the last touchdown.

“And Kentucky will be on the team next year, too, Carolyn,” said Betty. “He’s a conditioned senior, but they say he isn’t going to try to make it this year. He’s going to take some extra work he wants and stay another year!”

“Go home and put that cold to bed, Betty,” was Carolyn’s last bit of advice.

“Oh dear, I suppose I must. I can’t afford to get sick with all there is to do.”