“GOLDEN BETTY”
It was a full day for Betty Lee. Most of her days were full, but Betty
was well and happy and never worried over her various activities, which
had increased since her freshman year, so mixed and full of decisions.
One might as well be doing things, she said. If you didn’t do one thing
you were doing another. So she had concluded. And as long as she kept on
the honor list no one at home made any objection to the list of her
interests.
Attractive, friendly, yet independent, showing her clear mind and
stability in everything she undertook, Betty was in demand and found
herself very well-known, indeed, at the beginning of her junior year.
She was considered one of the school’s best swimmers, but had not taken
the life-saving tests as yet. That was to come this year. She was
working toward it. The hockey season had just closed with Betty
rejoicing as captain of the champion team. There was every indication
that Betty again would be captain of the junior basketball team, but
there were some murmurs at home against this and another junior girl
wanted the place. Betty loved the excitement and confessed to herself
alone that she would like to be captain. In the spring she was going to
take up riding if she could.
Life was a happy proposition for Betty Lee this year. At home she had
less responsibility. Her father’s business relations were apparently
solid. Amy Lou had started to school. Doris and Dick were freshmen in
Lyon High this year. Betty often met them in the halls, when they would
exchange salutes; but Doris particularly wanted no interference from her
older sister and Betty respected her desire for independence. She had
been of some help to them at the start, however, and Doris was secretly
quite proud of her pretty junior sister that “everybody” knew for her
athletic record and “everything.”
Recitation periods were necessarily shortened on account of the Pep
Assembly, which made the schedule a more hurried one. Betty ran
downstairs and hopped upstairs, as she went from one to another class,
planning how to get in her study for the next day as well as marshalling
her forces for the coming class. She read a hard sentence in Cicero to
Kathryn as they walked through the hall to Miss Heath’s room. “That’s
the way I got it!” cried Kathryn, “but it is so crazy that I wasn’t
sure.”
“I may not have it right,” said Betty, “but I think that is what it is.”
“I’ll trust your reading every time,” Kathryn declared.
“Better not; but I found an old text of Mother’s that has _grand_ notes
in it and I use it along with my own. I could bring it to school and
lend it to you in study hall some time.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll ask you about anything too muddly.”
“I’m getting used to Cicero now.”
“So am I, but it’s harder than Caesar because he has a sort of argument,
you know, that you have to get.”
Betty was glad that she had study hall the last period before lunch. It
was all too short, but she concentrated and lost to all surroundings,
“crammed” on two lessons. Latin and Math could be acquired that
evening—no—Chet was coming over! There was a young people’s supper and
party at the church! Oh, well. She’d get it in somehow. And Betty would.
The afternoon went as busily, though the periods were of the usual
length. How was she going to get to that Lyon “Y” meeting when there was
orchestra practice? She had not thought of that! But when school was out
and she had put away her books in her locker, with the exception of what
she must take home, she ran to the auditorium with her violin only to
find a notice:
“Orchestra practice postponed until tomorrow. Same hour!”
The violin went back into the locker, for there would be no home
practice tonight! Arm in arm with Carolyn Gwynne, who had also seen the
notice and waited for Betty, she ran in fine spirits to the room in
which the Lyon “Y,” or the older high school group of Girl Reserves, was
to meet. “Got the letter, Betty?” asked Carolyn.
“Yes—but I’d better look to see!” Betty opened her little bag, which
contained her street car fare and several other things, felt around and
found the letter from the “Don,” folded to come within the compass of
the bag. “You can read it after the meeting, Carolyn. But don’t you know
I’d forgotten all about the church supper tonight and I’ll have to skip
home to get a lesson or two before dinner.”
“Stay here and get out Cicero with me. It won’t take us any time because
she had us do so much sight reading ahead today. There are two or three
clubs meeting and the building will be open, you know.”
“All right. Here’s hoping that this meeting will not take too long.
There’s a program, you know, and election of officers. Bess Higgins
resigned and so they’re going to have the whole new group elected and
let the new president begin right away.”
“That’s funny. How do you like the idea of different officers for the
two semesters?”
“I don’t know how it will work, but it makes more girls do things and
that is a good thing. Oh, Carolyn, I wouldn’t have missed that Fall
Retreat at camp for anything! Just one week-end was glorious and Father
says perhaps I can go there for a week or two next summer after school.
I wish I could go!”
“Perhaps I can. The family could go on without me and I could go with
you and on to our own camp later.”
“Oh, Carolyn! And stay with me at our house before the Girl Reserve camp
opens!”
Betty gave a happy skip, but here they were at the door through which
other girls were entering. A little group was standing at one side near
a window. Kathryn was among them and beckoned to Carolyn and Betty.
“This is a caucus,” announced Kathryn. “You are not wanted Betty, only
to say that you will be president if you get elected. We have to know.”
“Oh, _do_ you?” laughed Betty. “This is so sudden! Why, I don’t care,
Kathryn. If there’s anybody else that wants it, I don’t.” Then she drew
Kathryn aside to speak more quietly. “Is this the nominating committee?”
“Yes, and some more of us that heard they were going to nominate a girl
that wouldn’t do _one thing_. She is sweet enough about some things and
she wants the honor of it. I’d like to have her have it for that, but
nothing would get put through. Miss Street is new to us and all she
knows about Clara Lovel is that she is a senior and is a good student.”
Miss Street was the new leader of this high school group. Betty told
Kathryn that there was little use in putting up a junior against a
senior, and told her to select another senior to run against Clara.
“There isn’t anything in your objection that it is customary to have a
senior for president,” Kathryn countered in this little debate. “One of
the best presidents Lyon ‘Y’ ever had was a junior. I found out before I
went into this, Miss Betty Lee!”
“All right, Kathryn. I’ll not resign if I’m elected, for Lyon ‘Y’ is one
of the best clubs we have and does some good, too. I’m on the committee
for the Thanksgiving basket. Will you help me if I have to be president,
too?”
“I’ll do anything!” grinned Kathryn, running back to the group of girls.
“There are more juniors than seniors working in this club,” she
whispered to a junior on the committee. “I bet we get Betty in if you
put her up.”
Surreptitiously Betty did look at one of her lessons, whose book she let
lie open on her lap during a little of the program. But when the leader
of the high school groups spoke, she listened attentively, both for the
lovely ideals of service which were presented and for the practical
matters which she would have to handle if she were president of this
group. It would be a “lot of work” and Betty sighed as she thought about
it; but she had “the girls” to help her through. Carolyn, Kathryn,
Peggy—perhaps she could get Lucia to join now! Oh, that would be great,
because if Lucia joined it meant that some of the “society” girls, or
girls that did not care much for anything of this sort would come in.
They’d have a membership campaign and she’d appoint Lucia chairman!
Then Betty smiled at herself for planning before her name was even
suggested!
“What are you grinning about, Betty?” whispered Peggy Pollard, who had
plumped herself wearily down by Betty at the beginning of the program.
“Oh—things,” smiled Betty. There was more or less disorder just now,
for the girls were distributing ballots. Then the announcement of names
returned by the nominating committee was made and Betty had the
experience, not entirely new, of hearing herself named a nominee for
president. “I’m going to vote and then skip out,” she told Peggy. “I’ve
got lessons to get, Carolyn and I will be getting Cicero just inside the
auditorium; so come and tell us how it turned out—like a nice girl!”
“Oh, but we’re going to have tea afterwards,” objected Peggy.
“Well, call us in time for that, like a dear! I’m hard up for time.”
“All right. It will take a while to call off the ballots and tally up
everything on the board. I’ll come when we’ve everybody else served. You
don’t want to miss those cakes. Our cook made some of them.”
“My—have I almost missed those?”
But Betty and Carolyn slipped out as soon as their ballots had been
handed to the girl that collected them. In two seats near a window in
the auditorium they sat and read Cicero as fast as possible, deciding to
let the undecided points go and cover ground at first, getting the
vocabulary looked up at least. “You aren’t the least bit excited over
running for office, are you, Betty?” asked Carolyn, stopping in the
middle of a sentence. They had to read sitting close together and in a
tone, not loud, but such as would not be drowned out by the practicing
going on upon the platform. This was the mixed chorus, for whose
practice that of the orchestra had been postponed.
“What’s the use?” asked Betty in return. “If I get it, it’s lots of
work. If I don’t get it, I think I can stand the disgrace!”
Carolyn joined Betty’s laugh, but added that she was chiefly consumed
with curiosity over that letter she was to read. “I don’t believe you’ll
let me read it after all!”
“I have my doubts as to its being the thing to do,” returned Betty, “but
I’ve got to get this Latin!”
It was wonderful what determined minds could do in a short time, though
it seemed no time at all until Peggy appeared as the mixed chorus was
departing. Tea and sandwiches, and more tea and delicious little cakes,
tasted very good and “reviving,” as Betty declared. Peggy would not tell
Betty who was elected until they reached the room and Betty declared
that she had lost it of course, or Peggy would not have been afraid that
Betty might refuse to come in at all, even for the little cakes.
But no sooner had Betty and Carolyn appeared than congratulations began
and the general leader appointed a time to meet with Miss Street and
Betty to talk over plans for the present and future. A few days remained
before the plans for Thanksgiving baskets must be carried out, before
the Thanksgiving recess or vacation. Betty’s head was fairly bewildered,
she told Carolyn; but she supposed she would “get used to it.”
Then the girls found a sequestered spot in an empty recitation room not
yet locked by the janitor. “There,” said Betty, handing Carolyn the
letter.
Carolyn turned it to see the return address on the envelope. “He expects
you to answer it, I see, though he gives only street and number.”
“I suppose so. He just wants to know if we are alive, of course.”
“H’m. Some town in Michigan. I can’t make out the postmark.”
“He gives the _full_ address inside. It’s Detroit.”
Carolyn, unhurried, in spite of her calm of being so curious, drew the
letter from its envelope, remarking that the Don had gotten nice
stationery for his letter to Betty. It “looked serious,” she thought.
“Nonsense,” returned Betty. “Hurry up and read it, Carolyn.”
No criticism could have been made of the form of this letter, written in
a firm and flowing hand. After the matter of address and date and the
more formal beginning, in which Betty was addressed as Miss Lee, the
letter ran as follows:
“After so long a time, perhaps you have forgotten me. I was very
sorry to leave the city so suddenly, but it was necessary, in regard
to my private affairs, which I am not able to confide to my friends.
A letter called me away. I packed, arranged with my landlady and the
man for whom I worked and left on the next train. I took my books
and I am trying to educate myself a little now that I am working
here. I read the best that the libraries have to offer. Perhaps I
shall be able to go to school some time again, but it is uncertain,
like my residence here.
“So many times I have thought of the kind gentleman, Mr. Lee, whose
car I sometimes fixed, of the sweet mother and the golden Betty that
made a lonely boy welcome on a holiday. And so I write at last to
tell them that I have not forgotten and to ask if I will be welcome
to call some day when I can return.
“I shall be so glad if you can write to tell me how you have passed
these long months and if your family is well. I have hesitated to
write to your father, who is so busy with important things, but I
thought that in your kindness you would be willing to answer this
letter.
“Please give my greetings to any of the high school friends who
remember me. It is a very vivid memory of one of the happiest times
I ever had that makes me write this at the near approach of the same
holiday.
“With regards to all and gratitude for past kindness, I am,
“Very respectfully yours,
“RAMON BALINSKY (Sevilla).”
“Why what does he mean by that name in parenthesis!” cried Carolyn.
“That’s funny!”
“I don’t know. There’s a town in Spain named Seville, isn’t there!
But whether that’s a part of his own name or not I can’t tell. Ramon
gets mysteriouser and mysteriouser!”
“Betty Sevilla would sound better than Betty Balinsky, except for
the alliteration.” Carolyn was very sober as she said this.
“Now don’t start anything like that, please.”
“‘The golden Betty,’” quoted Carolyn, still without a smile, but her
eyes twinkled and she laughed as she repeated it. “‘Golden
Betty,’—my word! Going to answer the letter?”
“Mother says I should, just a little one.”
“He writes very ‘grown-up,’ and the spelling is all right. I don’t
know why I didn’t expect it to be, when I saw the clear handwriting
on the envelope.”
“The Don had had training before he ever came here,” said Betty. “I
suppose he gets training from the good English he is reading right
along. I wish I knew just what to write him.”
“To be friendly enough and not too friendly, I suppose.”
“Exactly. Still, Carolyn, from what I saw of Ramon, I don’t think
he’d ever presume on any pleasant treatment. I’ll have to think it
out.”