DORIS NEEDS A SISTER
It seemed a very natural thing that Betty should accompany Countess
Coletti and Lucia to church. Mr. Murchison came in later, Horace
having returned for him, Betty supposed. Like a little mouse Betty
sat quietly between the countess and Lucia to listen to the service.
Mathilde Finn, whose church membership was unknown to Betty, sat a
few seats in the rear and Betty hoped that Mathilde was not too
jealous or that she herself would not appear too complacent over her
entertainment. With some of the girls as they were, about notice
from the “nobility,” it was impossible not to feel self-conscious at
times. But Betty had none of that toadying quality in her and was
rather inclined to the other extreme, of letting the “society”
people go more than their half way if they wanted her company. She
knew the sort of people her father and mother admired and numbered
among their friends, people who _were_ in character and ideals, and
it must be confessed that Betty liked “folks that were smart!” By
that Betty meant those who had certain qualities of mind,
irrespective of clothes, or money, or, indeed, opportunity; for
leaders do not always come out of the schools and colleges.
At first Betty could not sing the hymns for listening to the
countess. But she soon piped away, sweetly, too, in a sort of duet
with Lucia, whose voice was contralto. “I’ll sing with you when we
go carolling,” whispered Lucia, with a bright glance, as she took
the hymn-book which they had been sharing.
Betty was ashamed to think afterwards how little of the sermon she
heard, after the first of it. The preacher was a little prosy
compared to her own pastor; and Betty’s thoughts would wander to
what Lucia had told her, to Count and Countess Coletti, and with a
remorseful feeling to the “Sevillas,” who had moved without her
knowledge. One moment she felt that it made no difference and that
they probably were not in the least connected with Ramon; the next
minute she was sure that they were related and had something to do
with the mystery that surrounded the “Don.”
She thought of various things that Lucia could do, to bring her
father—and knew that she could do none of them. But finally the
response and the words of the Scripture, quoted or read by the
minister, or held in the messages of the Christmas hymns that had
been chosen, had their effect on Betty. It would all come right. Why
not take it all to the heavenly Father in prayer, as the preacher
suggested, and leave it there, so far as worry was concerned?
That afternoon Betty went up with Lucia to see Grandmother Ferris
again, at Countess Coletti’s suggestion. “She asked for ‘Mary’ this
morning,” said the countess. The girls found Mrs. Ferris in bed, the
two dolls in a light single bed not far away.
She looked very white and weak, but held out a welcoming hand. Then
she put her finger to her lips to caution them. “Speak gently,” said
she. “‘Willie’ and ‘Josie’ have just gone to sleep.” She called
Betty “Mary” again and spoke of her hair. “Mary, you always had such
pretty hair!”
The girls remained only a short time and Lucia had tears in her eyes
as they went out into the hall. “It’s a good thing that I happened
to join the Lyon ‘Y,’” said Lucia, “and bought those dolls.”
“I wonder if things just ‘happen,’” suggested Betty.
The crimson car deposited Betty, with her baggage, at the Lee home,
late in the afternoon. Doris, in a fine humor, was just helping her
mother set out their light Sunday evening supper. Betty had wondered
how Doris would be and had determined not to do any “raving” about
her good time, for fear Doris might think she was “crowing” or
“gloating” over it; for Doris was a little difficult at times; and
it was not unnatural that she should wish to share her elder
sister’s happy times. But Doris herself asked to hear “all about the
life of the nobility.”
“I suppose you had a gorgeous time, Betty,” said she.
“Oh, yes, and so many girls came Saturday afternoon and we’re having
the prettiest dolls fixed for the Toy Show. I can scarcely tell you
fast enough. When we sit down at the table, I can tell all the
details you’d like to know.”
But Doris was full of her own plans and told Betty how her mother
was letting her “stay all night” with Stacia Barnett, a recent
friend, whom Doris was admiring at present with all her freshman
heart. There was to be a freshman party that afternoon, a Christmas
party, near the Barnett home; so Doris was to go home with Stacia
and stay that Friday night and perhaps over Sunday, the Sunday
before Christmas. “I am going carolling, too,” said Doris.
“That is fine,” said Betty, though she did not admire Stacia
particularly and wondered at the choice of Doris in being as
intimate as the two girls were at present. Doris rattled on, to
Betty’s relief, and Betty’s experience was put into the background,
which was just as well.
Later Mrs. Lee came to Betty to ask her what she thought about her
permitting Doris to go with Stacia for such a visit. “Doris tells me
that Stacia is such a fine girl; and you were not here to tell me
anything about her.” Mrs. Lee looked thoughtful. “You know I do not
approve of week-end visits as a rule, except with older girls. But
Doris was so insistent and reminded me that you were having
‘everything you wanted’—so for the sake of peace I yielded. I
always want you children to do what you want to do, if it is good
for you.”
“I know you do, and you’re the dearest mother in the world!” warmly
said Betty, giving her mother a hug. They were sitting on the edge
of Betty’s bed for a mother and daughter chat.
“I don’t believe there is any harm in letting Doris go, Mother. So
far as I know, Stacia is all right. She puts a good deal of color on
her face sometimes; but some nice girls do, and the freshmen have to
try everything, you know. We can trust Doris to have a little sense,
I suppose.”
“I’m not so sure,” smiled Mrs. Lee. “Doris is getting a little heady
of late. Keep an eye on her at school, Betty. Doris is a lovely
child and I want her to have helpful companions, not the kind that
_she_ has to _help_.”
Betty laughed at that and went on to tell her mother about
Grandmother Ferris and the dolls and how good Mr. Murchison was to
her. “That is something that I thought Father would like to know
about the head of the firm,” finished Betty.
Perhaps it was because Betty had in mind her mother’s injunction
that she happened to see Doris and Stacia in one of the halls at
school as she passed from one class to another.
Doris, seeing Betty, hastened to turn her face in another direction
and stepped behind Stacia. But Betty had already seen that the
bright and attractive face of her younger sister was just a little
too bright, with a stain of color high on her cheeks and a red on
her lips that could only be from lipstick.
“Silly little piece!” thought Betty. “She’s trying to ape Stacia!”
And at home that afternoon, she remarked to Doris, “Someone couldn’t
see me in the hall this morning.” She gave Doris a meaning look as
she said this, but her lips were pursed in an amused smile.
Doris flushed. The applied color had been washed from her face
before her appearance at home. “I saw you taking me in,” she pertly
said. “Don’t you tell mother, Betty. There isn’t anything wicked
about ‘make-up.’”
“Is that what Stacia calls it?” asked Betty. “No, I don’t suppose
there is anything wrong; Mother never said no. It’s Father and Dick
that say they’ll ‘wash our faces’ if they ever see us with any on.
All the same, Mother doesn’t like it.”
“If you didn’t have any more natural color than Stacia has, you’d
use it too, Betty Lee!” cried Doris, still on the defensive, though
Betty had made no threat whatever.
“I wonder,” said Betty. “Honestly, Doris, I always feel that I want
people to like the real me, not any painted up face. But I’ll not
speak of it to Mother. I know you want to have your week-end and so
far as I know Stacia is a good enough girl.”
This speech seemed to annoy Doris still further.
“Oh, you think you’re so smart because you’re a junior! Mother has
promised and I’d have my week-end anyhow. I’d just a little _rather_
you wouldn’t tell Mother. I don’t know that I like lipstick myself.
But it’s my own affair!”
“Yes,” said Betty, “and those things are between you and Mother,
Doris. Still, you shouldn’t let Mother be in the dark about your
friends. Have a good time and tell her all about it—is my advice.”
“I’m not asking for advice, thank you.”
This rebellion and withdrawing from confidence on the part of Doris
was a surprise to Betty, who realized now that she might have seen
it coming. Perhaps she had been too much absorbed in her own
affairs, and with her own friends. She must see more of her at
school, possibly. Since helping her start her freshman year, she had
gone on “her own way rejoicing,” Betty acknowledged to herself. She
had Carolyn and Kathryn and she wondered if she had shut Doris out
too much. That must be changed, provided she _could_ change it now.
She wasn’t going to play the part of mentor. It was for her mother
to rebuke, or manage, and it would be a delicate proposition to
carry out her mother’s injunction to “keep an eye” on Doris.
Betty was a little puled, but the push and stir of her own life with
the hard lessons and all the “extras,” as she told the family, she
hardly had time to breathe! She came through some examinations on
Friday, prepared Monday’s lessons on Saturday, went to Sunday school
and church on Sunday and helped get the family dinner. Then she
declared that she was a wreck and curled up on her bed, under a warm
extra blanket, for a nap.
She had scarcely more than dozed off, she thought, though she found
afterwards that she had been sleeping for two hours, when she heard
a gay voice and some one coming down the hall; and here was Doris,
coming in to put Betty’s over-night bag, borrowed for the occasion,
down on the floor with a bump, and a voice none too gracious
exclaim, “You here, Betty? I thought I was going to get a rest by
myself!”
“You shall,” answered Betty, springing up, thoroughly awake now and
looking at her watch. “I thought you weren’t coming home till
tonight.”
“I wasn’t,” said Doris, banging the door shut. Betty winced and
wondered if Mrs. Lee would not reprove Doris for that. But wise Mrs.
Lee had seen the storm behind the gay manner and jolly greeting with
which Doris had favored her and her father on her entrance. There
was a sudden change now.
“I couldn’t stand it any longer, Betty,” said Doris. “I told Mother
just now that I had a little headache from too much candy and that
is the truth, but not all of it. I haven’t slept a wink, I do
believe, and I’m about dead!”
Betty was off the bed by this time, helping Doris take off her coat
and taking her hat from her hand. “You poor little thing! Let me get
you into bed! How about some peppermint and soda or some milk of
magnesia for the indigestion?” Betty half laughed as she asked this,
and Doris laughed too, but quaveringly, and all at once she put her
head on Betty’s shoulder and sobbed. “Mrs. Barnett gave me an
aspirin for my head. I hated to take it for I never took one before
and it made me feel awfully funny for a while. But I had to make
some excuse for coming home and my head did ache, though not so
terribly. They were just as kind as could be, or meant to be and
I’ll never tell anybody but you all about it.”
Doris said all this in jerks as she sat on the bed, half crying into
her handkerchief and letting Betty draw off her shoes and stockings.
Only a week before Betty had had another experience with tears, at
Lucia’s. It made her feel happier than she had been then, to know
that her prickly little sister was returning to the state of
confidences.
“I can’t imagine, Doris, but the thing for you to do is to get to
sleep. I’m going to fix something warm for you to drink first.”
“No, don’t. Get me the peppermint and that will fix me, and don’t
let Mother know that I’m so dead!”
Usually Mother would have been the first to console, but Doris was
sensitive. When Betty appeared in the living room, Mrs. Lee asked
how Doris was feeling. “There is something the matter, but I thought
that you might handle it.”
“Doris thinks that she hasn’t slept a wink, Mother. She probably
has, for I thought I hadn’t slept and found that I had been asleep
two hours. Doris says that they were very kind but she seems all
tired out and I just helped her off with her clothes so that she
could really go to bed. Don’t you worry. If she wakes up and wants
something to eat in the night, I’ll get it for her!”
Mrs. Lee gave Betty an amused look and said, “Good child. I think
you may have to give Doris a little more of your time, Betty.”
“I’ve just been wondering about that myself, Mother. I’m sorry.”
Little by little Doris told Betty about her visit. There had been a
very pleasant party on Friday to which Doris had gone directly from
home. Then came the evening with Stacia’s family, all kind and
pleasant, Doris said, but “different.” Stacia’s mother and big
sisters smoked cigarettes and Stacia “smoked some” before they went
to bed and “didn’t put up the window; said it was too cold.”
“If you think Stacia paints, you ought to see her sisters, and her
mother, too. They are all what Stacia calls modern, you know. I
liked it at first and they _are_ good folks, Betty—at least
Stacia’s mother and father are. I don’t know about her sisters, or
her brother.
“Well, the radio went all evening and we had to yell to talk above
it. I was too polite at first to talk at all, but I had to. It kept
on going for the late programs and with that and the smoke in the
whole house and no window up, I couldn’t sleep a mite.
“I felt better in the morning and we went down town to do Christmas
shopping. Stacia showed me a lovely shop and I got something nice
for Mother. You mustn’t look in your bag, yet, though, for there’s
something there for you, too. We had a grand lunch, and then, in the
afternoon, Stacia had a little party for me. That is why I can never
say a word about all this. They were so _good_ to me! I’m going to
give Stacia something nice for Christmas—wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would,” gently said Betty.
“That night at supper, dinner, I mean, they had wine, I’m sure. They
did not say what it was, but it was in a wine glass and I tasted it
and it was terribly bitter. I don’t see how anybody likes the stuff.
Jim—that’s Stacia’s brother and such a handsome, dear sort of boy,
about eighteen, I imagine—Jim drank a lot of it, till his father
said real low, ‘That’s enough, Jim.’
“Then they took me to a moving picture, not down town, but in the
suburb, you know. And we stayed up awfully late with the radio again
and this time some more wine, only I didn’t take any, only cake.
Stacia urged me to try one of her sister’s cigarettes. I believe
they don’t want Stacia to smoke yet, so she didn’t do it until we
went upstairs. It made me cough just to smell all the smoke, so I
said ‘no, thank you, Stacia,’ and got undressed. And then—” Doris
lowered her voice—“about two o’clock, I think, somebody came
stumbling up the stairs, and somebody was talking to him, and
helping him, I think. Stacia woke up and sat up in bed. We could see
a little, for there was a light in the hall. She saw I was awake and
I sat up, too.
“Then she said, ‘Oh, that’s just Jim, coming home drunk as usual.’
And she lay down again and went right to sleep! My—I’d never go
right to sleep if it were Dick! And I’ve already asked Stacia to
come here some time for a week-end! What shall I do about it?”
“Have her. Mother will like to do it for you. You needn’t tell her a
thing, but Mother will see some things for herself, you know. We’ll
give Stacia our kind of a good time and your debt will be paid. And
you can keep on being nice to her at school, I should think, Doris.
It’s easy enough to have other friends and stop being intimate
without dropping anybody with a jolt. That wouldn’t be kind.”
“My, Betty, I’m glad you are my sister! I was afraid you’d want me
not to have anything more to do with Stacia, and Stacia likes me.”
“Perhaps you can be a good influence, Doris; but it isn’t very good
for you to make such a close friend of Stacia. I’m sure you will
‘use good judgment about it,’ as Mother always says.”
“My, I’m glad I belong to this family. But Stacia will think us
‘slow.’ That’s her word.”
“We’ll have a party for her and do so many nice things that she will
think being ‘slow’ is the finest thing in the world! Now let’s talk
about Christmas presents.”