MYSTERIES, PREPARATIONS AND A “TRADE-LAST”
It was characteristic of Betty’s rushing life, a life she loved, by
the way, that she should be whisked from Lucia’s woes and the
glimpse of life at the Murchison home to the problems of Doris, in
her own well ordered home, and then to the pushing program of
school, with the last Christmas preparations. Plenty of sleep at
night, on which Betty’s parents insisted as a rule, gave Betty
energy for every day’s full program.
There is no time so full of joyous anticipations, merriment and
human kindness as that just before Christmas. Temporarily Betty was
in charge of a Sunday school class of children, little girls whose
teacher was ill. These she was teaching Luke’s beautiful Christmas
story and to sing out sweetly “It came upon the midnight clear, That
glorious song of old,” for they were to sing that in their Christmas
celebration. Betty herself was to be an angel in the Christmas
pageant at the church and had finally a minor part in the Christmas
play at the high school.
“Oh, yes, Carolyn,” said she one morning at school, “having nothing
to do, I thought I’d take on a few more things to practice for! But
how can you refuse when it’s all so lovely?”
There were pleasing mysteries at home, packages whisked out of the
way and a pretense of not knowing what was perfectly obvious. Of
course, teachers had to give a few last tests to make life more
complicated, but when Dick and Doris crossly complained of one Mrs.
Lee called their attention to the fact that after all the main thing
required of teachers was to have their pupils accomplish the
required work within certain time limits.
“Oh, I suppose they have to,” Doris acknowledged, “but who feels
like studying now?”
And Betty, who always felt that she was expected to be an example,
fully sympathized with both Dick and Doris, though her only response
was a laugh and a few giddy gym steps performed in the dining room
just before she left it to rush to school.
There was generous giving toward the Christmas baskets in Christmas
week. The teachers’ room, to which contributions this time were
brought, had a corner full to overflowing with packages and cans.
The Lyon “Y” basket for the adopted family would have to be a bushel
basket this time and more than a Christmas dinner would be provided.
The display itself was a good reminder and advertisement of kind
things afoot. “Oh, yes; I almost forgot that I was to bring a little
sack of flour,” one girl said; and a boy, who, naturally, did not
belong to the Lyon “Y” put his hand in his pocket to draw out a
quarter and say, “Here, Betty Lee; aren’t you president of that
crowd?” as he waved his hand toward the heap of supplies. “Get some
candy for the kids. Got a quarter, Tom?” And thus Betty added two
quarters to the little fund of money. But she did not know that the
boy who gave the first quarter had only ten cents left for his
lunch. But ten cents would buy something and the feeling of having
done something for some one else is a warming one.
This time Chet Dorrance, Chauncey Allen, Kathryn Allen and Betty Lee
were the only ones who were on hand to deliver the Christmas basket.
“How’ll we ever get everything upstairs?” laughingly asked Betty,
viewing the car after everything was stowed away. “There won’t be
anybody to watch the car, for we’ll all have to carry something.”
“Don’t worry till we get there, Betty,” Chet advised. “You just
leave all the carrying to Chauncey and me.”
“Not a bit of it!” cried Kathryn. “We want to see those little Woods
kiddies. Moreover, cars do lock, Betty.”
“We know where to find them this time anyhow,” said Betty.
Again the Allen car wound round the Lyon High drives out upon the
wide thoroughfare, making its way down town and out to the district
whose buildings and surroundings made it very clear that poverty
marked its inhabitants.
The hall which the young people reached after climbing the two
flights of rickety stairs gave some evidence of having been cleaned
and there was a rush to the door by young feet, they could hear,
after the knock which Kathryn gave.
The door was flung open and grins of pleasure welcomed the high
school representatives. “We saw you come and Mother said we could
open the door,” said the eldest, her eyes big at the array of what
had been brought. “Oh, Mother, come! There’s a bushel basket and
lots of things!”
“Merry Christmas,” said Betty, smiling at everybody, as she looked
past the children at Mrs. Woods, who again appeared with a sleepy
baby that she placed upon the bed. The room, in expectation of the
guests, had been cleaned as carefully as possible and Mrs. Woods
looked as if there was some hope in living now. She was being helped
over the hard place.
“No, thanks, we can’t stay,” continued Betty, at the invitation to
come in. “We have to get back.” With this she handed Mrs. Woods the
small basket she carried and Kathryn put into the hands of the older
girl a package she was holding. Chet and Chauncey lugged in the
bushel basket. “Don’t let the children see what’s in the _little_
basket till Christmas morning, Mrs. Woods,” said Betty with an air
of mystery; and one of the children jumped up and down at that happy
suggestion.
Tears came into Mrs. Woods’ eyes. “May God bless you all,” said she.
“And there is a chance that _he_ may get work the first of the year,
steady work, I mean. He’s out in one of the suburbs now, putting
coal in for a man.”
“Oh, tell me, Mrs. Woods, about the Sevillas,” suddenly said
Kathryn, more or less embarrassed by Mrs. Woods’ fervent thanks, to
which Betty was responding with the wish that everything would “come
right” for them.
“Yes,—sure enough. Why the old lady was well pleased to be
remembered with a Thanksgiving gift and Rosie did not mind as much
as I thought she would. You see it was too late to do anything about
it and Rosie was worried about her old mother, too. I guess all they
needed was something to eat.
“But all at once one morning Rosie came up to say good-bye and they
were moving. Some way or other they had got a new trunk and that and
some old grips were all that went out. She brought up a few things
she was leaving behind. I couldn’t make out just where they were
going from what Rosie said. She didn’t seem to want to tell me
anything. I ran down to tell the old lady good-bye; and when Rosie
was having the trunk taken out, she said that Rosie was frightened
and she didn’t know where they were going, and Rosie didn’t want
anybody to know. They were going to the station from here, but she
thought they would stay in the city. Anyhow that was what I made out
from the bit of English she has finally picked up and her signs with
her poor old hands.
“I’ve inquired, though, and Rosie isn’t working or sewing for the
folks she did work for and nobody knows anything. So I suppose they
did leave town. Only the good Lord knows what will become of them.
The only thing I can think of is that Rosie got a job in some other
place, and I hope that’s it.”
“Did Rosie ever speak of a brother, or cousin, or any relative at
all?” asked Betty.
“Never a word about any one. I never knew anybody as close-mouthed
as Rosie. She was asked all sorts of questions by the folks around
here, of course, but she never let them get well enough acquainted
to keep it up. I didn’t need but a hint myself. I let folks tell
what they want to. I like to keep my own business to myself if I can
with all these!” Mrs. Woods nodded at the children as she spoke.
“I wish I’d seen Rosie,” thoughtfully said Betty, But it was time to
say good-bye and go on to the next duty or pleasure; for this had
been a very “Christmasy” day, the girls declared. There had been the
last rehearsal for the Christmas play, when the performers were
“actually” excused from classes if they had any the “last two bells”
or periods. Tomorrow morning the play would be given in two assembly
gatherings, in order that the whole school might see it. And that
night would listen to the carols.
“Why did you ask about Rosie Sevilla’s relatives?” asked Kathryn of
Betty, and Betty for the first time told about the name on the
letter from Ramon.
“It may not mean anything and again it might,” said Betty. “Once in
a while I feel worried about it. It just seems that I might have
missed an opportunity. There is some mystery about Ramon and there
seems to be about these people. That’s about the only connection.
And they’re Spanish, of course.”
“I wouldn’t worry any, Betty,” said Chet. “You can’t fix up things
for everybody.”
“No,” said Betty, “but you can help sometimes, Chet. Oh, isn’t it
getting dark? I’m glad we’re out of those streets! Do you think
we’ll have snow? I do want snow for Christmas!”
“We still have a little left, Betty,” laughed Kathryn, pointing to a
narrow stretch of dark snow and ice that edged the streets and
walks, or spread in patches over lawns.
“Oh, that!” exclaimed Betty. “I mean something soft and white and
clean.”
“You’re likely to get your wish,” said Chauncey. “There’s one of
those gray snow clouds now from where the wind is blowing.”
“Will we go carolling if it snows?” asked Kathryn.
“Of course we shall,” replied the president of the Lyon “Y.” “We
have cars and people to drive them and chaperons and everything!”
Another duty was performed. Betty was the first one to be dropped
from the Allen car, courteously assisted out by Chet, who would
probably have come in a few moments or lingered at the door to talk,
if it had not been so near dinner time, and if Chauncey had not
privately informed him that no “visiting with best girls” was
allowed this time.
And the next day was the “last day of school!”
That welcome day dawned with a few scattered flakes of snow flying
in a frosty air. In happy anticipation the Lee children hurried
their preparations for school, Betty carefully packing her costume
for the play in a light suitcase, which Dick generously offered to
carry, provided they “had to take” the street car. It was not always
convenient for Mr. Lee to drive his children to school.
“If this goes off as well as the Christmas pageant did at the
church, I’ll be satisfied,” said Betty, her cheeks pink with the
exercise and excitement about coming events, as they boarded the
street car together. The car was packed with boys and girls on their
way to school. Doris and Betty secured a strap each and hung on
while they nodded to this one or that one whom they knew. “Remind me
to tell you a ‘trade last,’ Betty, when we get off the car,” said
Mary Emma, who happened to be sitting by Betty’s strap.
“I’ll not forget to do that,” said Betty, breezily. “Who said it?”
“Guess.”
But Betty would not guess, and there was too much noise for
conversation; for when large numbers of pupils are together, if
manners are remembered at all, older passengers are usually
thankful. But these high school pupils, if a bit noisy at times,
were an interesting and attractive group that needed only occasional
reminders from motorman or conductor when too full of spirits.
Arm in arm with Mary Emma, and carrying her suitcase in her free
hand, Betty traversed the walk to the high school building. “It was
Budd, Betty,” said Mary Emma. “He said that you would have made the
best angel in the play—your hair and eyes and everything—and that
it was too bad you hadn’t been in the dramatic club longer and that
they had to let a senior girl have the part anyway.”
“Why, wasn’t that _nice_ of old Budd!” cried Betty, pleased. “And
the angel has to say things, so it couldn’t be just looks, Budd
meant.”
“Suppose it was—wouldn’t that be nice enough?”
“No, Mary Emma. Looks are something you’re born with and can’t help
and they’re no credit. See?”
“H’m. You’re a funny girl! So are people born either with brains or
without ’em. I don’t agree with you. And I’d rather have looks than
brains.”
“Much you would. But as you’re pretty well supplied with both you
needn’t worry.”
“I thank you,” said Mary Emma with mock formality, as they separated
inside of the door, Mary Emma to seek her locker and home room,
Betty to report first with her costume, before she also would join
the other junior girls of her home room.
So old Budd thought she would have made a good angel. That was nice.
Budd had been at the pageant at the church. He had a part in the
play to be given this morning. And as Betty happened to meet him in
the hall on her way to her home room, she gave him such a welcoming
smile, without realizing it in the least, that Budd was pleasantly
surprised. He believed he’d get ahead of old Chet and ask Betty way
ahead for something or other in the party line. Say, why couldn’t he
take her to that big moving picture that was coming in vacation? It
was a proper one that the Lees would let Betty see. They were almost
silly about Betty; but perhaps that was what made her sort of
different—and independent! Gee-whilikers—but Betty was
independent!