GIVING UP A PLEASANT HONOR
The delightful but irregular and rather upsetting vacation of the
Christmas holidays soon became a memory. It must be said that Mrs.
Lee drew a sigh of relief when the children were all back in
school and hours became regular again without the parties and
entertainments, glad as she was to have her children enjoy them.
They went through these carefree and youthful days but once. If she
could guide and guard them it was enough.
Betty declared to Lucia that the face at the window haunted her. She
had “half a notion” to call there and see who was so unhappy. But
Mrs. Lee was doubtful of the wisdom of such a call and advised Betty
to find out something about the handsome girl from some social
worker of the neighborhood. And Betty thought she would take her
mother’s suggestion. Yet when was there “time for anything?”
“Mid-years,” the semester examinations, were approaching. Betty was
glad that she had studied her lessons at the proper time. She
followed the reviews and “crammed” a little on the side, on lines
where she was not as sure; but she did not worry as some more
nervous girls seemed to do. Peggy Pollard said that she was sitting
up nights on Math, and Mathilde Finn looked worried, which was
something for Mathilde to do over lessons. Several of the “very
nicest” junior girls were being tutored and Miss Heath sacrificed
her time and strength to hold a review class after school for some
of her pupils who were “shaky,” as Miss Heath told Betty.
“Oh, I’d love to come in, Miss Heath, to review. Could I?” asked
Betty.
“You do not need it, Betty, and you would be wasting time. Besides,
it is not in Cicero.”
That settled the class question. Betty did need time, though there
was little to do now in the girl reserve work, for the committees
handled the programs and Betty had little to do except to preside at
the meetings. Orchestra practice was interesting, if exacting, and
Betty was “crazy about” the Dramatic Club. Basketball practice was
going on, but Mr. Lee had asked Betty not to be on the team which
played the competitive class games.
It was a disappointment to Betty and she argued at some length,
though respectfully, with her father. Her father was “such a dear”
and “always let you say anything you wanted to on _your_ side,” she
told Carolyn Gwynne.
“Here I like athletics almost better than anything,” said Betty,
“and want to get honors, and Father won’t let me play! It was
getting hurt that time, Carolyn, that did it. I told him that it was
only a practice game and that I might get hurt just
playing—anything. He acknowledged that what I said was so, but I
know he thinks I won’t play so often if I can’t be on the regular
teams. He tells me to continue being his little fish in swimming and
when I said that I didn’t like the expression, he said ‘Be a
mermaid, then—a siren, and lure your cruel father to the rocks.’”
“And what do you think Mother put in? She was listening to our
argument and hadn’t said a word, but now she said, ‘financial rocks,
Father!’ And that was because we had been talking about the clothes
Doris and I need for spring.”
Carolyn laughed and asked when Betty was hurt. “I don’t seem to
remember it, Betty.”
“It wasn’t _anything_! I got knocked down and twisted something or
other, sort of a sprain, and hobbled around for a week or so. The
worst was over a week-end and Father had a doctor to look at my
ankle.”
“Oh, yes. I do seem to remember your limping a little one time.
Well, the girls will be disappointed and I know they’re worrying for
fear Mathilde will be captain.”
“How can she, if they don’t want her?”
“Mathilde is an awfully good player now and stands in with the
teacher that has charge this year and she’ll work it some way—she
has influence with some of the girls.”
“Yes,” thoughtfully Betty returned. “That makes me feel better about
it, though. I’ve been too rushed to pay much attention to
‘politics.’ And I thought a different girl wanted it.”
“How in the world does that make you feel better, Betty?”
“Because I wouldn’t want to fight to be captain or anything. Some of
the girls took it for granted that I would be captain, and I was
silly enough to believe that perhaps I could be. You noticed what
the school paper said, didn’t you?”
“Yes. You got quite a puff on your athletics, Betty. ‘With Betty Lee
at the head of the junior team, that unusual class is likely to
carry off the honors in basketball this year.’ Aha! No wonder you
felt like arguing the matter with your father! Can’t you persuade
him? It isn’t too late yet.”
“Perhaps I could get his consent, Carolyn; but I know that it will
worry him and after all, it _is_ a strain, though so awfully
exciting and jolly. If Mathilde wants it, let her have it. The only
thing about Mathilde is that she isn’t fair and will take any
advantage that she can. We could easily lose games that way,
Carolyn, even if she is a good player.”
“We certainly could, and _crede mihi_, Betty, I’m going to see if we
can’t get somebody else for captain.”
“Fine! I’ll support you, Carolyn, in anything you start, only I
can’t play on the team myself.”
“Worse luck!” But Carolyn laughed. “I ’spect you’re safer to do what
your father wants you to do, and you can’t do everything, _crede
mihi_!”
“_‘Crede mihi’_—I can’t,” laughed Betty. “Do you suppose _‘mihi’_
ought to come before _‘crede’_? Oh, yes, imperative first!”
“_‘O tempora, o mores!’_” replied Carolyn, grinning. “Yes, don’t you
remember we looked it up in the vocabulary, after we found it
somewhere and then couldn’t find it again? If ‘take my word for it’
isn’t enough like ‘believe _me_’ then I can’t read Cicero!”
This conversation took place long before “mid-years,” as may be
gathered from the fact that basketball was in the early stages.
Betty’s special friends had been looking up a few Latin phrases to
take the place of slang expressions which their English teacher was
urging her pupils to drop, telling them that they would soon think
in no other terms. Home influences, however, kept Betty and most of
these girl from taking on the coarser expressions which they heard
from some of their acquaintances.
Started in this way, it became fun to take out of Cicero, orations
or elsewhere, little phrases like _ubi est?_ or _Quid loquor?_
_Quid agis?—O miserabile me!—horribile dictu—age vero—da
operam_, and other expressions all had possibilities, though
sometimes, it must be said that the old Romans would not have
recognized some of the uses to which their language was applied. But
it was all a part of the very active and happy life led by Betty Lee
junior at Lyon High.
Mr. Lee had not asked Betty to curtail any of her pleasures without
good reason. Betty’s parents had noted certain effects in the
previous year which did not seem good, chief of which was a
temporary suffering of Betty’s work during the basketball season and
her being more or less nervous and under a strain. Then, as Mrs. Lee
watched several games, she saw the possibility of accident in the
fast playing, and as Betty thought, the small injury was the final
argument.
But this curtailment left Betty more free for other lines of work
and her time was too full for many regrets. It was rather pleasant,
to be sure, to have certain girls exclaim over her defection and
prophesy dire results to the team. And Betty was big enough at heart
to be honestly glad when the juniors under Mathilde played well,
winning over all the classes except the seniors. There at last came
their Waterloo. For the seniors had previous defeat to wipe out.
They had the best team that they had ever had in basketball. The
girls of that class had never been particularly noted in athletic
lines, but as Kathryn declared, they had concentrated on basketball
“to beat _us_.” And beat the juniors they did.
The school paper came out with big headlines over the result. The
seniors chortled. Chet at first avoided any comment when with Betty,
but his eyes twinkled when she congratulated him as a member of the
class. “The girls have been very sure they would win over your class
ever since you refused to be captain, Betty.”
“Nice suggestion, Chet, but I didn’t refuse to be captain and
perhaps I couldn’t have been even if I hadn’t dropped out of the
games. Besides, Mathilde is as good as I am.”
“You go too far to be honest, Betty. Sure I know all about that; but
it’s more than likely that you would have led your girls to victory.
Our girls had a lot of confidence, besides having practiced like
mad. Your girls played well, but they lacked that punch to put it
over when they had a little bad luck. And they didn’t trust Mathilde
as they would have trusted you. It’s funny, but there is a lot in
the psychology of a game. It isn’t just good playing.”
“My, Chet! Where do you get ‘psychology?’ Is Ted taking it at the
University?” Betty was laughing.
“I reckon! But I get it out of the athletics in the paper. I read
the reports of the big games, you see.”
“I suppose so. I only look to see which teams beat. Dick’s the one
at our house who reads the sport page.”