AN ANNOYING CALL
The occasional entertainment at the home of Mrs. Dorrance was always
welcome to Betty. The next day at school went rapidly and beyond a
short business meeting of Lyon “Y” there was nothing to detain her
after school. Jack saw her in the halls and walked a few steps with
her once or twice, but he evidently had important business with the
boys. Chet was as usual, but merely saluted her once in the passage
from classes and said: “You won’t forget to come out tonight,” while
Betty replied, “No, indeed.”
She dressed carefully and watched the time at home, for she wanted
to arrive early enough and no too early. For some reason she had
forgotten that Chet had said they would call for her. Perhaps it was
Chet’s remark about _not forgetting_ that misled her! She was
dressed, however, when a jolly load drove up and Chet ran up the Lee
steps to ring the bell. Ted, Chet and several girls were in the car,
Ted driving, and they added Betty to their number, when she came
running along by Chet. There was quiet merriment afoot and Ted
called back, “Can you add another blossom to our bouquet of beauty,
Chet?”
“Listen,” said Betty, climbing in. “I can sit on somebody’s lap back
here.”
“Spoil the ruffles, Betty—wait till I turn down that seat. There
you are! You are the last.”
The dinner was good and Mrs. Dorrance seemed to enjoy her young
guests. Betty supposed that one of the older girls must be some
special friend of Ted’s, his latest inamorata, but there was nothing
to indicate it. Ted was his happy self and host to all of them
alike. In all, there were four girls, Mrs. Dorrance, Ted and Chet.
The time after dinner, indeed, during the meal, was partly taken in
explanation of what Mrs. Dorrance wanted the girls to do and a
discussion of what costume should be worn. A display of nations was
one of the features of the festival and the girls all decided that
since they might have their choice among several nations they would
represent Holland.
“Do you have to sell just Dutch things?” asked one.
“No, indeed,” said Mrs. Dorrance, “but we’ll have some Dutch
specialties in the line of things to eat, you know, if there are
any——”
Mrs. Dorrance stopped to think and one of the girls spoke
quickly—“Oh, and some china with windmills on it, and wooden shoes
and little things like that, to give a Dutch atmosphere.”
“I speak to buy some ‘Old Dutch Cleanser,’” gravely said Ted and
raised a laugh, though Mrs. Dorrance said that a few boxes of that
“well-advertised commodity” would probably be a funny feature and
sell, at that.
“I’ll paint a china cup and saucer with a Dutch design,” said a girl
that Betty hoped was Ted’s friend, for she was so sweet. “I’m doing
that sort of thing in art now, and I’ll just make that little
contribution.”
“We ought to have a little girl or two, to clatter around in wooden
shoes,” remarked Mrs. Dorrance. “Betty, you have two sisters. Would
they like to do it, or would it be too much trouble for your mother?
Our old down town church is short of children that I can ask, or
that could assist without a good deal of help on my part.”
“Mrs. Dorrance, my sisters would think it a great privilege to dress
up and be in the picture, so to speak. I can help them get ready.
And Dick does some carving at school. Could he make a few little
tiny shoes? Oh, how would a few fixed up with little pin-cushions
inside do?”
“Fine, Betty!” said Chet. “Mother, with all these girls, I think you
can fold your hands. They’ll have so many ideas that all you will
need to do will be to engage a policeman to manage the crowds around
the booth. Put your prices low enough and the ten cent store can go
out of business!”
Betty and Chet exchanged glances, merry ones. Chet was a dear, and
getting to be as funny as Ted! It was all fixed up about Doris, and
Amy Lou, too! How she would love it!
It was another extra, to take time, of course, but Mrs. Lee was
interested and promised to help with the costumes. There was plenty
of time, for it was to be an outdoor affair, if possible, though
that plan might change if there were a rainy week or so, as
sometimes happened.
The birthday party, too, was three weeks away from the day Jack
asked Betty to attend. That was something to anticipate. Meantime
there was a “junior picnic” on a bright spring day. The athletes of
the group employed that as a hike, to count on their points, but it
was a limited party this time, gotten up by about twenty junior
boys, with as many girls as their guests. Jack invited Betty; and
one of the teachers of athletics among the girls went along as
chaperon.
As none of the senior boys Betty knew could attend this picnic,
there was no embarrassment for her in Jack’s friendly attentions.
That young man, too, seemed to realize that he must change his
attitude and be friendly to the other girls as well. He “could not
have been nicer,” Betty reported to Doris at home when she told
about their fun and the camp fire and the boating on the river. “‘No
canoes,’ Doris, our chaperon said, but we went to that picnic place,
you know where they have a little launch. So if there _was_ a pretty
good current in the river, we were safe enough. I’m glad it’s
Friday, for I’m simply dead after all the walking we did. It wasn’t
so far from the street car, but we tramped around in the woods,
hunting flowers and listening to the birds. It was a wonderful day
for birds. Jack doesn’t care for hiking, he told me, especially
since he has his new roadster; and he says that on the ‘next picnic’
he’s going to take me in it, though I’m sure that I’d rather go with
a whole machine full, to be jollier and not to let Jack think it’s
very—special, you know, Doris. But he was great today, just as nice
as can be to all the girls. I think they will have a different
opinion of him now. Lucia’s being so pleasant to him makes a
difference, too. She said when a lot of us were sitting around
eating lunch, that her mother used to know Jack’s mother when they
were girls, just what she told me. And she did the introducing to
several girls instead of me, as it happened.”
So the busy days whirled by. There was a girls’ swimming meet for
which Betty had been preparing, though that was only fun. And it
happened that Mr. Lee’s “little fish” or “mermaid” won more honors
for her school, attempting more difficult feats than in her
sophomore year. Betty was working now, also, on the life-saving
tests, of practical importance, her father told her, though she must
be “fit” and ready for them.
One more occurrence that deeply interested Betty Lee happened before
the birthday party. It was on Saturday afternoon, when Mr. Lee had
come home from the closed office and sat at his desk, for which
there was no good place except the living room. He was figuring away
at something and looked annoyed when the bell rang. “Mother, I
simply must have another spot for his desk,” he said whimsically, as
with a resigned expression he jumped up and answered the bell
himself.
“You shall, my dear,” replied his wife, as he disappeared into the
hallway. Betty and Mrs. Lee were in the dining room, a little back
from the double doors, or rather draped opening which separated the
living room from the dining room. The dining table was spread with
papers and covered with scraps from the “rag-bag” except where half
a dozen tiny wooden shoes stood ready to be filled with the small
pin-cushions which Mrs. Lee and Betty were making. Betty was
enjoying it. It was so nice to have an afternoon at home just to
“fiddle around” and do what you felt like doing. This wasn’t work!
But from where Betty sat, she had a good look at a gentleman whom
her father was ushering into the front room. Or was he a gentleman?
Betty had a momentary impression of a very ordinary looking man,
dark, fairly well-dressed but not well set up, as Betty thought. His
shoulders were a little stooped and he gave a furtive look through
the curtains that fell at the side of the open doorway.
But he began to speak in a suave way, “oily,” Betty called it
afterwards:
“I’m not here to take much of your time, Mr. Lee, but I was directed
to you by some one who thought you could tell me about where I could
find a boy that was going here by the name of Ramon Balinsky.”
“Yes?” returned Mr. Lee, waiting for more explanation. Betty dropped
the little cushion she was making and leaned forward, exchanging a
glance with her mother.
The man hesitated, expecting a more enthusiastic reply, it might be
presumed. But Betty could imagine the calm but cool expression with
which her father was regarding the stranger, having courteously and
kindly brought him in.
“Do you know him, Mr. Lee?”
“Yes, I know to whom you refer. He was a nice lad, looked after my
car for me at times.”
“Yes. I found the garage where he worked and found that he went to
school here for awhile. Well, do you know where he is now?”
“That might be hard to say. Perhaps you will explain your interest
in him.”
Betty, tense, hoped that her father would not tell about the letter.
Perhaps this was somebody that wanted to hurt Ramon! There was that
story that Ramon was running away from some one, or that he was
after somebody himself. Mrs. Lee made a little gesture and smiled at
Betty. It meant, “Calm yourself, little daughter,” and Betty leaned
back in her chair with a soft sigh. Good for her father. He wasn’t
going to tell everything he knew unless he was sure that it was all
right.
“I have good news for him. Some of his mother’s Spanish property has
been recovered, that is, certain papers found. I was a lawyer, you
call it, for the Sevillas.”
Betty made a comical face and looked at her mother. This man did not
look like much of a lawyer. But perhaps he had fallen upon difficult
times.
“Sevillas?” asked Mr. Lee.
“Yes,” the man replied, rather fiercely, Betty thought. “That boy is
not all that you might think. He has run away because he stole a
parcel of jewelry that belonged to a very noble family in Spain.
Consequently he has taken a name that belongs to his father’s
family. But I traced him in spite of it!”
“Well, do you intend to let the ‘noble family’ prosecute him if you
find him?”
“By no means,” and the man’s voice changed, as he realized that he
had let a bit of vindictive feeling creep into his tone. “No, I have
arranged that. If he will return what he has left of the jewels and
let me know if he has found his mother and sister, all will be
forgiven. It is a long case and can’t be hastily explained. I must
find Ramon first. He did not tell you then that his true name was
Sevilla?”
“He said nothing to me about it,” returned Mr. Lee. “Instead, he
told some one of the family that he was guarding against injury at
the hands of some one who was an enemy. Do you know of any one who
would injure Ramon?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “There is, of course, the matter of
the jewels, Mr. Lee. Probably he had that in mind and thought that
he was to be brought to justice. But I can prevent that. Now I went
out to the school and made some inquiries, Mr. Lee. At the office no
one knew what had become of Ramon. I attended a baseball game Friday
afternoon and asked some of the boys to direct me to any who knew
Ramon best. The coach did not know his whereabouts, but there was
one boy who was listening that said you had heard from him
recently.”
It was just as well that the visitor could not see Betty’s changes
of countenance as she listened to the conversation, perfectly sure
that in her role of listener she was quite justified. At the name
“Sevillas” Betty’s eyes opened more widely and her mouth formed an
“Oh,” as she looked sharply at her mother. Two deep frowns came
between her blue eyes now at the mention of the letter. What would
her father say to that?
“Yes,” he was replying, “we heard from Ramon just once, some time
ago. It was chiefly a letter of courtesy, as we had entertained him
and he remembered us pleasantly.”
“Could I see the letter?” eagerly asked the man.
“It has probably been destroyed,” said Mr. Lee, and Betty rolled
dark blue eyes at her mother, who knew she had kept it.
“I could probably recall enough of it to satisfy you, though it
contained no information that was valuable, I judge. It said nothing
of any mother or sister and this is the first that I have heard of
them.”
“Very good,” said the man in a satisfied tone. “Where was he?” he
then asked sharply. Betty frowned again. _Could_ her father tell
him? Then the man would find Ramon and maybe kill him, for all Betty
knew. Horrors! Her father was telling!
“When he wrote us he was in Detroit, but he gave no house address
whatever.”
“Are you sure that no member of your family has heard again?”
“Quite sure, sir.” Mr. Lee spoke in that quiet, final way that
usually closed matters in his office. Betty heard his chair pushed
back and knew that he had risen. “Here’s your hat, what’s your
hurry?” she quoted in a school-girl fashion to her mother in a low
whisper. They sat quietly till the final good afternoon was said and
her father closed the front screen door. Then Betty jumped up and
ran into the front room to meet him.
“Oh, Father, you _told_ him! And I know he’s the ‘villain!’”
Mr. Lee grinned, much as Dick was accustomed to do, and approached
his daughter with his fists closed and the favorite gestures of
small boys about to engage in a fisticuff. That made Betty laugh,
too, and she caught at his threatening arms to hold him.
The arms went around her and then he drew her toward where his wife
was now standing, questioning with her eyes. “As my son would put
it, you think I’ve spilled the beans, don’t you? Well, I haven’t,
kiddie.” Mr. Lee dropped his voice to a stage whisper.
“Ramon Balinsky Sevilla is not _in_ Detroit!”
“Oh, goody! But how do you know. Didn’t you tell the man that you
hadn’t heard from him again!”
“Do you not think I would be justified in a false statement under
the circumstances?”
“Oh, Papa, you just want to get up an argument! I know you! No, I
think you could have handled it some way and I don’t believe you
told a story.”
“Right. Go to the head of the class in diplomacy or whatever it is.
No, I have not heard from Ramon, but I heard from some one who has
seen him and Ramon sent us a message, from Detroit, my dear, and he
was leaving there. In fact, he was at the station when my friend met
him. _Now_ are you satisfied?”
“No,” said Betty, grinning and drawing her father’s arm still
farther over her shoulder. “I want to know what the message was and
why you haven’t given it before.”
“The message was his regards, and I merely forgot all about it.”
“One thing, Father, I wondered about. You said Ramon did not give a
house address.”
“It was not a house address, Betty. If you will look up the letter I
will show you. I’m pretty sure that was his business address. Does
anybody love me?”
“I’ll say,” slangily answered Betty Lee, junior, offering a warm
embrace.