AN UNHAPPY INTERVIEW
Then there _was_ something in the remarks that had been made about
Jack Huxley. Betty woke early after a few hours’ sleep, recalling
the sound of low voices, those of her father and mother, talking
over the matter, of course. Careful not to waken Doris, Betty
presently gathered up her school clothes and went to the bathroom to
dress; but she was not the first one up. She could hear some one,
presumably her mother, moving about in the other part of the
apartment.
Before Betty combed her tousled golden head, she hurried into the
kitchen and found her mother fixing grape fruit for breakfast. It
was during a sad but short interval without the little maid. Mrs.
Lee looked at Betty with a whimsical smile and asked, “How’s the
‘wreck of the Hesperus?’”—for that was Betty’s favorite expression
when she was tired.
Betty, rather white this morning, laughed a little. “How well you
understand, Mother,” she said. “It doesn’t seem quite so tragic this
morning, that is, for me. I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t it be better
for me not to tell about this and just to say what a good dinner it
was and how much trouble they went to to give Jack a big party, if
the girls ask about it?”
“Decidedly so, Betty, for the sake of everybody concerned. You were
caught in a group about whose doings we’ve heard. We’ll find out
more again before you accept an invitation. But there was no
intention on the part of any one to annoy or injure you, though
there was not the proper chaperonage; and of course the whole
setting was as different as possible from what we approve. But you
don’t mean that you would continue a special friendship with Jack,
do you?”
“Oh, no!” Betty looked rather distressed at the thought of Jack. “If
I hadn’t been so stubborn, I might have known. There were little
things—and then his ideas—and a few things said. But Jack is
really a dear boy, Mother.”
“Yes. So your father said. We talked a good part of the night.”
“I suppose so. I’m sorry, Mother. Well, I’ll handle it the best I
can, and I decided that I’d not act offended about it to Jack, but
just tell him frankly all about how I felt. I wish I could say
something to make him see how it is, but I suppose there isn’t much
use trying.”
Mrs. Lee smiled. “It is to Jack’s credit that he has been attracted
to the sort of a girl you are, Betty. There is certainly no
advantage in being unkind; but you must be firm about such
associations. No, I suppose with his parents’ ideas, his environment
and possible heritage, it would be a difficult thing to pull Jack
away from that sort of thing; and I should not like to have my
daughter run the risk that much association there would bring.
“Your father and I felt very indignant at first. We do yet in a way.
But you escaped harm, providentially. No good will be achieved by
your adding to the gossip that there will probably be about it. The
effect of ‘public opinion’ is sometimes a deterrent, but in the case
of young people, your father and I always think private correction
is the best. Just keep as still as you can Betty, and see what
happens. Surely Jack will make some inquiry in regard to how you got
home.”
Betty shook her head doubtfully. “Perhaps he got to be like the girl
the colored maid said had ‘passed out.’ I was so scared for a
minute, thinking that she meant really dead! If he did, he wouldn’t
know a thing about it. It’s very queer. I suppose his father and
mother really didn’t expect it to go so far. When they came back in
the car, it was to be used to take us home, I suppose.”
“Not much use in supposing. Think out what you want to say at school
about it Betty, and we shall see what happens. I have in mind what I
want to say to Jack’s mother some time. Run along and finish
dressing, and awaken Doris, please. You will feel better when you
have breakfast. Think about your lessons now, if you can.”
“I can all right,” replied Betty with a toss of her head and the
ghost of a smile at her mother, as she followed directions.
The full program at school was a blessing that day. “Have a good
time at your party?” asked several of the girls who knew about it,
putting the question in various ways and at different times. And
Betty brightly replied that there was a “wonderful dinner” and
“quite a crowd.” Neither Jack nor Mathilde was at school, which
lessened Betty’s embarrassment. She really dreaded to meet Jack
Huxley. Lunch she hurried through and fortunately there was no
practice in anything after school. She hung from a strap in the
crowded street car and escaped any prolonged conversation with any
one.
“There has been no telephone message from Jack,” her mother said,
upon Betty’s inquiry. “I thought he _might_ call up to see if I had
gotten home all right, but of course he’d hate to say why he didn’t
come himself. I have half a notion to call up Mathilde.”
But Betty thought better of this. She would not make the first move.
And she certainly would never apologize for leaving that party! “Was
everyone intoxicated, Betty?” asked her father as he had an
opportunity to talk with her privately.
“Oh, no. But almost all the boys and girls had taken a little of
whatever it was and were more—lively, you know, or silly, and there
were a few, like me, that didn’t know what to do with the silly
ones, at least they looked as if they were not enjoying it, and it
was sort of loud and noisy—oh, I can’t tell you all the little
things that made me feel I didn’t have to stay and stand it. If Mrs.
Huxley had been there, I would have gone to speak to her. I thought
of leaving a note for her, but I didn’t have any paper or pencil.
But I’m not sure that she would have thought it as horrid as I did.”
“We shall see that you do not have such an experience again, Betty,”
said her father. “You will have to have a talk with Jack, of course.
That is inevitable. But I am sure that you are able to meet the
situation.”
Betty was not quite sure just _how_ she could meet it, but the very
distance from the party was helpful now, in point of time and
reflection upon it. Two days went by. No Jack at school. Mathilde
was there, but carefully keeping away from Betty as Betty was
keeping away from her. Then came the week-end and Monday again. Jack
was in his classes. Lucia Coletti was back having had a touch of
tonsillitis. Betty saw her and overheard her saying to Jack that she
was “so sorry” she missed his party.
But some little echo of affairs had reached the school. The junior
reporter of the school paper came to Betty with a puled look upon
her face. “Betty, tell me about Jack Huxley’s birthday party. We
were going to make a note of it, mostly something nice about Jack,
if we could, though it wasn’t a junior party, of course, and I heard
that they were mostly outsiders. How about it?”
“There was a notice of it in the newspaper. Did you see that? In the
junior society doings?”
“No.”
“There was a list of names given, the more prominent ones, at least,
though I was omitted by some terrible mistake.” Betty was laughing
as she said this. She had been thankful enough when she saw that the
list was not complete.
“Well, I missed that. But Betty—one of the boys handed me something
intended for a joke on Jack, perhaps, but I’ve heard something else,
too—that it was a wild party and that they had flasks and
drank—but you wouldn’t have been to one, would you?”
“Not if I could help it,” laughed Betty, speaking quite honestly at
that. “What was the joke on Jack?”
The girl looked through some notes she had. “I haven’t brought it, I
guess. Why, it wanted to know why Jack wasn’t able to come to school
the next day after his party, and some more like that.”
“I don’t believe I’d put that in,” said Betty. “Jack hasn’t been
here very long; and besides, if there _is_ any gossip, it would only
make it worse. I’ll hunt up the account in the paper, if you like,
and bring it to school tomorrow. You might just copy it and add
something like congratulations to Jack on his birthday. Mrs. Huxley
certainly made a great dinner for Jack, served by their butler and
other servants, and the house is beautiful, new, you know. Yes, the
crowd was mostly older than we juniors are. Mathilde was the only
one I really knew, though I believe there were two or three senior
girls there.”
“Thanks, Betty. I thought you would know. I believe I’ll do what you
suggest and if you’ll bring that account tomorrow it will be in
plenty of time. All the copy has to go in tomorrow afternoon.”
The young “reporter” ran away satisfied and Betty turned, to come
face to face with Jack. She flushed and her heart beat a little
faster than usual. How she dreaded the interview which must occur
sooner or later!
Jack was as sober as she ever saw him look, and she did not realize
how thoughtful and serious a face she raised to him. Brown and blue
eyes regarded each other for a moment. “Betty,” said he, “I’ve got
to talk to you. When can I see you?”
“Would you like to come out to the house?” inquired Betty.
“I should say not!” Jack seemed more startled at the idea than rude.
“Can’t I see you after school? I’ve got my roadster.”
Betty shook her head negatively at that suggestion.
“If you don’t want to ride with me, Betty, I’ll take you to the
nearest park or tea room, where we can talk. I wouldn’t mind having
you seen with me today, after what I understand they’re telling,
about the party, in school. Would you do it? What was that girl
asking you—if you don’t mind telling? I heard you say ‘Jack,’ as I
came up and stopped to wait.”
“That was the reporter for the paper, Jack. I think I fixed that for
you.”
“Thanks. I just found out, Betty, that you went home by yourself. I
was mad about it at first, but I got over that and I think I owe you
an apology.”
“Yes. I think you do, Jack. But it might be just as well if you’d
stay mad. Still, we must talk it over. We’ll be late to our classes
now, Jack. See me after school. I’ll meet you in front and we’ll
decide then where to go.”
Betty hurried off, but it was a gym class this time and with the
changing of shoes, or the donning of bathing suits for the pool,
there was often some irregularity in appearance at the exact time.
As Betty cut the water like the goldfish her father sometimes called
her, she wondered what in the world she would say to Jack. Yes, she
would let him drive her to the small park not far away. There was
the chaperonage of people coming and going, and yet they could talk
uninterrupted. If it would do him any good in the eyes of the school
to have her seem to be as friendly as ever, she would be glad. Under
the circumstances, it could not hurt her and their future dropping
of contact was no more than often happened anyway. But Betty did not
take lightly what had happened. She would tell Jack just how she
felt about it. Yet, dear me, the more you thought about it the worse
it was; and who could tell beforehand what she was going to say?
Usually it was something entirely different from what you had
thought up!
Chet Dorrance and Chauncey Allen, racing to the street car together,
saw Betty walking toward the side street with Jack. “I wonder if
Betty’s folks would like to have her go around with Jack Huxley if
they knew all about him,” Chauncey was looking after Betty, as they
stopped to let a few machines pass before crossing to take their car
or wait for it.
“I suppose that party must have been all right,” said Chet, “in
spite of what they say, or Betty wouldn’t be with him now.”
“You never can tell about a girl,” replied Chauncey. “I’m sorry to
say it, Chet, but maybe she likes him.”
“Don’t mind me, Chauncey,” facetiously said Chet, with a grin.
“Maybe she does, but I’d rather see Betty pick out some other sort
of a boy.”
Meanwhile Betty was settling herself in the gay roadster and Jack
was starting.