A HAPPY DISCOVERY
Early in May the concert given by the combined musical organizations
was given. That was the next great interest for Betty and her
musical friends. A close study of good music had been made under the
direction of the leader, and the result was an entertainment of
which Lyon High was not ashamed.
Betty, pretty and excited, in her light dress, gracefully
manipulated a bow in the orchestra. Chet was also prominent, tooting
away at the proper time. Lucia sang with the combined glee clubs.
Ted Dorrance and his mother sat near enough for Ted to salute Betty
with hand and head. The entire Lee family attended; and the
countess, with Mr. Murchison and some other friends, sat in the
middle of the balcony. The orchestra was one organization where
favoritism was seldom shown. You played well or you didn’t and were
ranked accordingly. You came to practice or were dropped. You
behaved or you were sent to “D. T.,” the common expression for
“detention” or staying after school in a sort of study hall.
But it was good fun and you met other boys and girls who liked
music, some of them with fine gifts in the line. And dear me, how
wide Betty’s acquaintance had grown to be in these three years at
Lyon High! Hikes and picnics with the G. A. A. or the class or a few
friends; a party here, a meeting there; the Dramatic Club, the Latin
Club, the Girl Reserves and Y. W. affairs. Betty needed a private
directory, she declared, not to forget “who was who and where she
had met them.” Some were more interesting than others, and among
those who were interesting she counted the “Pirate of Penzance,”
Marcia Waite’s brother, from whom she occasionally heard through
Marcia, or Lucia, who was in Marcia’s sorority. Once she had a very
friendly letter from him and at Christmas time he had sent her a
card. He always addressed her as “Titania” in remembrance of their
first meeting on Hallowe’en. It was his face that she had seen in
the mirror. Wouldn’t it be funny if, after all—but what nonsense!
Carolyn and Kathryn were taking a great interest in swimming in this
junior year and now all three were working hard at the life-saving
tests. Betty longed to have some riding lessons to ride “properly,”
with Lucia, for from little things that Lucia said from time to
time, she fancied this to be Lucia’s last year at Lyon High. But
Betty could not do everything. Riding would be just as good another
year, her mother said.
And now, one lovely week-end, Mrs. Murchison sent for Mrs. Lee. The
poor bewildered old lady in the suite upstairs was slipping quietly
over the border from life here to life eternal. Betty went over to
stay with Lucia, who had told Betty before how they had put the
dolls away when Grandmother Ferris had seemed to come to herself for
a while, though weak, sleeping a great deal and finally falling
asleep not to waken.
“This takes away one reason for Mother’s staying here,” said Lucia
to Betty after the funeral, when Betty came after school to stay all
night again. “This is what I wanted to talk over with you, Betty. I
wrote everything to my father, Betty, and I wrote again to Italy
where he is now. I haven’t had a word from him in reply to all I
said, or about coming, just cards about where he was and how soon he
would reach Italy and how he was having the _palao_ opened in Milan.
Now _that_ may mean something. I left the letter where mother would
find it. And Betty, when your mother was here, my mother broke down
a little over grandmother’s going, and I heard her say, ‘Oh, I’m so
_lonely_, Mrs. Lee!’ And your mother asked her right away if her
‘husband’ would not soon return from his African trip. Evidently you
hadn’t told your mother a word.”
“Oh, no, Lucia! Of course not!”
“Mother said she hoped that he’d get back safely, and your mother
said that the hardest thing in the world was for families to be
separated. Probably she has heard some talk about Mother’s staying
here so long, but anyhow she saw this sort of thing is all wrong,
whether I get educated in America or not. I’d stay here another year
alone if I could get mother to go back to my father!”
“_Would_ you, Lucia? I wish you would stay. I hate to lose you for a
friend.”
“You’re never going to lose me, Betty Lee! I need you. Don’t you
think it would be nice to have a real old Italian _palao_ to come to
when you ‘go abroad,’ as they say here.”
“It isn’t possible,” grinned Betty. “That, Lucia, is a fairy story!”
This conversation took place at the scene of previous confidences,
Lucia’s own room. And when the girls started to the drawing room a
little later, they passed a room in which Betty heard the sound of a
machine. “Peep in a moment, Betty,” Lucia suggested, stopping Betty
as she would have gone more rapidly.
Betty looked in at the open door. There sat Giovanna at the machine,
and there in a chair beside her sat a dark-haired girl, simply but
neatly dressed, and weaving a needle in and out in the meshes of
some beautiful lace. As the girls paused, the needle stopped and the
girl turned her head in their direction, to smile at Lucia.
“You saw us in the mirror, didn’t you?” Lucia asked, stepping within
the room. “Betty, see how wonderfully this lace is being mended. She
is practically making lace where it is torn. This is my friend Betty
Lee, Rose. Betty—” but the Countess Coletti was at the door and
spoke.
“Girls, run right down, please. Uncle wants to see you, Lucia.”
With a smile at the “Rose,” who was about to be more fully
introduced to her, she supposed, Betty followed Lucia downstairs,
while the countess went into the sewing room. “I thought I’d
surprise you, Betty, though I almost forgot it,” said Lucia.
“You certainly did! That is the face that we saw at the window when
we went carolling?”
“Yes. It was just accidental we found the girl, though. Mother has
some lace to be mended, as you saw; and when she inquired a little,
one of her friends told her about discovering this girl that does
such fine work.”
“What is her name?”
“Rose Seville, I believe.”
“Seville! That is a place in Spain, isn’t it? First class in
geography stand up, as Mother says! And it’s awfully like Sevilla,
too!”
Lucia looked puled, then saw her uncle, who came from the drawing
room into the hall as the girls reached the foot of the stairs. He
was ready to leave the house, they saw. Nodding to Betty, whom he
had seen before since her arrival, he detained Lucia for some
message; Betty did not hear what it was and would not have listened.
She went on into the drawing room and walked to one of the windows
that looked out upon the lawns, now lovely with flowers.
Betty was thinking about the girl upstairs. Rose, like the “Rosie”
of Mrs. Woods account. Seville, like Sevilla, and that man had
called them the Sevillas. At least _he_ had not found them; and if
this were Ramon’s sister, she must have found enough work to get
along. She would ask Lucia if she might talk to this Rose Seville.
Betty had not long to wait and when Lucia came into the room to find
her she told her that she had a “mystery to solve,” a statement that
interested Lucia exceedingly. They sat down together on the soft
cushions of a handsome davenport while Betty told Lucia “all about
it.” With a bit of her mother’s energy and direct efficiency, Lucia
jumped up and declared that they would find out at once. Two eager
girls ran up the stairs to the sewing room, which the countess was
just leaving.
“Wait a minute, Mother, please,” asked Lucia. “Betty wants to speak
to Rose and I think you will be interested.”
Smilingly, and with her usual poise, the countess waited, Lucia
slipping her hand into that of her mother and standing back a
little, near the door, while Betty stepped closer to the girl that
raised such surprised but beautiful eyes to her.
“Excuse me, Miss Seville,” said Betty, “but your name reminds me of
some one that I do not know, but—that I may have some good news
for.” Betty spoke rather stumblingly, in her effort not to startle
the girl if she were the lost “Rosie.”
“I have been wanting to find a lady and her daughter named Sevilla
ever since a Mrs. Woods told me about them.” Betty stopped, for the
girl before her turned pale and started to rise hastily.
“But you know I said I have good news for them!” exclaimed Betty,
certain now.
“Oh!” exclaimed the girl, dropping back. The countess drew a little
nearer and spoke reassuringly. “Rose, this young girl is perfectly
safe with any secret you may have, and so are we. Nothing can harm
you here.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the girl, softly, again. “I—yes. I am the one they
called Rosie Sevilla there.”
“And have you a brother called Ramon? Because we know a very nice
boy that was known as Ramon Balinsky here; but he went away and we
had a letter from him, and it’s very likely that he will come back
to see us some time.”
Now the girl was all eager interest. The countess drew the lace from
her hands and lap and sat down herself, in Giovanna’s vacant chair,
to listen while Betty told all she knew and Rose acknowledged that
they had been looking for Ramon. “Some time I can tell you all,” she
said in her soft English with the foreign accent. “Ramon is a good
boy. The jewels are our own. That man has been deceiving us first
and then doing us all the harm he could. When we at last found out
more about him, we tried to escape him and find Ramon. Then he must
be looking for us, too. We went away from the rooms we had because I
had seen that evil man upon the street here and I knew he would find
us. Then a friend we have told us that he had gone and we came back
because I could have work here and knew some good people like the
countess here. The pretty Italian signorina here told me that she
had seen me when the pretty carols were sung. I listened, but my
mother, who is old and sick, wanted me to put down the window.”
Rose stopped, but looked troubled. “When did the man come to see
your father? He has come back again!”
“It was some time ago,” answered Betty, “and Father thought that he
would probably go to Detroit to look for Ramon.”
“He has money—our money, and he will kill Ramon, I think.”
“Perhaps he’s been just scaring you,” suggested Betty. “He did not
look so terrible as that.”
“He is a serpent,” said Rose. “Some time I may tell you more, if you
care about it.”
The countess, listening, had not much relished having Lucia called
the “Italian signorina,” however flatteringly, as Lucia herself had
noted by her mother’s expression. Oh, yes, Countess Coletti was
making an American out of her daughter—_perhaps_, Lucia thought.
But the countess had an idea.
“Rose,” she said, “how would you like to bring your mother here and
help me for a while? You would be safe, I think, and especially if
we arrange for another of your names to be used. I suppose you have
a string of them, like most of the noble families in the old world.”
“Yes. That has been our mistake—but we wanted Ramon to be able to
find us if he were still alive.”
“Poor child!” cried the countess. “There are those rooms on the
third floor since Grandmother Ferris has gone. They are in a wing,
by themselves. I will speak to my brother about it. The nurse and
maid who took care of Madam Ferris both wanted to leave. There is
much to be done, with her private possessions all to be looked over;
and some way I can not bear to do it, or let careless people do it.
I could use you in many ways, Rose and we would pay you well. Will
you come?”
“Can you mean that?” Rose Sevilla was eagerly leaning forward,
almost afraid to believe the countess. Rich people sometimes had
kind impulses and then forgot!
“I mean it,” smiled Countess Coletti. “Finish the lace now. Come
tomorrow and by that time I will have consulted our new housekeeper
and considered the matter of furniture and just what rooms shall be
cleared for you and your mother. There is every arrangement for
cooking light meals there, since it was often necessary.”
“Mother is more sick with worry than anything,” said Rosie. “This
news will make her happy—and to be safe! She is old and has been
through so much that it will be like heaven here! I will do
everything. No work is too hard for me.”
The countess smiled. “You shall do enough to earn the way of both of
you, never fear, though I shall want to know some time what daughter
of Spanish nobles is living on our third floor.”
Rose smiled at that. “You shall know all, perhaps, some day. I thank
you for _trusting_ me!”
At last the trail was laid to bring Ramon and his mother and sister
together. Betty felt satisfied. Her neglect or carelessness earlier
in the steps of identification had not been fatal to the final
outcome. And it was Lucia and the carolling that were finally
responsible, as she told Lucia.
“Yes, and who got me to join the Girl Reserves?” asked Lucia. “Now
bring my father over here, Betty, and you _will_ fix us all up!”
“That is beyond little me,” laughed Betty. “That is quite your job,
Signorina Coletti!”