TROPHIES
Was it herself? So thought Betty once during the G. A. A. banquet which
was such an important occasion to its president.
There was the buzz of conversation, the tinkle of some bit of silver,
the subdued laughter of some prettily dressed girl, or other natural
accompaniment of a meal. Students, guests and teachers sat about the
long, flower-decked tables in the familiar lunch room, arranged for the
occasion, and were engaged in the pleasant pastime of disposing of an
excellent banquet menu’s offerings.
But Betty’s chief thoughts were upon her little speech of welcome, with
which the program was to be opened. She sat at the speakers’ table, in
the line of those who were to give toasts or present awards. Rather
overcome at first by being next to the principal himself, Betty faced
her G. A. A. world and glanced from time to time at her notes, concealed
from view in her program. She had attended more than one G. A. A.
banquet, but it was the first time that she had borne any
responsibility.
Tonight she was in front of everybody, for the speakers’ table ran
across the end of the room and was seated upon the one side only, which
thus faced the ends of the other tables. Betty would not be particularly
embarrassed in receiving before every one her coveted pin for riding,
chevrons, or other marks of honors won. But that speech! Well, if she
forgot what she intended to say, she could make up something cordial and
courteous. She had had experience with the Girl Reserves and often had
to say something that she had not expected to. But she had to manage the
program, too, and she did hope that she wouldn’t make any mistakes or
let down into what her father called the school vernacular.
Rather keyed up, Betty rose with senior dignity at the proper time and
made her little speech of welcome and introduction to the purpose and
points of the banquet. She introduced the principal as the first upon
the program and sat down during the applause which both approved of her
speech and recognized the principal. Relieved that there was a favorable
start, Betty had a chance to think of what she was to say next, while
the principal spoke briefly. Two others made short toasts, Carolyn
Gwynne, then one of the girls who lauded the opportunities of the school
for healthful activities. Then, since so many awards were to be made,
the business of presentations began.
Betty had only to call on each teacher who made the presentations, but
she kept her mind strictly on the order of the program, though
interrupted by receiving and acknowledging with smiles her own awards.
Hockey, riding, swimming, basketball, numeral and letters made trophies
for Betty, who disposed them near her as best she could.
The new officers for the next year were installed, another thing to have
done properly. But it was all going off promptly with no dragging, no
time wasted. What else should they learn in this big school except to
have everything go promptly, according to schedule? Lucia, happy with
both her father and her mother beside her, her guests at the banquet,
gave Betty a smiling look once in awhile. Count and Countess Coletti
were evidently very much interested in the whole affair, and the
dark-eyed, distinguished looking count took from Lucia the pin which was
the award of the riding club, to examine it smilingly and pass it on to
Mr. and Mrs. Lee, who sat near. The Murchisons, though urged to come by
Lucia, had another important engagement. The count and countess had
arrived from their travels just in time to attend.
Gwen’s father and mother were there, too, for was not Gwen receiving
recognition for her one year of excellent efforts? Carolyn, sweet old
Carolyn, had made the best speech of all, Betty thought. From certain
indications, Betty thought that it was most likely that Carolyn would be
named the honor girl. Yet not a word had any member of the committee
said to betray their secret, so far as Betty knew.
And tired, though relieved, when Betty called upon the chief athletic
director to make the announcement of the Lyon High Honor Girl, she was
almost past thinking at all. All that she had to do now was to announce
the speaker, who would offer the toast to that honor girl. Thank
fortune, it had all gone off without a hitch! Betty leaned back in her
chair and pinned below her flowers on her gay chiffon frock, new for the
occasion, the silver pin with its outlined horse jumping over a low
gate.
She saw Amy Lou smiling at her from beside her mother, and back among a
sophomore group was Doris. But she was all attention as the experienced
and charming director began to speak, saying what Betty knew to be true
that her class had offered an unusual number of girls prominent in
athletic events.
“It is too bad that there can be only one Honor Girl. However, I know
that you will all agree in regard to the qualifications of the one whom
we have selected. Fair and considerate, loyal to the school, striving
for excellence rather than to win over another, friendly, efficient,
dependable, always working toward high ideals, with an excellent record
in scholarship and athletics, with gifts in influence and leadership,
our young president, Betty Lee, is the one whom we name as Lyon High
Honor Girl!”
Betty had clasped her hands tightly together when the director had said
“our young president.” Now, prettily gowned, smiling assurance to Betty,
she was bending to her and giving her a hand to present her as Betty
rose, scarcely believing her eyes and ears.
Trying to collect herself, Betty listened while the director placed the
beautiful ring on Betty’s finger with a few more well-chosen and almost
affectionate words. And Betty must make some response—a speech that she
had not made up beforehand!
Betty’s voice trembled a little, as in a few words, which she could
never remember, she thanked the director and the society and sank into
her chair, apparently in command of herself, but really very much
shaken. She would not have believed that she could feel it so!
Fortunately, the director announced at once the name of the teacher who
was to give the toast to the Honor Girl, saving Betty the embarrassment
and “making it snappy,” as Doris said afterwards. This closed the
program and Carolyn, sitting so near Betty, was the first one to reach
her and hug her in congratulation.
“Oh, Carolyn, I was almost sure it would be you! You are ten times more
worthy of wearing this ring than I am!”
“No, Betty, and I’m honestly glad you have it.”
“It is just like you, Carolyn, and I’ll never be able to equal your
generous spirit in a thousand years!”
But others, teachers and pupils, were surrounding Betty now. Her parents
were also receiving congratulations and did not try to reach Betty for
some time. Countess Coletti, presently, was turning up Betty’s chin with
a light touch of her jeweled hand, to kiss her and threaten to carry her
off with Lucia to Switzerland for the summer. The count offered his
congratulations with dignity and stopped to talk with the principal on
American public schools.
It was late before the combined Lee family felt sleepy. Mrs. Lee came
into Betty’s room to say goodnight again to her honor girl, and found
Betty, half undressed but sitting on her bed “just thinking.”
They talked for a few moments, then Betty sprang up suddenly. “Mother,
this would be a good time to show you something. I have never said much
to you about Larry Waite, Marcella’s brother, and you have scarcely seen
him. Well, you did hear all about last summer, of course, and how nice
he was. But there is something special, Mother, and a letter that he
wrote me will explain it to you better than I can. You can understand,
can’t you, why I haven’t told you anything before? It was only the time
of Marcella’s party that I knew he cared.”
Startled, Mrs. Lee looked inquiringly at Betty; but the motherly smile
was ready for her “little girl.” “And are you—interested in him,
Betty?” she asked.
“No girl could help being interested, Mother. I’m—afraid I care a good
deal already. Here is the main letter, and that is a note written
before. He wrote me a letter and a note that never reached me.”
“Do you care if I take these to my room, Betty?”
“I’d much rather, Mother—but don’t let anything happen to them!” Betty
was smiling a little now. The moment had been a little awkward.
“I understand. And may I speak of it to Father? He’ll probably not want
to read the letters.”
“Say anything you want to Father, if he will keep it to himself, you
know. You see it is really not all fixed up.”
“Depend on me to manage it,” said Mrs. Lee, taking her daughter in her
arms for an especial good night, yet leaving the room with a frown of
anxiety. Betty was too young. But she turned to say, “Betty, I shall
make it a point to become acquainted with this young man. We shall
invite him around.” And Betty, selecting her “nightie” from a hook in
her closet, looked around the open closet door to say, “All right,
Mamma. Goodnight.”
The situation did not seem so distressing, however, after the letters
were read. There would be nothing immediate. Mrs. Lee smiled at more
than one point, but Betty could safely trust her letters to her mother.
She was not one to take humorously or lightly what was earnest in young
love. This seemed to be a sensible young man, carrying more
responsibility than most at his age, and sufficiently older than Betty.
She decided to tell Mr. Lee at some later date, when he was not so
tired. The lad was coming home, they would soon have an opportunity to
judge for themselves.
-----
Commencement was held in the school auditorium, though so many were the
demands for tickets that it had been considered taking the seniors to
one of the city’s larger platforms. That Betty was excited with all the
accompanying glories, is scarcely necessary to mention. Presents from
dear friends, little gifts exchanged with the girls, the new white
frock, flowers from “The Dorrances,” flowers also from “Arthur and
Archie,” the Penrose boys, gave Betty little ecstasies at different
times, when they arrived or were presented.
Larry Waite had written that he would be there. Betty saw to it that
there should be a ticket for him, and that she gave to Marcella, with
earnest adjurations that it should not be lost.
“Don’t worry, Betty,” said Marcella. “I’ll see that he gets it. It will
not go with the letter where the lost pins go!”
Marcella herself would be elsewhere. University affairs were more
“intriguing,” though she gave Betty a pretty remembrance and made the
remark that Betty was “already like a sister—sorority sister, of
course,” she explained with a merry look.
On what Mr. Lee called the fatal day, a great box of crimson roses was
delivered at the house. They were accompanied by Larry’s card, and his
roses should be the ones Betty carried, to be sure. Singing with the
rest of her class was the only duty left to be performed. The speaker,
the orchestra and organ, and the principal would do the rest. She could
carry all the roses she could hold and still receive her diploma, made
out to Elizabeth Virginia Lee, whose high school days would then be
over.
Music, roses, prettily dressed senior girls, dignified senior boys in
their best attire, a whole platform crowded with them—such was the
familiar scene in the school auditorium that happy night. It was the
formal, impressive exercise known as Commencement; and when it was over
Betty Lee carried a diploma, earned by many a sacrifice of ease, to
testify now to her hours of study and effort.
That and her roses, except a few that she wore, she put into the
parental hands, used to relieving their children of their burdens. And
Larry came around at once to claim her and to greet Betty’s parents,
with whom she waited for him. Betty was proud of his appearance and
manner, but that temporary satisfaction was swallowed up by the
excitement of her first real conversation with Larry, which impended.
Then and in the next few days there was plenty of opportunity to explain
everything. Even the lost letter had been found, sopping wet in the
pocket of Judd’s sweater, which had been thrown into a little launch
that the boys sometimes used in the harbor and rained upon. “I will mail
my own important letters after this,” said he. But he had dried the
letter and brought it to read with Betty such parts as were
decipherable.
Betty, whose talk with her mother had taken place soon after Mr. Lee had
read the letter from Larry, explained that her father and mother were
friendly but hoped that the “arrangement” would be an “understanding”
rather than an open engagement. “They think that we don’t know each
other well enough yet, Larry, and that I am too young, as you said. But
one thing I must say to you and that is that your troubles with the
business are not important to me, only as they make it hard for you.
Why, I can cook and keep house pretty well, and it would be much more
fun to live in just a little place with you—if we ever should be
married.”
This, to be sure, was after Larry had again gone over the points of his
letter. His repeated assurances of what he had told Betty in the Waite
library had been given at once on Betty’s graduation night, and Betty
had been asked for her confession, as well. They were both happy and
expectant.
They were sitting, during this conversation, on a hill overlooking one
of the most beautiful views in the city. Marcella and some of her
friends were having a picnic in the wooded park. Larry took Betty’s hand
and looked at the honor ring that she wore. “I suppose that it must be
just an understanding now,” said he. “But perhaps by your birthday they
may let you wear a ring for me. Not for nothing did I look over your
shoulder into that Hallowe’en mirror, Betty—you—sweetheart!”
Meanwhile, Mrs. Lee, gathering up various articles at home, was carrying
Betty’s diploma into her room. There, on Betty’s table, cleared for the
purpose, were her trophies. The year book, which Betty had helped
compile, adorned one corner. It contained, with much else, serious and
otherwise, the pictures of the faculty, of Betty’s school-mates and of
Betty herself, with the list of her clubs and activities during the four
years. On this were a few copies of the _Roar_, for Betty, too, had been
written up among the prominent seniors.
Here were Betty’s gifts, her chevrons, a medal, the little gold pin from
Miss Heath, with its Latin motto, “_Ad Astra_,” the Girl Reserve ring,
the long-worn senior pin, more prizes, all Betty’s cherished senior
trophies. For a moment Mrs. Lee stood looking at them. Then, smiling, on
top of the array, she laid Betty’s diploma.