BETTY LEE, FRESHMAN
By
HARRIET PYNE GROVE
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THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
Cleveland, Ohio –– New York City
Copyright, 1931
by
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
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_Printed in the United States of America_
Table of Contents
· CHAPTER I: BETTY LEE’S MOST MOVING ADVENTURE
· CHAPTER II: BETTY MEETS RESPONSIBILITY AND A TRIAL OF PATIENCE
· CHAPTER III: “THE FATEFUL DAY”
· CHAPTER IV: A REAL FRESHMAN AT LAST
· CHAPTER V: JANET HEARS FROM BETTY
· CHAPTER VI: FRIENDS AND FUN
· CHAPTER VII: CAROLYN’S GARDEN PARTY
· CHAPTER VIII: BETTY HEARS THE LIONS ROAR
· CHAPTER IX: SHOWING OFF LYON HIGH
· CHAPTER X: MORE FESTIVITIES
· CHAPTER XI: THE “SURPRISE” PARTY
· CHAPTER XII: A CHANGE OF PLAN
· CHAPTER XIII: BETTY MEETS TROUBLE
· CHAPTER XIV: SENT TO THE PRINCIPAL
· CHAPTER XV: DETECTIVE WORK
· CHAPTER XVI: SOME FRESHMAN CONCLUSIONS
· CHAPTER XVII: SPRING AT LYON HIGH
CHAPTER I: BETTY LEE’S MOST MOVING ADVENTURE
Betty Lee, aged almost fourteen, was dressing for travel. She both
dreaded and anticipated the day and smiled at her reflection in the
mirror as it looked at her with eyes as bright as stars, cheeks pink
from excitement and lips a little apart. That _was_ a pretty and
becoming suit, “ducky,” her chum had called it. Now for the new hat, to
be put on over short, sunny, wavy locks that didn’t have to have
anything done to them to make them so. That again was what Janet Light
said, pretending to be envious.
Betty’s hands trembled a little as she adjusted the hat. She could not
help hurrying, though her aunt, Mrs. Royce, had told her to take her
time now. “Don’t get all fussed and excited before you start,” Aunt Jo
had said.
The twins, Dick and Doris, aged twelve, were already downstairs eating
breakfast. Betty had helped Dick with his tie and rounded up several
articles for Doris before she could finish her own toilet, but it was a
comfort to be alone for a little.
From the bathroom came the sounds of splashing and the merry laugh of
Amy Louise, the little four‐year‐old. With the promise of “going to see
Mamma,” Amy Lou would let anybody do anything this morning, though she
had been insisting upon Betty’s dressing her as a rule, in this trying
interim.
The cause of all this early morning excitement was that Betty Lee’s
family was moving from the home and town in which they had lived ever
since Betty could remember. A new home was being established in the city
where an unexpected business opportunity had developed for her father.
Mrs. Lee had hurried to join her husband as soon as the goods were ready
to be moved by truck. She must give the final word about such locations
as Mr. Lee was able to find. With breath‐taking swiftness, it seemed to
Betty, her old home had been stripped of its furniture and seemed like a
different place. Temporary headquarters were made with Aunt Jo Royce,
Mr. Lee’s sister, and at her home the children were staying in the
absence of their mother.
But word had come by telegram. Mrs. Royce could not accompany them to
the city. It was Betty’s responsibility to manage the most important
transfer of all, that of the Lee children; and it loomed rather large to
her, as she managed to swallow the soft‐boiled egg, all fixed for her by
Lucy Baxter, who lived with her aunt. But she wished that Lucy would not
say again what she had said more than once already, with a mournful air.
“It’s _just as well_ that your house ain’t sold yet, I say. Cities don’t
always pan out, as I’ve told your ma. You remember when Mel Haswell went
to Noo York, how quick he come back, don’t you?”
“Yes, Lucy,” Betty replied pleasantly, though she wished again that Lucy
would not always appeal to somebody for the truth of her remarks. You
had to say something. That was expected of you. As if her father were
anything like Mel Haswell!
But Lucy’s cup of cocoa was just right and the toast was golden. Betty
felt ashamed of her annoyance and told Lucy that she was a dear to get
them such a good breakfast at that unearthly hour. “I ’spect we’ll be
back in Buxton many times, Lucy. You may get tired of us.” Hurriedly she
finished her breakfast, saying that she had “promised to stop for the
girls;” and with rapid steps she ran upstairs again, to gather up her
coat, umbrella and pocketbook, and to see if the last articles were
packed.
“Run along, Betty,” said Aunt Jo, as Betty ran in to see if she were
needed. “We’ll bring the luggage. Amy Lou was such a good girl and is
almost ready. See, sister, I’m putting on the dress she likes best!”
This was for the benefit of Amy Louise, who might insist on accompanying
Betty unless diverted.
“Ought I?” asked Betty, hesitating. She did not want her aunt to have it
too hard at the last. But Amy Lou was having the dress put over her head
and it was a good time to vanish. Vanish Betty did at a nod from her
aunt. Stopping to say goodbye to Lucy, and seeing that Dick and Doris
were out for a farewell to Aunt Jo’s private menagerie of a few chickens
and two handsome dogs, Betty ran out of the front door to the street.
People at Buxton rose early. Milk bottles were being taken in and screen
doors were opening or closing; but Betty met no one, as she sped toward
Janet’s home, except a boy driving an old grocery wagon. Somebody might
want something for breakfast. Bill was on his way to open up and start
things at the store.
The faithful old horse was pulled up suddenly. “Hello, Betty, going to
leave this morning?”
Betty halted, though still moving slowly. “Yes; the rest of us are going
on the morning train, Bill.” She smiled up at the big lad, who was a
junior in high school. Betty did not know him very well, though to be
sure all the high school and grade pupils knew each other and each
other’s families more or less.
“Sorry you’re going, Betty. I s’pose you’re in a hurry, though. So long,
Betty. Don’t forget the old town.” Bill started the horse with a flap of
the reins as he spoke.
“Never,” returned Betty, nodding a farewell and hurrying on. Was she
really going to leave–forever? She looked down the quiet street ahead of
her. Trees beautiful and green allowed their branches to meet over the
unpaved road. Homes with large yards displayed trees, shrubbery and
flowers, though so late for many of them. It was all so familiar that
she had forgotten how it did look!
Betty almost felt like taking a turn around the block for a last look at
their own home; but she thought of the curtainless windows, the desolate
yard and the empty swing under the elm trees. No, thank you! Betty
sniffed and fumbled in her pocketbook for a handkerchief. Was she going
to cry now? Not a bit of it! She had to keep up before the girls.
Bounding a corner, there she was at Janet’s. Janet had cried last night.
It wasn’t real. She was in a dream!
And Betty had had her dreams, like all girls of her age. The little town
of Buxton was not a rich one. It was not even in a good farming center,
nor was it a county seat. Two good school buildings and some churches
were its chief ornaments, architecturally. Among the people, as always,
there were the good element and the bad or shiftless element. Yet some
very fine people had found a home there and among them were the friends
of Betty Lee’s family. It was quiet. It was fairly safe. Betty,
protected by the oversight of a sensible yet idealistic mother, was a
happy girl, interested in everything and ambitious in school, whose
activities were always prominent and whose teachers held the respect of
the community. Betty would probably marry one of the boys some day, as
she had seen older girls do, and settle down. Perhaps she could go away
to school for a year or two. If she couldn’t, there were always books
and music and friends, nice things to do and dear people to love. Vague
thoughts like this about the future were in her mind when she thought
about it at all. Her father and mother were her standards of excellence;
and therein lay much safety, since those two were wise and
self‐controlled.
And now, so unexpectedly, there was this bewildering change to city
life. It was exciting to think about it and yet Betty could not foresee
the changes it was going to make in her whole adventure of living. For
in the new and in many ways very superior school to which she was going,
new friends, with work, play, perplexity, even mystery, perhaps, and a
wider choice of opportunity waited for this wholesome, attractive Betty
Lee. To say the least, life was not going to be dull, and this Betty
felt.
“No, there’s something about Betty Lee.” Janet Light was saying to Sue
Miller. “I don’t believe that she ‘will be lost in the multitude,’ as
she says. Her teachers will _notice_ her at least. I’d pick Betty out in
a thousand!”
“Oh, that’s natural. You’re her chum. But isn’t she sort of scared to go
to such a big school?”
“No, I don’t think Betty’s scared. Of course–you know Betty. She
wouldn’t want to show it if she were. I think that she’s really crazy
about going; but you can imagine how she’d feel, dread it a little. I
only wish I could go–that is, if I could take everybody along!”
“Yes. It’s wonderful even to travel to a city; but to live there!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” remarked Janet, taking a new tack. “You couldn’t get
into the country so much.”
“You could if you had a car.”
“If is a big word, Sue. Betty said her father had to have something
different from the old machine now, but he’ll be in business most of the
time.”
The two girls were sitting on the Light porch, waiting for Betty and
talking as fast as girls can when there is some interesting subject. To
Janet the departure of her dearest chum was more or less upsetting. Sue
was not so intimate and Betty had never had any suspicion of the
admiration with which Sue regarded her. She was really surprised that
Sue wanted to see her off, with Janet.
“It’s pretty cool this morning,” Sue inserted, throwing her light coat
around her shoulders. “I nearly melted yesterday when I came on the
train from Grandma’s. But it wasn’t much of a ride.” Sue was thinking
that her little trip was nothing in comparison with Betty’s coming day
of travel.
“It was that big rain and the wind yesterday that changed things. I was
over with Betty till late because it rained so hard all evening. That’s
why I could hardly wake up this morning. It’s a good thing you were to
stop for me, for Mother didn’t call me. She forgot.”
“I just _happened_ to telephone you before I started, thought maybe
you’d rather go down to Mrs. Royce’s.”
“Lucky you did. But no, I thought there would be so much confusion with
everybody hurrying perhaps, and Betty said she would be sure to stop.
It’s right on the way to the station anyhow.” With this, Janet ran in
for the second time, to see if it were getting anywhere near train time.
“No, there’s loads of time,” she reported.
“The rain was why I didn’t get to see Betty at all,” Sue explained. “I
had a headache and lay down after I came home; and at supper–at
_supper_, mind you, Mother _happened to tell me_ about how the Lees were
moving to the city! It had all gone on while I was at Grandma’s and
nobody ever told me a word! Of course, I wasn’t writing to anybody, not
even Mother but once. She and Grandma exchange letters every week,
though.”
“It was in the paper and I suppose everybody thought you knew. Betty was
in too much of a whirl. Her mother’s only written cards, and just a
telegram came, saying which train they were to take. Betty does not even
know the address of where she’s going!”
“How could the goods go down, then? Somebody had to know.”
“I think the truckman was to telephone the boarding house or office or
some place after he reached the city, to find out where to take the
goods.”
“I should think that Mrs. Lee would have wanted Betty to help get
settled.”
“She was going to hire some one to put it through, in a hurry. Besides,
Mrs. Royce couldn’t manage Amy Louise without Betty. As it was, she made
a dreadful fuss.”
“I suppose so. But Betty spoils her, too.”
“Not so much. When Betty says, ‘Amy Louise Lee’, in that way of hers.
Amy Lou pays attention.”
“How old is Betty anyway?”
“She’ll be fourteen in December. Don’t you remember her birthday party
last year?”
“That’s so. Oh, here’s Betty! ’Lo there, Betty Lee!”
Sue ran down to meet Betty, who walked briskly around the corner and to
the open gate; for Janet’s home, like Betty’s, actually had a fence!
With a little squeeze and kiss, Sue led Betty to the porch, where Janet,
smiling, waited. “I would have felt awful, Betty,” cried Sue, “not to
have had a glimpse of you! I never knew a word about it.”
“It was a shame, Sue; but you can just imagine how it’s been. I haven’t
known whether I was on my head or my feet.”
“Of course. What a pretty suit you have, all blue, your color, Betty,
and hat to match and everything–even gloves, Janet!”
Betty laughed at that. “I’ll probably not have them on much, with Amy
Lou to take care of. I’m glad you like my things. Auntie drove me clear
to Columbus to shop. You see I’ve had to get ready for school, too, for
it begins almost as soon as I get there. Won’t it be terrible to learn
what street cars to take and everything, unless Father can drive me to
school?”
“Aren’t you awfully excited, Betty?”
“I suppose I am. But all I can think of right now is getting through
this trip with Amy Lou. She never was on a train before, if she is four
years old; so I don’t know what she will do. But I’m hoping that she
will be shy, the way she is when strangers are around, and she may sleep
since we’ve been up so early. I think we’d better walk along, girls.
I’ll go in and say goodbye to the folks, Janet.”
Betty was in the house a few minutes only. Then they strolled toward the
little railroad station, only a short distance of a few blocks. Several
people came along, to see Betty and stop, shaking hands and saying
goodbye. Ahead of them walked Aunt Jo with the littlest Lee, while Doris
was accompanied by three girls of about her own age, and a
freckled‐faced boy scampered on in advance, with Dick. “I wondered what
had become of Billy,” said Janet, recognizing her brother.
Soon they stood in partly separated groups on the small platform. Amy
Lou started back after the cat, but was rescued in time by her aunt’s
restraining hand. To permit Betty and the other children last words with
their friend, capable Aunt Jo walked up and down now with the child,
showing her what little there was to see and making up a story about the
rails. Distracted as Betty was, she kept in mind a picture of these last
details.
“Oh, dear, Betty,” said Sue, as train time drew near at hand, “you are
not going to forget us, are you?”
“Forget you–I should say not! Forget the girls I’ve been with since the
first grade in school!” Betty held out a warm hand to each, as they
stood closely now. She and Janet exchanged a smiling look. They had been
all over that phase the night before.
“But it can never be the same,” mourned Sue.
“Maybe it will be better!” brightly suggested Betty. “You’ll both come
down to visit me in vacations and I’ll take you all around–that is, if I
ever learn to get around everywhere myself.”
“That would be wonderful–if it could happen. Maybe I wouldn’t be allowed
to go, though.”
“Oh, yes! We get older every year, you know.”
Sue looked doubtful. Money was scarce in Sue’s home. It did not roll in
at the village store which her father kept.
“Brace up, Susie,” laughingly said Janet. “We must send Betty off with
nothing but good wishes. Let’s not begin to mourn now. That’s what
Mother told me last night, and I pass it on to you.”
“All right, Janet. You’re right. Good luck and a grand time, Betty.
Mercy! There’s the train tooting now and I haven’t said goodbye to the
rest!”
Betty made a dash for Amy Louise, to hold her hand firmly. Last goodbyes
were said. Dick and Doris gathered up the bags while the train rounded
the curve at a little distance. The freckled lad soberly regarded Dick
as he said, “Well, so long, Dick. So long, Doris;” and Doris was being
embraced by the excited little girls, who followed the travelers and
tried not to get in the way of various small trucks.
“Help Betty all you can, Dick,” advised Mrs. Royce, handing an extra
piece of baggage up to Dick, who was last to board the train. “Remember
that I shall want a card mailed at once to make sure of your safety. If
anything goes wrong, send a telegram.”
Dick, grinning, feeling not a little important with his manly duties,
nodded and disappeared after his sisters. The group on the platform,
watching the windows, were presently rewarded by seeing smiling faces.
Dick was trying to put up a window, but without success; or possibly the
others were too impatient to wait for him to find out how to do it.
Amy Louise, her light hair and childish face framed in a hat that was
now pushed back in the effort to see, smiled and threw kisses. She had
no regrets. She was on her way to her mother. Betty’s face looked
brightly out above Amy Louise, and there were Doris and Dick, the
blessed twins! Aunt Jo tried not to show the anxiety she felt. But Betty
would see it through!
There went the clanging bell. Now the train started. Now they were gone;
and the small group on the platform turned away with that odd, lost
feeling that comes when something is over.
The freckle‐faced lad scampered away alone. Mrs. Royce, after exchanging
pleasant words with the girls, hurried homeward with her thoughts. The
rest scattered. School was opening for them, too. There would be plenty
of activities to take up their time and interest. Janet and Sue would
report to the other girls how they saw Betty Lee off that early morning.
And they all would laugh over one quoted speech of Betty’s when she
said, “I imagine, girls, that this is my most _moving_ adventure!”