The rest of the week went by in pleasant anticipation of the garden
party, Betty’s first. To be sure there had been “loads of picnics,” and
lawn fetes for the church, usually in the spring or early summer. But a
real “garden party” _must_ be different. There was much consultation
about clothes between Betty and her mother. One of the girls had said
that of course one wouldn’t wear her _old_ clothes, or her Girl Scout or
Camp Fire Girl suits, as you would on a picnic to the woods. _She_ was
going to play tennis, and her mother had gotten her an “_awfully
pretty_” white sport suit!
Well, what _was_ a sport suit anyhow? Mrs. Lee took Amy Lou down town,
one morning when Mr. Lee could drive them down, and spent a rather
trying morning trying to shop with a child. She looked at dresses and
patterns, with a view of fitting Betty suitably for the occasion. But
the new things were expensive. Finally, by letting down a skirt Betty
had and arranging a suitable blouse, or upper part, what Betty called a
“near‐sport” frock was evolved.
Then, after all the effort, Betty came home one afternoon with a new
idea. “Mother, it’s turned so awfully hot–Indian summer, I suppose–that
Peggy says she isn’t going to play tennis or anything on a court, and
she’s going to wear her light green flat crepe that is her second best,
or else some real cool summer dress, whatever happens to be ready. Peggy
doesn’t care! I believe I’ll just wear my pretty thin blue and let it go
at that. I don’t want to play tennis either, especially when I don’t
know anybody much and not so very many can play. Carolyn says she’s
going to pay all her social debts at once and have a big party, so I’ll
be lost in the multitude.”
Like Janet, Mrs. Lee privately thought that Betty would never be “lost
in the multitude,” but she did not say so. “So Carolyn is paying all her
‘social debts,’ is she?” asked Betty’s mother, amused at the “social
debts” expression. “It is just as well that you have decided on the
blue. It will look pretty in the gardens and _I’d_ dress for the flowers
instead of the tennis court.”
“Aren’t you poetic, Mother! It’s a shame that you went to all the
trouble about the other dress, though.”
“That will be so much clear gain, child. You now have another frock,
which will come in for service at some time, no doubt.”
When the day and the hour arrived, Betty’s father arrived home late for
lunch, as he could do on Saturday, unless there were some executive
meeting. That settled the question of how to get to the party, and Betty
called up two of her friends to say that her father was going to take
her and that she would stop for them if they liked. Naturally they were
glad of the opportunity, for the Gwynne estate was out at some distance,
_almost_ a “country estate,” Peggy had said. “Call up,” said Betty’s
father, “when you want to come home, or rather, when I should start from
home in time to reach you. We’ll take note of the time we spend getting
there. Then I’ll bring a machine full of whomever you like.”
“Oh, that is so good of you, Mr. Lee!” exclaimed Dotty Bradshaw, one of
the freshman girls whom Betty had invited to ride with them. “But
perhaps Betty will want somebody else, though,” added Dotty, happening
to think that perhaps she was taking too much, for granted.
“Why, Dotty, of _course_ if we call for you we’ll see you back home.
We’re sort of new to the city, though, so perhaps you can tell me who
live places that wouldn’t be too far away.”
“Most anybody that attends our high school would be all right,” answered
Dotty, “because girls that live in other parts of town would go to other
high schools.”
“Of course! I didn’t think!”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Selma Rardon, the other freshman
in the car. “There are sometimes people way out, like Carolyn herself.”
Betty was already assured by the very different dresses of the girls
with her, and when she arrived at the beautiful place where Carolyn
lived she thought how silly she had been to worry about clothes. Still,
you wanted to be suitably dressed, and when you knew hardly anybody,
there was some excuse. And oh, there _were_ boys, too. She saw a number
of lads whose faces she knew by having seen them in the different
freshman classes. Then there were others whom she did not know at all.
By the time Betty and her friends turned into the drive which led to the
house, most of the boys and girls had arrived, it seemed and were dotted
in groups all over the closely clipped lawn which still looked like
velvet between its flower beds and shrubbery. Oh, wasn’t it beautiful?
Betty was so glad that her father could see where the party was.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming at all, Betty,” said Carolyn, squeezing
Betty’s hands, “but there are still a few that haven’t gotten here.”
“I waited for Father to bring us,” replied Betty, “and we didn’t quite
know how long it would take to drive out.”
“Well, you’re here now and I’m going to ask Peggy to see that you meet
everybody. I’ll have to be darting here and there and everywhere to see
that they all have something to do.”
Carolyn looked so pretty, Betty thought, and she wore the simplest of
summer dresses, to all appearances, though the material was fine and
sheer, a sort of chiffon, Betty thought; for Betty was just becoming
aware of styles and materials, matters which she had left to her mother,
and most wisely.
There was the usual tendency of the girls and boys to separate into
groups of boys and groups of girls, but Carolyn had announced that first
they would stroll to see the flowers and go to the pool and the
greenhouse and that each boy must join some girls, not necessarily _one_
girl. In consequence the groups were mixed by the time Betty and her
friends began their stroll around the grounds and Peggy took Betty into
the midst of one. Dotty Bradshaw accompanied them, though Selma had been
drawn away by one of her special friends. Dotty was “cute,” Peggy said.
Here were Mary Emma Howland and Mary Jane Andrews, the two Marys of
Betty’s algebra class. Then Chet Dorrance, whom Betty afterward found to
be Ted’s brother, was feeding the goldfishes in the lovely pool from a
box of something held by Kathryn Allen. Budd LeRoy perched on the stone
arm of a seat that curved artistically in grey lines, back a little from
the pool, and talked spasmodically to Chauncey Allen, Kathryn’s brother,
and Brad Warren. Budd, Chauncey and Bradford were not freshmen, Betty
thought, but she wasn’t sure. Who _could_ be sure about all the freshmen
there were? Chet Dorrance looked a good deal like his brother, though
his hair was lighter and Betty decided that he didn’t look quite so
smart, but not many of the boys could touch Ted for looks.
The boys all wore coats, though she knew that some of them, at least,
would have felt more comfortable without them, as she had seen them
Friday at school. Later on, however, when games and sports began, many a
coat was to be found hung on the back of a garden bench or over the
slats of a trellis. Carolyn may have given the word. Betty did not know.
She usually kept her eye out for what boys did, on account of Dick,
whose social etiquette she helped superintend, little as she knew
herself. Between three and four o’clock it was very warm indeed. Later
it began to cool off and seem like early October.
“Isn’t this the loveliest place?” she said to Chauncey Allen, by way of
making conversation. After introducing Chauncey to Betty, Peggy had
darted off to start Budd and Bradford in tennis, about which they had
inquired. Chet Dorrance and Kathryn Allen had finished feeding the
goldfish and sauntered to the big stone seat, where Chauncey suggested
that he and Betty also sit. Kathryn was a pretty, slight little girl
with an olive complexion, very black hair and dark eyes. Chauncey was as
dark in his coloring but was of a much larger build.
“Pretty nice,” replied Chauncey. “They’ve got fine gardens and a good
tennis court, that much is certain; but their house is pretty old.”
“But it looks so–distinguished,” said Betty. “Those big pillars and the
wide porch and the drive with that sort of porch built over it–I never
can remember the name for it.”
“You can’t prove it by me,” grinned Chauncey. “I don’t know either,
although we have one. Yes, the Gwynne place is considered a fine old
estate, so my dad says. Mother says she wouldn’t have it for it isn’t
modern enough to suit her. She doesn’t like high ceilings and great
rooms that are hard to heat in winter.”
“Oh, I _love_ them,” cried Betty, “though maybe it’s because I never
have to bother about furnaces and things like that. I’d just love to
have a great house and big grounds like this.”
“Where do you live?” asked Chauncey.
“In an apartment. My father’s just come to the city this fall and we
took the best place Mother could find. We still have a home in my home
town, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever go back there to stay.”
“Would you like to?”
Betty shook her head negatively. “I’m thrilled to death to be in our big
high school!”
Chauncey grinned pleasantly. “It is pretty good,” he acknowledged, “but
I hate to study sometimes. I hope football will go all right for our
team this year. There’s one of the big high schools that is our greatest
rival, and O, boy–if we don’t beat them this year!”
Betty had not heard about that, but she loyally echoed Chauncey’s wish.
“How about going up to the house for that fruitade Carolyn said would be
ready pretty soon?” asked Chauncey, including the group, for two other
girls had come up to the pool and were now joining Kathryn and Chet.
The suggestion was promptly acted upon and Betty now found herself
walking between tall pampas grass and well trimmed bushes of all sorts
along a path to the house and talking to Chet Dorrance, who asked her if
she had bought her season ticket for football yet.
“No, I haven’t. Are you selling them?”
“No, but Ted is.”
“I’m awfully sorry, but Carolyn told me that if I hadn’t promised, one
of the girls wanted to sell me one, so I promised.”
“Oh, that’s all right. It was probably one of the girls on a pep squad.”
“What’s a pep squad?” laughed Betty. “That must be one of the things
that I haven’t heard about yet.”
“You’ll hear a lot about it, then. Why, they have them in the G. A. A.,
girls that talk it all up and make ‘enthusiasm’ and support the
athletics, you know.”
“What is the G. A. A., please? I must be terribly dense, but remember
all the things I’ve tried to take in. You’re not a freshman, are you?”
“Why, no–what makes you think that?” Chet was privately thinking that
there must be something after all in experience, though as he was no
larger than a very dear freshman friend, who had been left a little
behind in the race for high school, he had been “insulted” more than
once by being considered a freshman.
“Well, I did think that you were one, since your brother is a
junior”–Betty had almost said that he looked so much younger than Ted
the tall, but she halted in time. “But you seem to know all about
everything, and even the freshies who live here don’t always remember
everything.”
“I could get all that from hearing Ted talk, you know; but of course,
there isn’t much about the school that I haven’t _heard_ about–I
wouldn’t say _know_, of course.”
“It must be nice,” said Betty, thereupon pleasing her escort, who
immediately began to enlighten her upon the workings of the athletic
association and the girls’ share in it. The G. A. A. was the Girls’
Athletic Association.
“Oh, yes! Of course. I hear them call it a _club_. I’ve even had it
explained to me–but not the pep squads. I only wish I had time for
everything!”
“You don’t have to do everything your freshman year, Betty.”
“That is what Father said–so I’m not. But that doesn’t keep you from
wanting to do things.”
“You’re right it doesn’t!” Chet was thinking of several things that he
had wanted to do and still wanted.
A great glass bowl just inside the screened porch on the side of the
house away from the sun, supplied a cool drink of oranges and lemons,
whose slices floated about pieces of ice. A maid in cap and apron served
them and fished out a whole red cherry to put in Betty’s glass. And
didn’t it taste good!
Then, in the shifting of position and accidental meetings of this one
and that one, Betty found herself with Mary Emma Howland and another
freshman boy whom she recognized as the brightest lad in the algebra
class. “Oh, yes,” she said, in answer to Mary Emma’s question whether or
not she knew “Sim,” and brightly she smiled at him.
“We never were introduced,” said Betty, “but when you recite every day
together you can’t help but know people, and whenever Mr. Matthews calls
on ‘James Simmonds’ he looks as if he expected to have a recitation.”
“There, Sim!” laughed Mary Emma. “I told you you were the teacher’s
pet!”
“Much I am!” and James Simmonds looked as if he did not appreciate being
complimented, even by two merry girls. He was a tall, thin boy, with
light, sandy hair, thin face and light eyes, but eyes that were keen
with intelligence when they did not twinkle with mischief. “And I’m
usually called ‘Simmonds’ by the men teachers.”
“So you are,” acknowledged Betty. “But I didn’t know they called you
‘Sim’–I thought it was ‘Jim.’”
“I’m generally known as Sim,” said the boy, “but sometimes it’s ‘Jim’,
or ‘Carrotts.’”
Sim exchanged a look with Mary Emma, who giggled. “Sim’s my fourth or
fifth cousin,” Mary Emma explained. “He lives at our house to go to
school while his father and mother are away this year.”
As Betty looked inquiringly at Sim, he explained that his father was an
engineer and was in South America with his mother for the year. “I’m
going there some day,” said he. “Say, they have mosquitoes and snakes
and all sorts of queer things, and there are some man‐eaters down there,
cannibals, you know–oh, it’s a wild country all right!”
“That doesn’t sound so very good to me,” smiled Betty. “Do you really
want to go where there are snakes and things like that!”
“Certainly! Mary Emma you bring Betty Lee out some time and I’ll show
her the things they’ve sent us.”
“We really have some beautiful things from South America, Betty,” said
Mary Emma, and Betty was thinking how interesting it would be to see
them. My, she was getting acquainted fast! But just as Mary Emma was
beginning to tell her about a handsome purse that had come for her
mother, Peggy came running out of the house door and stopped before the
porch bench upon which the three were seated. Peggy was wearing
something funny on her head and carried something, a straight piece of
pasteboard, in her hand. Large black letters said something or other.
“Oh, here you are, Betty. I was looking for you. Carolyn wants you to be
one of the social engineers. We’re going to have games for everybody on
the lawn now and you’ll have to help. Come on! ’Scuse Betty, please,
Mary Emma–and Sim.”
Betty rose to follow Peggy inside. There were several girls, all
adjusting these pasteboard caps or hats, that looked like short
stove‐pipes. Carolyn was apologizing, though Betty thought the idea
clever. “I didn’t have time, girls, to make caps, anything pretty, you
know, and I went to a picnic where they had these. They looked cute and
I thought they’d do.”
“Of course they’ll do,” said Peggy, adjusting the cap to Betty’s head,
merely by wrapping the two ends about and fastening them, top and
bottom, with ordinary clips. So that was what the big black letters on
the plain gray pasteboard said, “SOCIAL ENGINEER.”
“But Carolyn,” protested Betty, “I don’t know everybody and how can I be
a ‘social engineer’? I suppose you’re going to have games to manage?”
“That’s it, and it doesn’t make a bit of difference whether you know
people or not. Your head‐gear makes it perfectly proper to speak to
anybody. I’m sure you’re good at things like this–from your looks, you
know!”
“Thanks for the confidence,” laughed Betty. “All right, I’ll do the best
I can.”
For the next hour the lawn looked pretty with the groups that played the
old‐fashioned games as well as those of a later date. Here were flowers
and shrubbery, light dresses, darting figures, much laughter and little
shrieks in the midst of excitement, when some one was caught or some one
became “It.” Then tables were brought out upon the lawn. Carolyn and
Peggy pressed several of the boys into service to help place them, but
after they were set, with silver, napkins and flowers, a pretty vase in
the center of each table, the “banquet,” as Betty later reported at
home, was served them as perfectly “as if they were grown up” by persons
whom Betty supposed to be the servants of the house. Mercy, she would
never dare invite Carolyn to their apartment! And she did _love_
Carolyn!
Not that Betty was ashamed of simple living–Betty was trying to think
why she had such a thought about Carolyn–but that could be puzzled out
later on. The present was too pleasant for a single disturbing thought.
It was cool now and seemed more like the time of year it really was.
Sunset hues were showing. And they were to stay till the Japanese
lanterns all about were lit, with some hiding game or treasure hunt that
Carolyn had mentioned to the “social engineers” as their last effort and
fun. And now, after the pretty ice‐cream in the freshman colors and the
delicious cake with the double frosting, lovely baskets of grapes and
peaches were being passed.
Betty slowly ate the juicy grapes of her bunch, one by one, as she
talked to Peggy on one side of her, or Chet Dorrance on the other. One
of the junior boys had been “fired,” according to Chet, for “cutting
classes, disorderly conduct and disrespectful behaviour.” Oh, no, he
couldn’t come back now. His parents had been over to see the principal
and they might get the “kid” into some other school–Chet did not know.
And Betty was to watch Freddy Fisher carry the ball at the first
football game in the stadium. “If you go with Carolyn and Peggy,” said
he, “they’ll tell you who everybody is that’s doing things. You’ve seen
’em all, though, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I’ll know them on the field. I guess I am going
with Carolyn and Peggy.”
“Of course you are,” decidedly remarked Peggy, who had turned from her
other neighbor in time to hear Betty’s last sentence. “What is it you’re
going to?”