Betty Lee, Sophomore

By

HARRIET PYNE GROVE

THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

Cleveland, Ohio —— New York City

Copyright, 1931

by

THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

Printed in the United States of America

CHAPTER I: “GYPSY”

“Why, Kathryn, I think you’re awfully pretty!” Betty Lee exclaimed in some surprise. “And I’m not saying that just to console you, either. Why, the idea!”

“Well, Betty, you needn’t go that far. I don’t have to be pretty to be happy, you know; but it did hurt to have her tell me that Peggy said it.”

“In the first place, Kathryn, I don’t believe Peggy ever said it. You know what people say goes with their characters. And Peggy isn’t like that.”

“N-no,” replied Kathryn, doubtfully. “Peggy has always seemed to like me.”

“I think that it was just a hateful twisting of something Peggy did say, or maybe it was just made up. What sort of a girl is this Mathilde Finn anyway? And how is it that I haven’t met her if she goes to Lyon High?”

“Oh, she was out last year, at a private school, but she is coming back. They have plenty of money and Mathilde thinks that she is everybody, you know. She was abroad this summer and was somewhere with Peggy last week. They came back earlier than they intended. Somebody was sick. The girls used to call her ‘Finny’ and I imagine that she will hear the same nickname this year, though she hates it.”

Betty laughed. “If she only knew it, she’s given you a pretty nice nickname at that. Why shouldn’t you like to be called Gypsy? Why, Kathryn, I know a perfectly darling girl, only a grown-up one, that everybody calls Gypsy; and she likes it and signs her letters Gypsy!”

Kathryn shook her head. “To be told that I looked like a horrid old gypsy!”

“You couldn’t look horrid if you tried, Kitten. I’ve seen you this summer in your worst old clothes, haven’t I now?”

“You certainly have,” laughed Kathryn, her black eyes sparkling and her vivid face all alive amusement at the thought of some of the performances in which she and Betty had taken part.

“And do you remember that week when Cousin Lil was here and you did dress up as a gypsy in your attic?”

Kathryn nodded.

“I always meant to tell you that you made the prettiest gypsy in the world, the nice, romantic Romany kind, you know, with a handsome lover and everything as spuzzy as gypsies could have.”

“You’re the kind of a friend to have, Betty Lee,” laughingly Kathryn remarked; “but I always wanted to have golden hair, like yours, and be a goddess-like creature, all pink and white.”

“Isn’t it funny—and ever since I read a story about a beautiful creature with black, black hair and flashy dark eyes—I longed to look like that, so entrancingly fascinating!”

“Probably that is the way girls are, want to look like something else. Well, I don’t know that I’d mind being called Gypsy. It is a cute nickname. Oh, did you know that Carolyn is coming back today or tomorrow?”

“Gypsy”—and Betty looked wickedly at Kathryn as she used the term. “Gypsy,” Betty repeated, “I have had just one letter from Carolyn all this summer. I answered it and wrote pages; but not one word more have I had. If you have had a late letter I’m terribly jealous.”

“Good!” returned Kathryn. Then her face grew a little sober. “No, Betty, I’ve not heard from Carolyn either, except a card at the first of the summer. But I may as well confess one more secret. I’ve been telling you everything I know all summer, you know.”

At this point a slender brown hand and slim brown arm reached over after Betty’s almost equally tanned head. “It’s this and I’m ashamed of it, too. I’ve been worrying for fear when Carolyn comes we can’t be such friends as we have been this summer.”

“Why not, Kathryn Allen!” Betty squeezed the hand which had slipped inside of her grasp and sat a little closer on the step of the porch. “Is that why you said ‘good,’ when I said I’d be jealous?”

“Yes. Because I’m jealous myself.”

“Jealousy is a very bad—um—quality.”

“Yes; I know it. But I do hate to have you like Carolyn best!”

As Betty looked now seriously into Kathryn’s face so near her, she saw that Kathryn was in earnest and that tears were springing into her eyes. “Why, Kitty!” she exclaimed softly. “I didn’t know you liked me as much as that. I’m rather glad to know it, though it’s very silly, ’cause I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are, Betty Lee. I’m not an old silly softy, Betty. You know that. I don’t go around having crushes and all that. But I like to be with you. And when Carolyn comes—” Kathryn could not finish her sentence.

Betty’s arm was around Kathryn now. “Listen, Kathryn—I’m glad you told me this, because if you hadn’t and had gone on and felt bad, when there wasn’t any need of it, it would have been horrid. But you know I do like Carolyn a lot, and will you feel bad if I show it? That would make it pretty hard for me, too. There isn’t any ‘best’ about it. I never thought about it at all. You know how wonderful Carolyn and Peggy have been to me, ever since I came to the high school as a scared little freshman, almost a year ago.”

“Yes; they’re my friends, too.”

“I’m not sure but I know you a little better than either of them now, after this queer summer and all our being together and having so much fun. Why, I shall look at you even in class when I think of something funny. And if you cast those gypsy eyes in my direction with that look of yours, when I’m reciting Latin or Math or something——”

Betty stopped to laugh, and Kathryn gave an answering chuckle. Tension was lessening. The idea of Kathryn’s feeling that way! Well, surprises were always happening.

“I like to have friends, Kathryn; and you have ever so many.”

“Yes, Betty, and I have sense enough to know that a girl like you will always have a great many, just like Carolyn.”

“I can’t see that either of us have more than you have. But that isn’t important, after all. Let me tell you what Mother said one time when the twins were fussing and Dick said that Mother liked Doris best. Mother pretty nearly said that there wasn’t any best about it. She said that she loved all her children to pieces, whatever they did; that each child had his own place in her heart, and that she didn’t even love them all together in a lump, just separately and a great deal. No child could take the place of another and she couldn’t even be happy in heaven unless we all were along!”

“Your mother must be a dear. Well, I know she is, from what I saw of her last year. Mother says that she wants to know her better, judging from what she has seen of you this summer.”

“Why, how nice! Gypsy, you’ll spoil me.”

“No I won’t. You’re unspoilable! But I’d like to be friends with you forever. Honestly, Betty, I’m not going to be crabby about your being with Carolyn, or Peggy, or anybody.”

“It wouldn’t be like you, Kathryn; and let’s make a sure-bond of friendship, to tell each other things the way we have this summer. And you can count on me, Kathryn, not to say mean things about you; so if Mathilde or anybody says things, please come straight to me about it, will you?”

“Yes, I will, but I couldn’t believe that you could say mean things; you don’t say them about anybody.”

“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I do criticize sometimes!”

“I never heard you say a mean thing—so live up to what I think of you, Betty Lee!” Kathryn was grinning at Betty now.

“I’ll try to,” laughed Betty. “It’s good of you to think I’m nice. Wait till I bring you another piece of fudge.” Betty dashed into the house, to return with the fudge pan, which they placed between them. That fudge was good. It was in just the right stage, a little soft, but firm enough to hold in pieces. It certainly did melt in one’s mouth.

“Is the back door locked?” asked Kathryn.

“Yes, indeedy. We must go in pretty soon, for Father will be driving out early. He said he was going to take us to a chicken dinner at Rockmont, a real country dinner. I hope they’ll have corn on the cob!”

“Yum-yum!”

“Oh, I’m so happy over your spending this week with me, Kathryn, and I think it so wonderful of your mother to let you do it!”

This was toward the close of Betty Lee’s odd, but interesting summer, after her freshman year in Lyon High. The summer months had been very hot at times, but the city was still new to Betty, with much left to be seen and all its summer forms of entertainment to be investigated. As she had written more than once to her mother, “I’d rather be here than anywhere, Mother. You needn’t feel sorry for me. It’s absolutely nothing to look after the house, and Father takes me out to dinner so often that he will be bankrupt, I’m afraid.”

It had been the Lee custom since “time immemorial,” as Betty had told Kathryn Allen, for Mrs. Lee to take the children to her mother’s for most of the summer. There, at “Grandma’s,” in the country, they had become acquainted with all the pleasure and some of the lighter work, indeed, that the big farm afforded.

But this year Grandma was not so well. The first plan had been for Dick to accompany his mother and small Amy Lou, for Dick was to “work,” at least to have certain duties, in looking after the stock, particularly the horses, of which he was especially fond, and the chickens, for this branch of farm life had been developed into quite a plant.

Betty was to “keep house for Papa,” and Doris was to be with her part of the time, at least. But this arrangement did not work well. Doris was disappointed and not very sweet about it. She resented Betty’s authority, yet was too young to have as much judgment as Betty. Accordingly, Doris was bundled off to the farm by her father and Mrs. Lee’s worries over Betty’s being alone through so much of the day commenced. This was when Kathryn began to come over so often, spending whole days with Betty. To be sure, there were other people in the house, the two who lived in the upper part of the house. But sometimes Mr. Lee was delayed, or there would be some evening conference, which made the safe disposition of Betty necessary to be considered; and Betty began to have visitors.

She always declared that her real knowledge of the art of cooking began the summer she “kept house for Father,” and had, “one after another,” her “sisters and her cousins and her aunts” come to visit her. “I couldn’t let them do all the cooking, could I? And we had three meals a day. My, it was good when Father took us out for dinner!”

But the “sisters and cousins and aunts” amounted to only one young cousin, Lilian Lee, bright girl of about seventeen years, and an older one, related to her mother. She enjoyed being escorted around the city by Betty, who added to her own knowledge at the same time. The only drawback during the three weeks of this visit was that Cousin Eunice was so afraid of burglars. Betty privately informed her father that she “most smothered” every night, because her cousin was afraid to have the windows up enough.

Then there was one unexpected guest whom Betty enjoyed, a former school chum of her mother’s with her daughter, a girl about Betty’s age. They were motoring through and expected to find Mrs. Lee at home. But they were persuaded to stay a few days when it was found that Mr. Lee was obliged to make a trip away. Their coming was “providential,” Betty declared.

So the summer had flown by on wings, with a little practicing on the precious violin, much less than anticipated, but with much coming and going, rides about the city, visits to the little resorts near by and several excursions on the river boats. It was characteristic of Betty, who usually forgot the unpleasant features, that she should write to her mother of “one continuous picnic,” which she declared the summer to have furnished. “Of course,” she added, “there have been some funny times, and I burnt up toast and scorched some soup, and things like that, but it’s all been very exciting!”

Mrs. Lee thought that very likely some of it had been too exciting to be safe; but she did not spoil Betty’s morale by too many cautions, other than the general rules she had established before she left.

And now, while the girls talked of intimate matters in the late afternoon on the Lee porch, here came a big car that stopped before the house and someone leaned out, waving excitedly.

CHAPTER II: CAROLYN ARRIVES

“Carolyn!” exclaimed Betty and Kathryn in one breath. Both girls jumped up and ran toward the pavement where Carolyn, trim and pretty, and still in her traveling suit, was lightly and quickly leaving the car, looking back for a word or two with its occupants and then, smilingly, coming to meet her two friends.

“Am I still on your list of friends?” she asked, holding Betty off after an embrace. “Kathryn, I don’t deserve to have such a nice welcome and I know it! Will you girls ever forgive me for not writing?”

It was the old Carolyn. My, but she was sweet. Betty knew why, “all over again,” as she said to herself—why she loved Carolyn Gwynne.

“Do you have to do anything for ten minutes or so?” continued Carolyn, walking between the girls to the porch and being escorted, not to the steps, but to a hanging swing in which they all could sit.

“Not a thing,” Betty assured her, “and for more than ten minutes, I hope, if you are mentioning how long you can stay.”

“They’ll be back for me,” said Carolyn. “We came most of the way by train, but were met, and I asked to drive around this way in case I should see anything of Betty, to make my peace with her—and here are both of you. I’m positively afraid to meet Peggy Pollard. I owe her two letters, and I don’t owe you girls but one! And oh, I’ve the grandest plan for next summer. Positively, you’ve both got to begin planning now to come to our camp with me. Even if I didn’t write, I thought of you—every time I went in swimming, Betty—or almost, to be real truthful—I could see you in your bathing suit, cutting the ‘dashing waves’ or rolling in the sand with me.”

“I’d love ‘rolling in the sand’ with you, Carolyn,” laughed Betty, “but I’ve had a perfectly delicious summer at home. I am, of course, very much offended at you for not having answered my letter; but I’m afraid I can’t keep it up because there’s so much to talk about. Kathryn, can you stay mad at Carolyn?”

“Never could,” smiled Kathryn. “Carolyn gets away with a lot of things she forgets because she is so nice about remembering some more important things.”

“There!” exclaimed Carolyn. “You’re a friend worth having, Kathryn!” And Carolyn wondered at the affectionate glance, full of meaning, that Betty gave Kathryn. It was generous of Kathryn to praise Carolyn, in view of her acknowledged bit of jealousy.

“Betty, I laughed and laughed over that letter. It was too clever for words. And the funny things that happened to you! How do people ever keep house and remember all the things that they have to be careful about? I suppose it’s nothing unusual to have somebody at the back door, a ring at the front door, the ice man coming and all while a body is talking at the telephone and trying to get an important message, but you certainly made it funny. ‘Hello, hello—yes, Father—I don’t quite get that—where did you say to meet you?—mercy, there is the ice man and somebody else is knocking, too and the door-bell is ringing—what’ll I do?—you can’t hold the ’phone?’—something like that, Kathryn. And you must have been scared the time you forgot to keep the screen door fastened and that agent walked right in.”

“Yes,” laughed Betty. “I thought he was taking a gun from his pocket and I backed toward the front room door, ready to run, while he fixed me with his awful eye, and then asked me if I wanted to buy whatever he had. I didn’t even look at it. I gasped out, ‘No, sir,’ and then I heard what I had on the gas stove boiling over and knew it would put out the gas; so I turned and fled, and when I came back the man was gone and nothing was missing!”

“How soon can you girls come out? I’ll be unpacking tomorrow and the house will be upset while things are getting back into shape again, but the day after that—oh, have you heard about Louise Madison, and Ted Dorrance?”

Carolyn’s manner was so impressive as she asked this question that Betty’s heart gave a little leap. What could be the matter! An accident?

“What about them?” asked Kathryn, “married?”

“Not a bit of it. Just the other way. My sister heard all about it. Somebody wrote to her from the same summer resort where the Dorrances and the Madisons happened to be together. Somebody that goes to the University was there, too, and paid a lot of attention to Louise; and she liked it—and him, of course—and you may imagine what Ted thought about it. So all at once Ted left and went somewhere else, with some boys from here, and the girl that wrote to sister claims that Louise is engaged to the other man, though we don’t believe it. Louise is only a freshman in college!”

“You never can tell, Carolyn,” wisely returned Kathryn. “Louise is sort of flirty anyhow. And, for that matter, Ted is pretty nice to all the girls, only since he has been taking Louise around there’s been nobody else.”

“It seems too bad,” remarked Betty, pondering. “They are both so nice. I thought it so romantic last year.”

“I never thought it could last,” said Carolyn, “from what my sister said then. You see, Louise is older than Ted and a year ahead of him in school; and it doesn’t stand to reason that when she is with all these University people next year, in the same classes, and the boys liking Louise the way they always do—that Ted would have much of a chance.”

“But Ted is a very unusual boy,” Betty insisted.

“Ted is one of those boys that everybody likes,” Carolyn assented. “Well, we’ll let him look after himself. Kathryn, did you hear that Finny is coming back to join her more democratic sisters in the sophomore class?”

“Yes. I was just telling Betty about her. Do you know why she decided to come back to high school?”

“I wouldn’t say anything about it except to you two and Peggy, because it wouldn’t be fair to Mathilde not to let her have a chance to make her own reputation in high school; but I’m pretty sure, from all the really mean things I heard said about her, that even ‘discounting’ the truth of some of them, as the person that repeated the most said to me, the school where she was didn’t exactly appreciate her. Besides, she failed in several branches and had to make up what she could this summer. But she’ll be a sophomore all right. Now, please don’t tell a word of this. I wouldn’t want it to come from me, or be mean to Mathilde, though I’m going very slowly in that direction!”

This from kind Carolyn was a good deal, as Betty knew. Still, in the excitement of the return and news telling, girls were likely to say too much.

“We’ll say nothing,” replied Kathryn. “At least I can promise for myself, and you know Betty.”

“Oh, how did violin practice go, Betty? You didn’t say a word about it in your letter. It didn’t ‘harmonize,’ to be very musical in my speech—with washing dishes and cooking and having company did it?”