Part 1 (1/2)

Betty Lee, Freshman.

by Harriet Pyne Grove.

CHAPTER I: BETTY LEE'S MOST MOVING ADVENTURE

Betty Lee, aged almost fourteen, was dressing for travel. She both dreaded and antic.i.p.ated 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, d.i.c.k and Doris, aged twelve, were already downstairs eating breakfast. Betty had helped d.i.c.k 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 splas.h.i.+ng 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 d.i.c.k 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. ”h.e.l.lo, 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 leaveforever? 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 s.h.i.+ftless 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.