Betty Lee, Freshman

by Harriet Pyne Grove

  CHAPTER III: “THE FATEFUL DAY”

  The “fateful day,” as Betty’s father jokingly called it, had arrived. OnMonday morning there were great stirrings in the Lee menage. Betty’smother was up early, getting everybody else up on time, seeing that theschool credentials were at hand, ready to be taken by the children andpresented at the schools. Amy Lou, fortunately, slept on, not wakinguntil everybody else was at the breakfast table.

  Betty started to get up when a mournful wail came from the bedroom. AmyLou had been Betty’s responsibility and she could not quite realize thatin school days now her first concern was to be her lessons, as hermother’s custom desired it to be, though in moments of stress, Bettyknew well, she was to be on the “relief corps,” another of her father’sexpressions.

  “Not you this time, daughter,” said Mrs. Lee, rising. “Finish yourbreakfast and be ready when your father goes. You’d better take chargeof all the grades and give Doris and Dick their papers when they getthere.”

  It was very exciting. What would the new big school be like? Dick andDoris talked steadily during breakfast. “If old Bill was just here,”said Dick, “I’d give him the Merry Ha?ha about our going to a juniorhigh school!”

  Doris settled her beads about her neck, looked down at her neat frock,chosen as suitable by her mother, then thrusting her napkin by herplate, she scampered, unexcused, from the table, to do last things.

  Betty exchanged an amused glance with her father, who rose and went outto bring up the car. Betty hastily carried a few dishes, from theirplaces, to the kitchen, as Mrs. Lee came out with a cross Amy Lou, andthen ran off herself to get ready.

  It seemed no time at all before they were in the car, driving to theschool, which they had seen only in passing. The morning traffic washeavy and swift. Cars were making their rapid way in the direction of“town.” Street cars clattered. Trucks and buses avoided them by inchesonly. Overhead there was the occasional roar of a plane from the flyingfield.

  At last they had reached the green campus of the school. “I’m glad we gohere,” said Doris, “instead of to that school we saw where the groundsare all gravel.”

  “That was a new building, Doris,” said her Dad, “the grounds areprobably not finished.”

  “I don’t think so, Papa,” returned Doris. “You know how the school boardman at home said that there was no use in sodding our new school groundsbecause the boys would spoil it all playing ball and things. And theyput gravel on it, and every time you fell down running it hurt likeeverything.”

  Doris had no reply to this, for Mr. Lee was stopping before the concretesidewalk that bordered the school grounds. “Hop out, children,” said he.“I’m sorry that I can’t stop with you. You know what the buildings are,however. Inquire your way to the office of the principal, you know. Sureyou know what cars to take to get home?”

  “Yes, Father,” Betty answered. “Dick promised to wait for Doris; so ifthey can’t find me they’ll go home together. My, what a crowd!”

  Mr. Lee glanced with some fatherly pride at the little group of threethat walked from the car to the entrance of the grounds. There a longwalk, paved and lined with beautiful shrubbery, led to the impressivefront of the building that spread so widely with its wings and corners.Then he detached himself from the rest of the cars that were eitherdrawing up to discharge pupils or were parked in a long row along thecurb. The Lee children were already lost in the kaleidoscope of movingboys and girls, of all ages, heights, and costumes, most of them verynice?looking, Betty’s father thought. He hoped that there would be notrouble about their entrance papers. Mrs. Lee could scarcely risk takingAmy Lou to the school, and he had told her that the children might justas well begin to depend on themselves, even if the city was new to them.

  Nevertheless, it would have been better if it had been possible for aparent to accompany them, and no one knew that better than Mr. Lee. Thehurry of their becoming settled had not been easy for any of them and acity offered many dangers, especially those of traffic. But as the feverof hurry had not yet infected them, it was likely that they would becareful in crossing streets and would observe the traffic regulations.He was glad to see that a traffic officer had been stationed at theschool crossing.

  “We look as well as most of them,” said Doris, though rather doubtfully,as she looked admiringly at a tall girl who was strolling by with ayouth as tall as she. They were laughing and talking and the girl waswearing a silk dress as pretty and stylish, as light in color and asgood, as Betty’s “Sunday frock,” Doris said.

  “Yes,” said Betty, “but there’s every sort, and our pretty summerdresses that Mother made look all right. There–see that awfully prettygirl, Doris. Her green dress is trimmed with white organdy exactly likeyour blue one!”

  The two younger children left Betty to go around to the entrance oftheir own separate building. Betty handed each of them the envelope withthe respective credits and grades and then went up the steps with herown in her hand. Mercy, what a babel of voices! Betty stopped still andlooked around. Good! There were all sorts of notices posted. She readthem. That long line of boys and girls must lead to the “office.”

  “Freshmen go to Assembly Hall,” she read. Now where was the “AssemblyHall?” Oh, that must be it, where all those younger looking boys andgirls were going. She followed, joining the stream of boys and girlsthat in groups or singly entered the wide doors.

  Oh, what a fine, big hall! Was this really a public school? Facing herwas the wide stage with its handsome velvet curtains, and my, all thosepipes must be of a big pipe organ! Yes, there was the place for theorganist at the side.

  Betty slipped into a seat. Some one was reading names and telling themwhat to do. She would sit there and listen. It was pleasantly cool inthe immense hall. Although it was morning, the September day was alreadywarm. Betty felt a little confused, but soon concentrated her attentionupon what was going on. Girls and boys were leaving the hall at times.

  Finally she bethought herself of the fact that her name could notpossibly be read out, since they had never heard of her. A girl who satbeside her looked friendly. She would ask. Yes, these were the names ofall the freshmen who were coming in from other schools or the juniorhigh right here. They had turned in their credits and were assigned to“home rooms and so forth.”

  Now what were “home rooms,” and what did “and so forth” include? Shecould not ask the person who was reading the names. She hated to askquestions of any other pupil near her. She would seem like such a“dummy.” But she must find out what to do. She would go out and see ifshe should go to the “office” first.

  Quietly Betty slipped out of the seat and went out into the noisy hall.She went near the door and peeped into the office. Some one in the linethought that she was going to get by and nodded in the direction of therear. It was a “snippy” sort of a look, Betty thought, that this girldirected toward her. Betty merely looked at her with a contemplativegaze and nodded in understanding. She would not say anything either. Shecould see what was going on. That was the principal, she supposed, busywith students. There were several teachers or assistants of some sortthere. Yes, this must be what she must do; besides, her father had toldher to go to the office. It was that sign that mislead her. My, what along line. Would she ever get any attention from the principal? ButBetty walked back and took her place in line, intending to ask some onein it what this line was “supposed to be waiting for.”

  But there were two or three boys, perfectly strange to her, of course,just ahead of her. And behold, two very tall lads walked up and tooktheir places behind her. The first one was such a fine?looking boy, witha good face, indeed, rather striking features, clear grey eyes, “almostblue,” Betty thought, as she gave him a quick glance. He was dressedsuitably and neatly, yet looked “very stylish,” Betty thought, and asilk handkerchief peeped from his pocket. The conversation of the twoboys helped Betty through the first part of her wearisome wait.

  “Going in for athletics this year, Ted?” aske
d the “other boy,” who wasnot quite so interesting, Betty thought, though he had a pleasantboyish, face, too. He was coatless and had his shirt sleeves rolled upabove his elbows. But a neat tie finished his soft collar and he lookedas fresh and clean as possible.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Harry, swimming, of course, and theusual gym work, perhaps. But Mother wants me to be in the orchestra thisyear and that takes a lot of time. To tell the truth, I’d like to have alittle time for my lessons!”

  “I’ve _got_ to have,” assented Harry. “I worked my freshman year, butlast year wasn’t so good, and Dad says he won’t stand for it. My gradesweren’t so bad, but you should have heard the razzing I got! Dad tookthe card and went through the grades out loud.

  “‘That grade in English from the son of a teacher!’

  “‘Eighty in Latin, when you ought to have had ninety at least!’

  “I mustered up grit enough to tell him that Latin was hard and thateighty was a pretty good grade and that I hadn’t failed in anything. Butdid that stop him? It did not.

  “‘Fail! Fail? Hum! Mathematics, not so bad. Pretty respectable showingin science,’–‘well, make a better showing next year or I might have toput you to work.’ He gave me a quizzical smile, at least that is whatMother called it, and handed me back my card. Gee, sometimes I wish he_would_ put me to work, but after all, if you can get by with, yourlessons, the old place here looks pretty good.”

  “I’ll say it does today. How long do you suppose we’ll have to standhere?”

  “Until after lunch time, that’s what.”

  Betty, who had scarcely been able to keep from laughing out when “Harry”had been impersonating his father, so good and funny a performance hehad made of it, now sighed. She was tired already. It was worse thanwaiting in line at the one moving picture house that their little townhad boasted. She changed her weight, a light one, from one foot to theother. She fiddled with the long white envelope in her hand and onceopened it to peep inside and make sure that its contents were stillthere.

  But that was just the beginning. She held her place in line, wonderingwhat the two boys to whose conversation she had listened were there todo. Perhaps there had to be some change in their work. But they talkedabout everything else. Finally Betty thought she would “just have to goand sit down somewhere to rest,” but she kept standing in spite of herreal fatigue. She was toward the end of the line and only two or threepersons had followed the boys at first; then a few scattered additionshad been made. A few in front had dropped out.

  Finally some one came from the office to make an announcement to theline. Only a few more would be interviewed before lunch; and afterlunch, those who were new would be seen first. Others need not taketheir place in line until later, as all changes of schedule would behandled later in the day.

  Immediately the line ceased to be one, as its components vanished. Bettyagain went into the auditorium and sank into a seat to rest. What was itthat tired her so standing in line? She was probably just sort of tiredfrom everything, all the change and excitement and the responsibility ofgetting Amy Lou down on the train, though, that hadn’t turned out to beso bad. Luckily some one near her was discussing lunch; for Betty washungry and did not enjoy the thought of going without what had alwaysbeen the family dinner. It had been easy enough in the village for herfather to come home from his business and for the children to come fromschool, returning in plenty of time for the afternoon session. Now itwould be different indeed. Mother had said that dinner would be atnight, as Father would have his lunch down town; and on the street carit would take the children almost half an hour to reach home, to saynothing of extra street?car fare. There was to be lunch served at theschool, they understood, but would there be any today?

  “No,” the girl behind her was saying in a low tone, though the names hadlong since been read out and the freshmen dismissed to the “home rooms.”Only scattered groups of resting pupils were here and there in theseats. Betty was in the next to the last row and three girls had justentered the last row together.

  “I’m a wreck from standing in that line,” said the first one, as shedropped into a seat. “Aren’t they going to serve lunch today?”

  Then came the answer, for which Betty listened. “No; don’t you rememberthat we never have lunch at first?”

  “Well, I’ve only one year to remember, May, and I never did get anythingstraight when I was a freshman, at first anyhow.”

  Betty’s heart warmed with a fellow feeling.

  “I certainly wish that we could have one of those good lunches, but Isuppose it won’t kill us to starve for once. Let’s go down to you knowwhere and get a Swiss chocolate sundae. We can get back in time.”

  “I’d rather not, May; besides I’ve only got my street?car fare and tencents, I think.”

  “I’ll lend you some more,” suggested May.

  “Can’t possible this time; too tired, besides. There used to be a placeopposite the school. What’s become of that? I used to get chocolate barsand sandwiches there.”

  “New building across the street. Well, if you aren’t going, I am. ShallI bring you something? Maybe I’ll have a sandwich, too.”

  “If you can get one for ten cents–no, here are some coppers. Hurrah!”

  Evidently the girl behind Betty was emptying her store of small fundsinto the hand of the other girl. There was giggling and a scramblingafter a copper that had dropped and rolled. Then one girl left and theother strolled over to join a group of girls by a window.

  Betty wished that she had brought a chocolate bar which by the irony offate she had taken out of her bag to leave it home! But she could gowithout a meal if she had to do it. She could get something to eat assoon as she reached home.

  Rested now, she thought she would go over to the building which housedthe junior high school and see if Doris and Dick were also waitingaround. It was quite a little walk, or seemed so to Betty, but it wasinteresting when she reached the place and entered it. Scarcely anychildren were to be seen. She walked through vacant halls and decidedthat Doris and Dick had already gone home. She hoped that her motherwould not be worried about her. There was no way of getting her word,though she had seen a telephone in the office. But of course she couldnot use that.

  Time slipped by in some fashion. She went back to the auditorium, nowabout deserted. She watched the time, determined to be one of the firstat the office door, and as all things come to an end at last, she foundherself talking to a sober, dignified, yet kindly man in the office,arranging her schedule or, more properly, answering questions about thework she had covered, and receiving a “slip” to present to her “homeroom teacher” the next day.

  It was all more or less puzzling to the young freshman from away; butshe understood the next step and where she was to report on thefollowing day. That would have to be enough. A somewhat breathless,excited, and very hungry Betty reached home at about two o’clock in theafternoon, welcomed by her mother as a returning prodigal and directedto where she would find the “fatted calf” or a more attractivesubstitute.