The three, on their way to school, had paused in front of Betty’s house, and she came out and joined them.
It was late in October. The McGuires had been back in their city home for several weeks, and both Betty and Jack were in school again.
“Do your ears burn, Betty?” asked Dorothy; as they two fell behind the other couple; “for we’ve been throwing the biggest sort of bouquets at you!”
“They didn’t hit my ears,” said Betty, laughing. “What sort were they?”
“Oh, we just said you’re a disagreeable old thing, and nobody loves you!”
“Nothing of the sort!” cried honest Jeanette, turning her head. “We all agreed that you’re a general favorite and the boys like you better than they do any of the rest of us.”
“Spare me blushes!” cried Betty. “Which of the boys confided this startling news to you?”
“Of course we can see it,” said Lena, “but, to make sure, I asked Brother Bob. I said, says I, ‘Which girl do you like best of all our set?’ and he said, ‘Why, Betty, of course,—doesn’t everybody?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’”
“Oh, Lena, you goose!” said Betty, but she was unable to repress a pleased smile at her friends’ talk.
It was really true, Betty had become a prodigious favorite among the circle of Boston young people with whom she associated. She was so whole-souled and good-hearted, so ready to help everybody, so merry and full of fun, and withal so unostentatious and simple-mannered, that nobody could help liking her.