Betty Wales, Junior: A Story for Girls

by Edith K. Dunton

There was a party of Harvard men on board, several of whom Mary knew, and after they had been duly presented to Miss Hale, it was the most natural thing in the world for the young people to drift back to the ship’s railing, leaving Dr. Eaton to sit down in the chair next Ethel’s.

HE WAS THE FIRST ONE TO SEE HER

Betty and Mary Brooks, however, were not too engrossed in the sail-hunting match that Bob had proposed, to notice the manner of the two in the steamer chairs. At first Ethel looked troubled, and Betty was sure, though she never told Mary so, that she was almost ready to cry. But after a few minutes’ earnest talk between them she smiled and nodded an emphatic assent to something Dr. Eaton had said, and presently they were promenading the little deck together in the most sociable fashion, stopping occasionally to hear how the sail-hunting match was going on.

“What did I tell you!” said Mary triumphantly, recounting it all to Roberta later. “They’ve made a splendid beginning already, and the Merry Match-makers haven’t lifted a finger.”

The only trouble was that the splendid beginning stubbornly refused to develop. During the rest of the voyage Miss Hale and Dr. Eaton were apparently on an easy, friendly footing, as two people who have taught in the same college for a year, and met at chapel and faculty meetings and at various social functions, might be expected to be. But after their first talk, they seemed to avoid being alone together. Without making any apparent effort, Ethel always happened to be attended by some of her nine slaves, and there was nothing for Dr. Eaton to do but talk cheerfully to the rest of the nine. Whether or not he wished to talk to Miss Hale instead, was a question on which “The Merry Hearts” were divided.

Meanwhile the girls were enjoying to the full what was for most of them their first taste of ocean travel. Every day the sea and the sky grew bluer, and the little breeze softer and more languorous. There was one last dreadful night when the ship tossed up and down on the rolling swells of the Gulf Stream. But toward morning the tossing ceased, things stopped tumbling about the state-rooms, and when the girls awoke the sun was shining on a sea as calm as a mill-pond, and the ship was anchored just outside the low, gray reef that blocks the entrance to Nassau harbor.

“Why, I’m going to see my father and mother to-day,” cried Betty Wales, jumping up in great excitement. She was the first one of the party to be dressed and on deck, and there to her delight were Mr. and Mrs. Wales in a little launch, waiting to meet the party and take them in to the wharf. Betty waved them a frantic greeting, then flew back to tell the rest to hurry, and presently they were one by one making the precarious descent down the ship’s side. Betty went first, because it was her father and mother, and Roberta last because she was so dreadfully frightened and only consented to go at all after the captain had promised to rescue her himself if she fell overboard, and Mr. Wales had assured her that there was yellow fever in Havana, whither the ship was bound. Roberta had just decided that drowning was preferable to fever, and had reached the shelter of the launch in safety, when Dr. Eaton appeared on deck, and waved a friendly good-bye to “The Merry Hearts.”

“Who’s that?” asked Mr. Wales. Betty explained. “Then tell him to come to shore with us,” said her father. “There’s plenty of room for one more, and I need a man to defend me against all these ladies.”

So Betty called back the invitation, and Dr. Eaton ran down the ladder and dropped into the boat with an easy indifference that made Roberta sigh with envy.