Lessons? They were hard, perhaps; but then everybody was patient and understanding. Miss Drury and Miss Stewart, Miss Lee and Mademoiselle—they all seemed to know when she was trying, and to be quite satisfied with that. But when classes were over life was like a dream; there was only one “only” at St. Benedick’s, only one thorn in Betty’s bed of roses—the absence of the twins and baby; of anybody, in fact, who needed her in the same way that she had been always needed at home!
Betty still felt a little choky at times, therefore, not to have Jan’s bed pulled close to her own; not to have to play “Little Mother” all day long. If there had been any “mothering” of any kind to do at St. Benedick’s, then school would have been to her a perfect place. But except for Gerry, who had begun by protecting Betty herself, and who certainly did not intend to be “mothered,” Betty was the youngest girl of all. Mona and Rene were each a few months older, and proportionately proud of the fact; and the Mascot found herself in much the same position at St. Benedick’s as that occupied at home by Jan, the twin.
She was smiled at by the seniors, and petted a little. And though to be “treated like a little one” was just what she needed, and lovely, too, in a way, yet Betty wanted to pet some one herself! If it hadn’t been for the garden her heart would have had an empty place in it which nothing else at St. Benedick’s quite knew how to fill.
But the Daisy garden was hers—partly, at least. Sybil had told her so. At the first Guide meeting the patrol leader—very quiet and business-like, and altogether unlike the affectionate laughing girl who had sat on shy Betty’s bed and hugged her—had presided over her patrol, and had explained, after going into details, none of which the Mascot understood, what Betty’s work would be.
“I want Mona and Rene and Gerry to teach you the Guide promises, and to explain them, Betty. They will do so as well as they can, and you can all talk them over together. Then, on Saturday week, you may come and repeat them to me. That will be enough Guide work for you; though, if you like, you might begin practising some of the easy knots. Perhaps in the garden, you know.”
“Sybil,” Gerry had piped up, “Betty was asking—you see, she wants to know if she may garden. She’s not taking dancing, nor music, nor singing, nor riding, nor——”
“That will do, Gerry,” Sybil stopped her.
Betty was taking none of the “extra subjects” at school. Auntie and Dad had explained the reason to her—it was because of “the expense”; and Betty had nodded a business-like head at the time.
At St. Benedick’s, however, Miss Carey had put the matter to her in another way. “I am very glad, my dear, that you are to have a quiet term. You will have plenty of free time on your hands in which to learn to be happy in quiet ways.”
Betty had found, so far, that her steps had always seemed to lead her gardenwards at those times. For there was generally a broken stalk to help, or a flower to water, or the progress of some bee to follow, or the gradual growth of some small seedling to wonder at. All the things in the garden were smaller than Betty. Defenceless, too. Somehow they seemed to need her a little bit in the way that the children had needed her at home. She had looked up eagerly to hear what Sybil would say in answer to Gerry’s suggestion.