Betty Lee, Freshman

by Harriet Pyne Grove

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 Dick 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.