The faithful old horse was pulled up suddenly. “Hello, Betty, going to leave this morning?”
Betty halted, though still moving slowly. “Yes; the rest of us are going on the morning train, Bill.” She smiled up at the big lad, who was a junior in high school. Betty did not know him very well, though to be sure all the high school and grade pupils knew each other and each other’s families more or less.
“Sorry you’re going, Betty. I s’pose you’re in a hurry, though. So long, Betty. Don’t forget the old town.” Bill started the horse with a flap of the reins as he spoke.
“Never,” returned Betty, nodding a farewell and hurrying on. Was she really going to leave–forever? She looked down the quiet street ahead of her. Trees beautiful and green allowed their branches to meet over the unpaved road. Homes with large yards displayed trees, shrubbery and flowers, though so late for many of them. It was all so familiar that she had forgotten how it did look!
Betty almost felt like taking a turn around the block for a last look at their own home; but she thought of the curtainless windows, the desolate yard and the empty swing under the elm trees. No, thank you! Betty sniffed and fumbled in her pocketbook for a handkerchief. Was she going to cry now? Not a bit of it! She had to keep up before the girls. Bounding a corner, there she was at Janet’s. Janet had cried last night. It wasn’t real. She was in a dream!
And Betty had had her dreams, like all girls of her age. The little town of Buxton was not a rich one. It was not even in a good farming center, nor was it a county seat. Two good school buildings and some churches were its chief ornaments, architecturally. Among the people, as always, there were the good element and the bad or shiftless element. Yet some very fine people had found a home there and among them were the friends of Betty Lee’s family. It was quiet. It was fairly safe. Betty, protected by the oversight of a sensible yet idealistic mother, was a happy girl, interested in everything and ambitious in school, whose activities were always prominent and whose teachers held the respect of the community. Betty would probably marry one of the boys some day, as she had seen older girls do, and settle down. Perhaps she could go away to school for a year or two. If she couldn’t, there were always books and music and friends, nice things to do and dear people to love. Vague thoughts like this about the future were in her mind when she thought about it at all. Her father and mother were her standards of excellence; and therein lay much safety, since those two were wise and self-controlled.
And now, so unexpectedly, there was this bewildering change to city life. It was exciting to think about it and yet Betty could not foresee the changes it was going to make in her whole adventure of living. For in the new and in many ways very superior school to which she was going, new friends, with work, play, perplexity, even mystery, perhaps, and a wider choice of opportunity waited for this wholesome, attractive Betty Lee. To say the least, life was not going to be dull, and this Betty felt.
“No, there’s something about Betty Lee.” Janet Light was saying to Sue Miller. “I don’t believe that she ‘will be lost in the multitude,’ as she says. Her teachers will notice her at least. I’d pick Betty out in a thousand!”
“Oh, that’s natural. You’re her chum. But isn’t she sort of scared to go to such a big school?”
“No, I don’t think Betty’s scared. Of course–you know Betty. She wouldn’t want to show it if she were. I think that she’s really crazy about going; but you can imagine how she’d feel, dread it a little. I only wish I could go–that is, if I could take everybody along!”