Of Jack Huxley she saw little. He was courteous enough to speak when they met and if they were unavoidably in a junior group together he was as friendly to Betty as to any one. But there was no waiting after school to see her. There were no invitations. And other matters occupied Betty’s thoughts.
“I don’t want to be inquisitive, or curious, Carolyn,” said Peggy Pollard one day to Carolyn Gwynne, “but don’t you imagine there must have been something in all that gossip about Jack Huxley’s party? I notice Betty and he haven’t been together any since. Did Betty ever tell you anything? Or isn’t it any of my affair?”
“Betty’s never said anything much about the party to me, Peggy, only that it was a big one and they had it all very ‘spuy’ there, dinner with lots of courses and everything. I really can’t remember what she did say. And was it after that Jack stopped being with Betty? He’s been around with Mathilde some, I know; but I thought it was because old Chet has been rushing Betty a lot. She was in that pretty Holland booth Mrs. Dorrance was running and you know we girls were all invited out there for a fete they had on her big lawn. But Peggy, I think it’s just as well for Betty to stick with the old crowd. Chet, too, will be in the university next year. He has to make hay while the sun shines. I feel sorry for Chet if Betty doesn’t like him as much as he likes her.”
“Don’t worry about Chet, Carolyn. Likely enough he’ll meet some girl at the university and Betty will be the one to miss our senior boys. I think I know one or two juniors, though, that won’t’ be so sorry when that bunch of boys has gone.”
“Of course. If they didn’t go, then we wouldn’t be seniors. I hope the teams won’t suffer.”
Baseball, the “senior exams,” the excitement of the approaching commencement, little social affairs of clubs and groups, more elaborate entertainments, assemblies in the auditorium that no one wanted to miss—all these and more filled the days.
There was a general rejoicing and excitement one day when great loads of handsome books were delivered at the school and a rush occurred at all possible moments to get a copy of the annual Lyon High Star. It was the custom to order the books in advance, as they were too expensive to have any copies left over. Not all felt that they could buy one, but those who did were generous with them and it was not unusual to see a group gathered around, peering over shoulders to look at the pictures of groups or individuals, taken some time back, when the camera men came out to the school.
Betty and Carolyn secured their copies among the first and plumped down in seats in the auditorium at the close of school to look at them. Mary Emma and Selma were standing behind them, bending over with interest; and not far away Chet and Budd were chuckling over a copy. Naturally, their own individual pictures with their class were of first interest. “Oh, Betty!” cried Mary Emma, “that isn’t half as pretty as you are, but it’s pretty good after all! And look at mine—there—on the same page. Isn’t that awful! I’m just smirking! Somebody had made me laugh and I was trying to get over it and just smile a little.”
“Wait till you see mine,” said Carolyn, “before you shed tears. I’m the crossest girl you ever saw, so far as mere looks are concerned.”
“Why, Caroline, you just look serious. Of course, you usually don’t, but what is a little thing like that?” This was Betty.