Clara’s tone was very patronizing indeed, and as she was one of the older seniors, Betty claimed afterward that she felt like a worm! “I’ll do my best,” Betty meekly replied, “and I hope that you will help out on the music at our programs. You play the piano so beautifully. We need some good programs, too.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly act on any program committee,” airily and decisively said the senior, “but I might play for you some time.”
“Thank you,” said Betty, feeling that she should never want to ask Clara, yet knowing that she should not feel that way. The mention of the sorority, of course, was to impress a non-sorority girl. Clara was not a Kappa Upsilon, and Betty really did not know to what sorority she did belong.
Betty had not noticed that another girl had come up behind Clara, evidently in time to hear most of what was said, but now one of Clara’s senior friends leaned over to say, “Take the last bite of that pie, Brad. I want you and Clara to help start one of the games.”
“After this dinner?” queried Brad, springing up, for Clara had risen. And as Betty still sat by Chet, she heard Clara say something in a low tone to the senior girl, who said with the evident purpose of being heard, “The nerve of her mentioning it at all!”
It was not pleasant to Betty, who wished, indeed, that she had employed “more sense.” Probably it was “nerve,” but she had not meant it so. She did not speak of it to Chet and entered the games happily enough, having learned a little lesson, however. She had not known Clara well enough to bring up the subject; and probably it was not best to be so frank except with your best friends. Betty wondered about that. Clara probably thought that Betty was gloating over being elected! Oh, another thing! Betty had forgotten about how the seniors felt about being beaten in basketball the year before. That class, so far as the girls were concerned, happened not to be so good in athletics. The present junior girls usually beat them and Betty was prominent among those who played basketball and hockey. Dear, dear, how complicated things were sometimes. And it was important for the “good works” of Lyon “Y” to have everybody co-operate! “I wonder if I have enough tact to be president of anything,” thought honest Betty to herself, as she submitted to having a fool’s cap on her head, for some game and puled Chet by saying that it was the “most appropriate cap she could wear.”
“What’s the sense to that remark, Betty?” asked Chet.
“None,” laughed Betty. “I’m just a little dippy tonight.”
There was plenty of real fun and in a good safe place; but Betty took cold from getting too warm and then rushing out to look at the stars without enough around her. A young university professor pointed out some of the constellations to a group of young people. It was interesting and Betty did not realize how cold she was until Chet said, “You’re shivering, Betty Lee. Come right inside. They’ve a one-cent grab-bag and we may draw whistles for tomorrow’s game.”
“Sure you can afford it, Chet?” laughed Betty as she followed obediently.