Betty Lee, Junior

by Harriet Pyne Grove

But the audience, who had, it must be said, been warned that they must be a part of the play, behaved most circumspectly when later the walls of the woodchopper’s hut parted to reveal a cathedral shrine or altar. From the rear of the auditorium, now supposed to be the cathedral, came the choir, chanting as the organ notes filled the room. Betty was one of the choir.

Up the aisle, up the steps made for the purpose, they went and stood in their places singing. One by one, unhurriedly, up the different aisles, past the quiet students and visitors, came rich man, rich woman, courtier, girl, sage and king, with gifts for the priest to offer. The medieval costumes were impressive. Then, from his place in the background, the lad, urged by the old woman, went forward with his small gift, all he had; and the fabled chimes that had rung for no other, rang for him, as the guest disappeared.

As the organ played the chimes and the lovely girl who was the angel spoke, Betty saw her mother’s handkerchief come out to clear misty eyes. There was the hush that meant the success of a message. In a few moments the curtains were drawn to again, and the audience was dismissed.

But as Betty went back to the rear again, to be in readiness for the choir’s entrance in the second and last performance, she noticed that her mother remained for that performance, too, though she had not expressed any such intention, and “lo and behold,” as her senior friend Lilian said to her, there entered her father, with Mr. Murchison and the countess. “Oh, Lucia, look!” cried Betty, leaning around a group of costumed players to speak to Lucia, who was in the group, as she added her youthful contralto to the choir.

Lucia smiled and nodded. “I knew they were coming,” she said.

Perhaps it was due to the inspiration or presence of Countess Coletti, but the second performance, according to Mrs. Lee, surpassed the first. Restless little junior high pupils appreciated the privilege of this assembly and were still at all the proper places. No wrongly timed giggles of laughter disturbed the play, which went through, without seeming hurried, in a shorter time. It was one of the things that one hated to have over, according to Betty, though she was glad that she did not have to pose as long as did the “angel.”

“What are you going to do tonight after the carols, Betty?” asked the countess, who had come back to see Lucia a moment after the play.

“Just go home,” replied Betty, simply. “It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”

“Indeed I do know, Betty,” returned the countess gravely. “It is going to be a little hard for Lucia tonight. It was last year. I thought I would ask your father and mother and the children over, if they did not think it would be too late. Will you have to trim your Christmas tree at the last minute, or something like that?”

“I don’t think so. We still hang up stockings, though chiefly for Amy Lou now! and this year we have just a little tree that she is to help trim after dinner tonight.”