“If you don’t want to ride with me, Betty, I’ll take you to the nearest park or tea room, where we can talk. I wouldn’t mind having you seen with me today, after what I understand they’re telling, about the party, in school. Would you do it? What was that girl asking you—if you don’t mind telling? I heard you say ‘Jack,’ as I came up and stopped to wait.”
“That was the reporter for the paper, Jack. I think I fixed that for you.”
“Thanks. I just found out, Betty, that you went home by yourself. I was mad about it at first, but I got over that and I think I owe you an apology.”
“Yes. I think you do, Jack. But it might be just as well if you’d stay mad. Still, we must talk it over. We’ll be late to our classes now, Jack. See me after school. I’ll meet you in front and we’ll decide then where to go.”
Betty hurried off, but it was a gym class this time and with the changing of shoes, or the donning of bathing suits for the pool, there was often some irregularity in appearance at the exact time. As Betty cut the water like the goldfish her father sometimes called her, she wondered what in the world she would say to Jack. Yes, she would let him drive her to the small park not far away. There was the chaperonage of people coming and going, and yet they could talk uninterrupted. If it would do him any good in the eyes of the school to have her seem to be as friendly as ever, she would be glad. Under the circumstances, it could not hurt her and their future dropping of contact was no more than often happened anyway. But Betty did not take lightly what had happened. She would tell Jack just how she felt about it. Yet, dear me, the more you thought about it the worse it was; and who could tell beforehand what she was going to say? Usually it was something entirely different from what you had thought up!
Chet Dorrance and Chauncey Allen, racing to the street car together, saw Betty walking toward the side street with Jack. “I wonder if Betty’s folks would like to have her go around with Jack Huxley if they knew all about him,” Chauncey was looking after Betty, as they stopped to let a few machines pass before crossing to take their car or wait for it.
“I suppose that party must have been all right,” said Chet, “in spite of what they say, or Betty wouldn’t be with him now.”
“You never can tell about a girl,” replied Chauncey. “I’m sorry to say it, Chet, but maybe she likes him.”
“Don’t mind me, Chauncey,” facetiously said Chet, with a grin. “Maybe she does, but I’d rather see Betty pick out some other sort of a boy.”
Meanwhile Betty was settling herself in the gay roadster and Jack was starting.