“Honestly, Betty, I don’t know whether I could or not.” Jack was serious enough as Betty summed up the situation from her viewpoint. He folded his arms and looked down at the grass where a little chipping sparrow was hopping about. Then suddenly his mood changed. “Aw, Betty, come now. It isn’t as bad as you think. Why, we’ve always had liquor of some sort around. Father’s had it all his life and it never hurt him. (Oh, hasn’t it? Betty thought.)
“I was just celebrating my birthday a little too much—that was all. Let’s forget it. I’ll make it up to you. Mother’s provoked about it and I think she was going to call up your mother today; but whatever our folks think we can be friends, can’t we?”
“Jack, as I told you when we began to talk about this, I looked forward to that party, and I did and do appreciate all that your mother and father did to make everything lovely for all of us. It was a wonderful entertainment, dinner, the pretty house, everything, and I don’t for a minute think you are responsible for what the other boys brought in in their flasks, or for the way some of them behaved. And you can count upon me, Jack, not to tell about those things at school, or anywhere else, for that matter.
“But to be special friends or see much of each other—we just can’t, that’s all. We are too different. You think things are all right that I—well, you see how hard it is for us even to talk about them.” Betty stopped, for Jack was frowning.
“How about that picnic that we fixed up that night at dinner? You said you’d go. I promise you that I’ll not have a drop of anything with me.”
Betty had all she could do to keep steady. Jack did like her, and his eyes were so distressed. “Oh, I’d love to say it was all right, Jack, because you’ve been such a good friend; but even if I could tell you that I would go, Mother and Father would never let me go anywhere with that crowd again.”
“How about me alone, with a different crowd?”
“The same, Jack—I’m sorry.” Betty, too, looked distressed.
“I don’t think you care very much, Betty.” Jack jumped up. “I’ll drive you home unless you think that your parents will think you quite contaminated by the ride!”
“Would you rather drive me home, or not, Jack? We could easily say good-bye here. The street car line, only a block away, takes me right out home.” Betty would really have preferred to take the street car, but Jack vetoed that.