“How interesting,” murmured Betty, annoyed, to be sure, but a little amused, too. “No—Chet and I will always be the best of friends, I think, but it’s only natural that we should not be together so much now. I think I know the girl you mean. There were a lot of us on a picnic together the other day.” Blessings on that recent picnic, Betty thought. She really did not enjoy having Mathilde “crow over her,” and she knew that before the conversation ended, Mathilde would try to worm the last detail of that picnic and who were there out of her. As if uninterested in telling any more, she pleasantly answered the rest of the questions, for with some people, Betty could be “diplomatic,” too.
In the comforting assurance that everything would be “all right” when Larry came, Betty laid aside her happy dreams of the future to work hard just before the “senior exams.” One scholarship prize she would win, if possible, and she was not going to have it said that a girl prominent in athletics could not get her lessons. As a senior, she could not play with the orchestra at Commencement. Freedom from practice there was one gain, though arrangements for the G. A. A. banquet lay partly on the shoulders of the president.
At last the examinations were over. Class day was ushered in with sunshine and entire relief from lessons. Betty was not even in the pretty Maypole dance or any of the stunts, but with some regrets she formed a part of the senior parade and carried her part of the long, long rope of living green and twining flowers that marked the senior class. As she followed the rest along the track of the athletic field before the big stadium she tried not to let herself think that “all these good times” were over, but she winked more than once, to keep a tear from forming. One big chapter in her life was closing, and Betty vaguely realized it.
But her mother was in the stadium to hear the brief program and to see Betty come forward not only for her Latin prize from Miss Heath, but for another, given to each of the three best Latin students in the entire senior class.
And afterwards, when the class had its own private meeting there was nothing but fun for Betty. The class prophet foretold a wonderful athletic future for Betty as the world’s champion swimmer. “As Lindy was the first to fly alone, so Betty Lee is to be the first swimmer to cross the Atlantic!”
“How about the sharks?” someone asked, but was frowned upon by the speaker of the day.
CHAPTER XX
TROPHIES
Was it herself? So thought Betty once during the G. A. A. banquet which was such an important occasion to its president.
There was the buzz of conversation, the tinkle of some bit of silver, the subdued laughter of some prettily dressed girl, or other natural accompaniment of a meal. Students, guests and teachers sat about the long, flower-decked tables in the familiar lunch room, arranged for the occasion, and were engaged in the pleasant pastime of disposing of an excellent banquet menu’s offerings.
But Betty’s chief thoughts were upon her little speech of welcome, with which the program was to be opened. She sat at the speakers’ table, in the line of those who were to give toasts or present awards. Rather overcome at first by being next to the principal himself, Betty faced her G. A. A. world and glanced from time to time at her notes, concealed from view in her program. She had attended more than one G. A. A. banquet, but it was the first time that she had borne any responsibility.