Betty Lee, Sophomore

by Harriet Pyne Grove

“I’ll tell you in plenty of time. I want it a real party and I’m going to invite Lucia, of course, so it must make a good impression on our lady from the Italian nobility.”

“Lucia won’t be critical, Kathryn. She said that she liked you. You were ‘so sincere.’”

“Did she? I like Lucia, too, though some things made me a little tired at first.”

“Just think of the handicap, Kathryn, of not being born an American!” Betty was grinning, but she really felt that Lucia had not had a fair chance to be like a girl who was born in the “land of the free.” This was a phase that had crept out with Lucia a time or two in her contact with other girls and had amused that daughter of the Caesars as much as a few of her ways amused the American girls. But they were meeting on common ground in the school room and in the case of the few girls of whom Lucia was becoming fond, friendly adjustments were easy to make.

The matter of being acquainted with boys was natural enough in a large high school, and a large residence district as good as that from which Lyon High drew most of its attendance supplied children of some of the city’s best citizens. It was not very likely that boys attracted to Betty and Kathryn would not have a good background, to say the least. Many of them they had known all through their freshman year. What Betty did not know was that Chet Dorrance was at present going out of his way just to pass Betty in the hall, whether he had an opportunity to speak to her or not. In a class or two in which both recited, he never stared directly at her, but one corner of his eye knew where Betty was and what she was doing. It was his first attack and very acute, Ted would have said. Chet, however, was good at concealing his feelings and would not have had the boys guess how much he liked Betty. Of course, they teased him a little for “hanging around,” but Chet, with apparent candor, said that he liked “that bunch of girls” and didn’t care who knew it. “You have to have a little social life,” said he. “It’s a poor sophomore that can’t take a girl out once in a while.”

If it had been Ted, Chet’s brother, now, Betty might have been thrilled a little at the frequent meetings and all the excuses that Chet made to speak to her about this or that. But Betty was demurely responsive, or pleasant, interested in what Chet had to say, but not including him in any of her dreams. Chet wasn’t the Prince Charming by any means. Yet Chet would be that to some one, doubtless, one of these days.

The names of the basketball squads were posted, that of the freshmen having more extras than those of the other classes. The sophomores now had only a few more than the two “teams.” Betty found that she was a good deal more excited over the coming contests than she had expected to be, since so much responsibility for whipping the sophomore team into shape rested upon her.

Dates of games to be played in the girls’ gym were also posted, another spur to excellence. Kathryn postponed her party because of the necessity for strenuous practice, but said that she would have one to celebrate, when the sophomores “beat the championship game.” Betty told her that too much confidence was a “hoo-doo,” but Kathryn told her that determination to beat was “one of the greatest assets” a team could have.

Betty, Kathryn and Carolyn had a front seat at the first game of the contest, played between the seniors and freshmen. It would have been hard to say which were the more excited, the busy players or the rooters who were girls expecting to meet the two classes they were watching, in a future game.

“Watch that freshman guarding, Betty. She’s rough. We’ll look out for her and see that nothing is done that isn’t seen! Say—that was a good play! Did you see that?”