“My mother was at school with Miss Murchison, I think,” Mathilde continued. “She will probably call upon the countess.”
“And you ought to go with her, Mathilde,” wickedly added Kathryn.
At this Betty jumped up. It would be better not to say anything more about her trip with the countess and her daughter and maids. Betty had learned since coming to the city that telling all you know, with perfect frankness, was not always wise. There were some understanding people, but also many others who were critical, or at least not at all appreciative. It was sometimes best not to satisfy curiosity or place yourself open to misunderstanding or criticism. It was a courteous Betty who said to Mathilde that she hoped she would enjoy being a sophomore “with the rest of us,” and to the rest she said she had too much to do at home to stay any longer.
“I’m suffering from an aching void, girls,” declared Dotty. “It’s past lunch time for me!”
“Come on home with me, Betty,” begged Kathryn.
“No, both you come with me,” said Carolyn. “I have an arrangement with Cook for a special lunch of something I adore.”
“Thank you, girls; I must get back to Mother, besides having a lot of things to see to. Just think, I haven’t seen my mother all summer, except just a little while this morning. I have to hear all about how my grandmother is, and Dick and Doris have actually grown this summer. I can see it, to say nothing of Amy Lou, who is peachier than ever.”
“You do love your family, don’t you, Betty Lee?” said Carolyn.
“I should think so!”
“Well, come along, Kathryn. Take pity on me and let’s have a good old visit together. Peggy, can’t you come, too?”