“I remember how seriously I took everything last year,” said Betty, “and it was sensible. But I’m going to join anything I like this year; and if it doesn’t work, all you have to do is to stop.”
“Not to break up a team, though, Betty.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that, and I like to do anything pretty thoroughly, too. All right, I’ll see about it.”
“’Lo, Betty,” said some one else.
Selma and Betty were mounting the steps of the school now, near the entrance, where pupils were going in and groups of others stood about. This was Mathilde Finn, who detached herself from one of the groups and came toward the two girls. “Bye,” immediately said Selma, whisking into the building as some one pushed open the heavy doors before her.
“Going to wait for Lucia Coletti?” asked Mathilde.
“No; she knows how to get to the home room now,” answered Betty. “Anything I can do for you?” Betty smiled pleasantly, though she intended to be a little reserved with Mathilde. From all she had heard, she did not have the greatest confidence in Mathilde’s sincerity. But Betty was always glad to be on a friendly footing with other girls. She did “hate” disagreeable undercurrents, though one could not always avoid them.
“You are a bit new yourself, aren’t you?” Betty continued.
“Oh, yes, but not like Lucia, and my work was all fixed up in plenty of time. I do feel strange in a public school and I can’t say that I like it now; but if Lucia can stand it, I think I can. You don’t have to know everybody, of course. Some of the boys and girls are too common—for words!”
That speech grated on Betty. “Perhaps so,” she answered, “but a lot of them are as fine as can be. Besides, we have to live in the world with everybody, don’t we? And I haven’t seen anybody here that wasn’t nice—well, hardly. But the boys and girls that won’t work or keep the rules get sent out.”