Betty saw for the first time Ted Dorrance, who was not acting at all as a senior whose heart was broken should act. With a group of senior boys he was laughing and talking at a table not far away. Betty wondered how it happened that they had had lunch at the same time, and while her eyes were turned in that direction, Ted saw her and gave her a gay salute. Poor boy, perhaps he was just putting on all that fun and was really feeling terrible about Louise. No—perhaps they had made up!
Lessons, lessons, lessons! How hard these first assignments seemed! Some of their teachers “had a heart,” as Dotty said, and others hadn’t the sign of one. Again they had to carry all their books around until lockers were assigned. Mathilde complained constantly, Betty thought; but Lucia, with a neat brief-case of leather, kept all her paraphernalia together and carried them around without a word. “Lucia Coletti is a good sport,” said Dotty Bradshaw.
Finally, toward the end of the week, Kathryn had a good opportunity to talk to Betty. It was on the street-car, but they had a back seat together and could talk in ordinary tones without being overheard. Both had errands down town, as it happened, and were to go down right after school to meet their mothers.
“Here you’ve kept me in suspense all week, Kathryn,” Betty accused her friend.
“I suppose you’ve laid awake nights over it, Betty.”
“Oh, yes, of course. My dear, I have laid awake a while over a lesson or two!”
“I’ve had reason enough to, but not I. When my head strikes the pillow not even anything Mathilde or anybody could say, to say nothing of mere lessons, could keep me awake!”
“By the way, is it clothes you’re going to see about this afternoon, Kathryn?”
“Yes. I’m going to get a hat and a dress, and look at coats.”
“Here, too, Kathryn, but I’ll wait to buy a coat till I see what you get, I think.”