Her mind was now at rest upon her future "career." She had quite determined to be a second Madam S—— with this sole difference in their lives—Madam S—— faced the world at her street corner at the age of eight, and Betty was not beginning till she was "twelve and a bit."
Still, she had a few worries.
She was worried over John—lest he should have gone and left her; and she was worried over the great question, "What song to sing?" as many singers have been before.
She had thought of "God save the Queen," but the words did not fulfil all requirements, while "Please give me a penny, sir"—that song she had found among a heap of yellow old ones with her mother's name—maiden name, Dorothea Carew—upon them, seemed to have been written just for the occasion. The only pity was, that whereas Betty knew "God Save the Queen" perfectly, "Please give me a penny, sir" was almost a stranger to her.
She had learnt a verse of it on Saturday night when she ought to have been doing her arithmetic; and on Sunday evening she had coaxed her mother to the piano, and begged her to sing "just this one song, please." Her mother sang very prettily—like Dot—and she had thrown a good deal of pathos into the old song, so that Betty's ambition was fired, and she had almost decided upon the song straightaway.
This morning she arrived at school flushed and hot, before either Cyril or Nancy, and she began at once to explore the playground for John Brown the artist. Two little lines of boys and girls were playing a sober game of French and English away under the gum trees, and Betty ran her eyes along the lines—but no John Brown was there.
Two boys were skirmishing just behind the cloak-room, but neither of them was John Brown. Five were playing "leap frog," but John Brown was not there. One sat on the doorstep learning a lesson, but that was only Artie Jones.
Then a motley crowd of boys and girls came trailing in at the gate, and the bell began to ring.
Betty drew into the shadow of the new wing, the "Babies' Wing," and scanned the new arrivals eagerly.
Fat Nellie Underwood gave her a bunch of jonquils and fell into line to march into the schoolroom. Minute Hetty Ferguson begged to be allowed to do her hair in the dinner-hour. "Please, Betty dear," she urged. But Betty was looking for John and did not heed.