Betty Vivian Part 33

Olive, the Bertrams, Susie, Martha, Margaret herself, looked full of trouble. f.a.n.n.y's cheeks were pink with excitement. She had never liked Betty. In her heart of hearts she knew that she was full of uncharitable thoughts against her own cousin. And how was it, notwithstanding Betty's ign.o.ble confession, the other girls still loved her?

"What do you intend to do, supposing she does not confess?" said f.a.n.n.y after a pause.

"In that case," answered Margaret, "having due regard to the rules of the club, I fear we have no alternative--she must resign her membership, she must cease to be a Speciality. We shall miss her, and beyond doubt we shall still love her. But she must not continue to be a Speciality unless she restores the packet."

f.a.n.n.y simulated a slight yawn. She knew well that Betty's days as a Speciality were numbered.

"She was so brilliant, so vivid!" exclaimed Susie.

"There was no one like her," said Olive, "for suggesting all kinds of lovely things. And then her story-telling--wasn't she just glorious!"

"We mustn't think of any of those things," said Margaret. "But I think we may all pray--yes, pray--for Betty herself. I, for one, love her dearly. I love her notwithstanding what she said to-night."

"I think it was uncommonly plucky of her to stand up and tell us what she did," remarked Martha, speaking for the first time. "She needn't have done it, you know. It was entirely a case of conscience."

"Yes, that is it; it was fine of her," said Margaret. "Now, girls, suppose we have a Speciality meeting to-morrow night? You know by our rules we are allowed to have particular meetings. I will give my room for the purpose; and suppose we ask Betty to join us there?"

"Agreed!" said they all; and after a little more conversation the Specialities separated, having no room in their hearts for games or any other frivolous nonsense that evening.

CHAPTER XVI

AFTERWARDS

When Betty had made her confession, and had left Susie Rushworth's room, she went straight to bed; she went without leave, and dropped immediately into profound slumber. When she awoke in the morning her head felt clear and light, and she experienced a sense of rejoicing at what she had done.

"I have told them, and they know," she said to herself. "I have given them the whole story in a nutsh.e.l.l. I don't really care what follows."

Mingled with her feeling of rejoicing was a curious sense of defiance.

Her sisters asked her what was the matter. She said "Nothing." They remarked on her sound sleep of the night before, on the early time she had retired from the Specialities' meeting. They again ventured to ask if anything was the matter. She said "No."

Then Sylvia began to break a very painful piece of information: "d.i.c.kie's gone!"

"Oh," said Betty, her eyes flashing with anger, "how can you possibly have been so careless as to let the spider loose?"

"He found a little hole just above the door in the attic, and crept into it, and we couldn't get him out," said Sylvia.

"No, he wouldn't come out," added Hetty, "though we climbed on two chairs, one on top of the other, and poked at him with a bit of stick."

"Oh, I dare say he's all right now," said Betty. "You will probably find him again to-day. He's sure to come for his raw meat."

"But don't you care, Bet? Won't it be truly awful if our own d.i.c.kie is dead?"

"Dead! He won't die," said Betty; "but there's quite a possibility he may frighten some one. I know one person I'd like to frighten."

"Oh Bet, who do you mean?"

"That horrid girl--that cousin of ours, f.a.n.n.y Crawford."

"We don't like her either," said the twins.

"She'd be scared to death at d.i.c.kie," said Betty. "She's a rare old coward, you know. But never mind, don't bother; you'll probably find him this morning when you go up with his raw meat. He's sure to come out of his hole in order to get his food."

"I don't think so," said Hester in a gloomy voice; "for there are lots and lots of flies in that attic, and d.i.c.kie will eat them and think them nicer than raw meat."

"Well, it's time to go downstairs now," said Betty.

She was very lively and bright at her lessons all day, and forgot d.i.c.kie in the other cares which engrossed her mind. That said mind was in a most curious state. She was at once greatly relieved and rebellious.

Sylvia and Hetty watched her, when they could, from afar. Betty's life as a member of the Specialities separated her a good deal from her sisters. She seldom saw them during the working-hours; but they were quite happy, for they had made some friends for themselves, and the three were always together at night. Betty was not specially reproachful of herself on their account. She could not help being cleverer than they, more brilliant, more able on all occasions to leap to a right conclusion--to discover the meaning of each involved mystery as it was presented to her. All the teachers remarked on her great intelligence, on her curious and wonderful gift for dramatization. The girls in her form were expected once a week to recite from Shakespeare; and Betty's recitations were sufficiently striking to arrest the attention of the entire room. She flung herself into the part. She was Desdemona, she was Portia, she was Rosalind. She was whatever character she wished to personate. Once she chose that of Shylock; and most uncanny became the expression of her face, and her words were hurled forth with a defiance worthy of the immortal Jew.

All these things made Betty a great favorite with the teachers as well as with the girls. She was, as a rule, neither cross nor bad-tempered.

She was not vain for her gifts. She was always ready to help the others by every means in her power.

During recess that day Betty received a small three-cornered note in Margaret Grant's handwriting. She opened it, and saw that it was a brief request that she, Betty Vivian, should meet Margaret and the other members of the Speciality Club in Margaret's room at half-past seven that evening. "Our meeting will be quite informal, but we earnestly beg for your attendance."

Betty slipped the note into her pocket. As she did so she observed that f.a.n.n.y Crawford's eyes were fixed on her.

"Are you going to attend?" asked f.a.n.n.y.

"You will know," replied Betty, "when you go into the room to-night at half-past seven and find me there or not there. Surely that is enough for you!"

"Thanks!" replied f.a.n.n.y. Then, summoning a certain degree of courage, she came a step nearer. "Betty, if I might consult with you, if I might warn you----"

"But as you may not consult with me, and as you may not warn me, there is nothing to be done, is there?" said Betty. "Hallo!" she cried the next minute, as a schoolgirl whose friendship she had made during the last day or two appeared in sight, "I want to have a word with you, Jessie. Forgive me, Fan; I am very much occupied just at present."

"Her fall is certain," thought f.a.n.n.y to herself. "I wonder how she will like what lies before her to-night. I at least have done my best."

Punctual to the hour, the Specialities met in Margaret's room. There was no supper on this occasion, nor any appearance of festivity. The pretty flowers which Margaret usually favored were conspicuous by their absence. Even the electric light was used but sparingly. None of the girls dressed for this evening, but wore their usual afternoon frocks.

Betty, however, wore white, and walked into the room with her head well erect and her step firm.

"Sit down, Betty, won't you?" said Margaret.

"Thanks, Margaret!" answered Betty; and she sank into a chair. She chose one that was in such a position that she could face the six girls who were now prepared to judge her on her own merits. She looked at them very quietly. Her face was pale, and her eyes not as bright as usual.

"I am deputed by the others to speak to you, Betty," said Margaret. "We will make no comment whatsoever with regard to what you told us last night. It isn't for us to punish you for having told a lie. We have ourselves done very wrong in our lives, and we doubtless have not been tempted as you have been; and then, Betty Vivian, I can a.s.sure you that, although you have been but a short time in the school, we all--I think I may say all--love you."

Betty's eyes softened. She hitched her chair round a little, so that she no longer saw f.a.n.n.y, but could look at Margaret Grant and Martha West, who were sitting side by side. Susie's pretty face was fairly shining with eagerness, and Olive's eyes were full of tears. The Bertrams clasped each other's hands, and but for Margaret's restraining presence would have rushed to Betty's there and then and embraced her.

"But," said Margaret, "although we do love you--and I think will always love you, Betty--we must do our duty by the club. You confessed a sin to us--not at the time, as you ought to have done, but later on. No one compelled you to confess what you did last night. There was no outside pressure brought to bear on you. It must have been your conscience."

"I told you so," said Betty.

"Therefore," continued Margaret, "your conscience must be very wide-awake, Betty, and you have done--well, so far--very n.o.bly; so n.o.bly that nothing will induce us to ask you to withdraw from our club, provided----"

Betty's eyes brightened, and some of the tension in her face relaxed.