The delightful but irregular and rather upsetting vacation of the Christmas holidays soon became a memory. It must be said that Mrs. Lee drew a sigh of relief when the children were all back in school and hours became regular again without the parties and entertainments, glad as she was to have her children enjoy them. They went through these carefree and youthful days but once. If she could guide and guard them it was enough.

Betty declared to Lucia that the face at the window haunted her. She had “half a notion” to call there and see who was so unhappy. But Mrs. Lee was doubtful of the wisdom of such a call and advised Betty to find out something about the handsome girl from some social worker of the neighborhood. And Betty thought she would take her mother’s suggestion. Yet when was there “time for anything?”

“Mid-years,” the semester examinations, were approaching. Betty was glad that she had studied her lessons at the proper time. She followed the reviews and “crammed” a little on the side, on lines where she was not as sure; but she did not worry as some more nervous girls seemed to do. Peggy Pollard said that she was sitting up nights on Math, and Mathilde Finn looked worried, which was something for Mathilde to do over lessons. Several of the “very nicest” junior girls were being tutored and Miss Heath sacrificed her time and strength to hold a review class after school for some of her pupils who were “shaky,” as Miss Heath told Betty.

“Oh, I’d love to come in, Miss Heath, to review. Could I?” asked Betty.

“You do not need it, Betty, and you would be wasting time. Besides, it is not in Cicero.”

That settled the class question. Betty did need time, though there was little to do now in the girl reserve work, for the committees handled the programs and Betty had little to do except to preside at the meetings. Orchestra practice was interesting, if exacting, and Betty was “crazy about” the Dramatic Club. Basketball practice was going on, but Mr. Lee had asked Betty not to be on the team which played the competitive class games.

It was a disappointment to Betty and she argued at some length, though respectfully, with her father. Her father was “such a dear” and “always let you say anything you wanted to on your side,” she told Carolyn Gwynne.

“Here I like athletics almost better than anything,” said Betty, “and want to get honors, and Father won’t let me play! It was getting hurt that time, Carolyn, that did it. I told him that it was only a practice game and that I might get hurt just playing—anything. He acknowledged that what I said was so, but I know he thinks I won’t play so often if I can’t be on the regular teams. He tells me to continue being his little fish in swimming and when I said that I didn’t like the expression, he said ‘Be a mermaid, then—a siren, and lure your cruel father to the rocks.’”

“And what do you think Mother put in? She was listening to our argument and hadn’t said a word, but now she said, ‘financial rocks, Father!’ And that was because we had been talking about the clothes Doris and I need for spring.”

Carolyn laughed and asked when Betty was hurt. “I don’t seem to remember it, Betty.”

“It wasn’t anything! I got knocked down and twisted something or other, sort of a sprain, and hobbled around for a week or so. The worst was over a week-end and Father had a doctor to look at my ankle.”

“Oh, yes. I do seem to remember your limping a little one time. Well, the girls will be disappointed and I know they’re worrying for fear Mathilde will be captain.”

“How can she, if they don’t want her?”

“Mathilde is an awfully good player now and stands in with the teacher that has charge this year and she’ll work it some way—she has influence with some of the girls.”

“Yes,” thoughtfully Betty returned. “That makes me feel better about it, though. I’ve been too rushed to pay much attention to ‘politics.’ And I thought a different girl wanted it.”

“How in the world does that make you feel better, Betty?”

“Because I wouldn’t want to fight to be captain or anything. Some of the girls took it for granted that I would be captain, and I was silly enough to believe that perhaps I could be. You noticed what the school paper said, didn’t you?”

“Yes. You got quite a puff on your athletics, Betty. ‘With Betty Lee at the head of the junior team, that unusual class is likely to carry off the honors in basketball this year.’ Aha! No wonder you felt like arguing the matter with your father! Can’t you persuade him? It isn’t too late yet.”

“Perhaps I could get his consent, Carolyn; but I know that it will worry him and after all, it is a strain, though so awfully exciting and jolly. If Mathilde wants it, let her have it. The only thing about Mathilde is that she isn’t fair and will take any advantage that she can. We could easily lose games that way, Carolyn, even if she is a good player.”

“We certainly could, and crede mihi, Betty, I’m going to see if we can’t get somebody else for captain.”

“Fine! I’ll support you, Carolyn, in anything you start, only I can’t play on the team myself.”

“Worse luck!” But Carolyn laughed. “I ’spect you’re safer to do what your father wants you to do, and you can’t do everything, crede mihi!”

“‘Crede mihi’—I can’t,” laughed Betty. “Do you suppose ‘mihi’ ought to come before ‘crede’? Oh, yes, imperative first!”

“‘O tempora, o mores!’” replied Carolyn, grinning. “Yes, don’t you remember we looked it up in the vocabulary, after we found it somewhere and then couldn’t find it again? If ‘take my word for it’ isn’t enough like ‘believe me’ then I can’t read Cicero!”

This conversation took place long before “mid-years,” as may be gathered from the fact that basketball was in the early stages. Betty’s special friends had been looking up a few Latin phrases to take the place of slang expressions which their English teacher was urging her pupils to drop, telling them that they would soon think in no other terms. Home influences, however, kept Betty and most of these girl from taking on the coarser expressions which they heard from some of their acquaintances.

Started in this way, it became fun to take out of Cicero, orations or elsewhere, little phrases like ubi est? or Quid loquor?

Quid agis?—O miserabile me!—horribile dictu—age vero—da operam, and other expressions all had possibilities, though sometimes, it must be said that the old Romans would not have recognized some of the uses to which their language was applied. But it was all a part of the very active and happy life led by Betty Lee junior at Lyon High.

Mr. Lee had not asked Betty to curtail any of her pleasures without good reason. Betty’s parents had noted certain effects in the previous year which did not seem good, chief of which was a temporary suffering of Betty’s work during the basketball season and her being more or less nervous and under a strain. Then, as Mrs. Lee watched several games, she saw the possibility of accident in the fast playing, and as Betty thought, the small injury was the final argument.

But this curtailment left Betty more free for other lines of work and her time was too full for many regrets. It was rather pleasant, to be sure, to have certain girls exclaim over her defection and prophesy dire results to the team. And Betty was big enough at heart to be honestly glad when the juniors under Mathilde played well, winning over all the classes except the seniors. There at last came their Waterloo. For the seniors had previous defeat to wipe out. They had the best team that they had ever had in basketball. The girls of that class had never been particularly noted in athletic lines, but as Kathryn declared, they had concentrated on basketball “to beat us.” And beat the juniors they did.

The school paper came out with big headlines over the result. The seniors chortled. Chet at first avoided any comment when with Betty, but his eyes twinkled when she congratulated him as a member of the class. “The girls have been very sure they would win over your class ever since you refused to be captain, Betty.”

“Nice suggestion, Chet, but I didn’t refuse to be captain and perhaps I couldn’t have been even if I hadn’t dropped out of the games. Besides, Mathilde is as good as I am.”

“You go too far to be honest, Betty. Sure I know all about that; but it’s more than likely that you would have led your girls to victory. Our girls had a lot of confidence, besides having practiced like mad. Your girls played well, but they lacked that punch to put it over when they had a little bad luck. And they didn’t trust Mathilde as they would have trusted you. It’s funny, but there is a lot in the psychology of a game. It isn’t just good playing.”

“My, Chet! Where do you get ‘psychology?’ Is Ted taking it at the University?” Betty was laughing.

“I reckon! But I get it out of the athletics in the paper. I read the reports of the big games, you see.”

“I suppose so. I only look to see which teams beat. Dick’s the one at our house who reads the sport page.”