The weeks went by. Father’s little goldfish had passed the life-saving tests! She could also do some more diving “stunts” and in “endurance tests” was growing proficient. She was a candidate for more G. A. A. honors at the final award of honors. Hikes you would do anyway, of course. She tramped ten miles one day with a Lyon “Y” group whose leader became rather mixed as to route and the five-mile hike became ten. Oh, well, Betty said, it would count just that much more toward your points. But she had gotten some gravel in her shoes and limped for the rest of the week-end. Life was not always free from drawbacks!

School was nearly out. Betty Lee, junior, would soon be Betty Lee, senior. As usual, the girls “couldn’t realize it.” Some of them were going to attend summer school. Betty, still keeping on the honor roll, knew that there would be no necessity for her doing it; still if you were in the city, there might be something interesting to take. Yet there was always her violin to practice. She wanted to be a member of the “senior orchestra” next year as well as in the senior class, and that you won by ability, not by rank.

Of Jack Huxley she saw little. He was courteous enough to speak when they met and if they were unavoidably in a junior group together he was as friendly to Betty as to any one. But there was no waiting after school to see her. There were no invitations. And other matters occupied Betty’s thoughts.

“I don’t want to be inquisitive, or curious, Carolyn,” said Peggy Pollard one day to Carolyn Gwynne, “but don’t you imagine there must have been something in all that gossip about Jack Huxley’s party? I notice Betty and he haven’t been together any since. Did Betty ever tell you anything? Or isn’t it any of my affair?”

“Betty’s never said anything much about the party to me, Peggy, only that it was a big one and they had it all very ‘spuy’ there, dinner with lots of courses and everything. I really can’t remember what she did say. And was it after that Jack stopped being with Betty? He’s been around with Mathilde some, I know; but I thought it was because old Chet has been rushing Betty a lot. She was in that pretty Holland booth Mrs. Dorrance was running and you know we girls were all invited out there for a fete they had on her big lawn. But Peggy, I think it’s just as well for Betty to stick with the old crowd. Chet, too, will be in the university next year. He has to make hay while the sun shines. I feel sorry for Chet if Betty doesn’t like him as much as he likes her.”

“Don’t worry about Chet, Carolyn. Likely enough he’ll meet some girl at the university and Betty will be the one to miss our senior boys. I think I know one or two juniors, though, that won’t’ be so sorry when that bunch of boys has gone.”

“Of course. If they didn’t go, then we wouldn’t be seniors. I hope the teams won’t suffer.”

Baseball, the “senior exams,” the excitement of the approaching commencement, little social affairs of clubs and groups, more elaborate entertainments, assemblies in the auditorium that no one wanted to miss—all these and more filled the days.

There was a general rejoicing and excitement one day when great loads of handsome books were delivered at the school and a rush occurred at all possible moments to get a copy of the annual Lyon High Star. It was the custom to order the books in advance, as they were too expensive to have any copies left over. Not all felt that they could buy one, but those who did were generous with them and it was not unusual to see a group gathered around, peering over shoulders to look at the pictures of groups or individuals, taken some time back, when the camera men came out to the school.

Betty and Carolyn secured their copies among the first and plumped down in seats in the auditorium at the close of school to look at them. Mary Emma and Selma were standing behind them, bending over with interest; and not far away Chet and Budd were chuckling over a copy. Naturally, their own individual pictures with their class were of first interest. “Oh, Betty!” cried Mary Emma, “that isn’t half as pretty as you are, but it’s pretty good after all! And look at mine—there—on the same page. Isn’t that awful! I’m just smirking! Somebody had made me laugh and I was trying to get over it and just smile a little.”

“Wait till you see mine,” said Carolyn, “before you shed tears. I’m the crossest girl you ever saw, so far as mere looks are concerned.”

“Why, Caroline, you just look serious. Of course, you usually don’t, but what is a little thing like that?” This was Betty.

Exclamations and some laughter were the order of the next few minutes. Some of the teachers looked “wonderful” and others “you wouldn’t know at all.” But the book as a whole was eminently satisfactory, with its individual recognitions and personal history as well as the account of the year’s progress and activities. Betty would add hers to the other two reposing at home. One more would complete her high school record.

While they still looked at the book, Lucia Coletti opened the central auditorium door and looked in searchingly. “Oh, here you are, Betty. Peggy said that she thought you hadn’t left the building yet. I’ve something important to tell you, Betty. Can you come out to dinner with me? I can telephone home for you if you will. I can get the telephone in the office now. They said I could.”

Lucia’s voice was trembling with suppressed excitement, but the girls, still engaged in the pages Betty was turning, did not notice. Selma was talking to Mary Emma and some of the art work by the students themselves was being commented upon.

Betty handed the book to Selma. “You can finish looking at it, girls, and I’ll be in the hall as soon as I go to my locker a minute. All right, Lucia. Telephone, or get Mother on the line for me, if you like. I’d love to come.”

Betty fancied that there might be some development relative to the Sevillas, now comfortably settled. But she was mistaken. As the two girls left the high school building, Betty with her Star under her arm, Lucia in the lowest tones told her that she had received a telegram.

“It was telephoned out to school, addressed to me at Lyon High, and the office telephoned to the home room, you know, to have me stop after school. It isn’t signed by anything but an initial, but it is from my father. It was sent from New York. Here it is. You can read it in the car, but don’t say a word before the chauffeur.”

“Then your father is coming!” said Betty in a surprised whisper.

“Yes. I want you, because Mother has been sick all day, just worn out with all sorts of things, chiefly late hours and all the things that are going on. She is really better than she was yesterday, though. Now she might want me with her, and I must have somebody there that knows, so that one of us can be ready to—oh, well, with just the butler there he might send in a card and Mother wouldn’t see him or something. And she’s got to!”

Betty laughed a little at Lucia’s determination. But it was a matter of the most importance to her friend. “Good for you, Lucia. And I imagine if they once see each other——”

Betty broke off, for they had reached the waiting car which so often called for Lucia. She unfolded the piece of paper on which the telegram had been copied down as dictated over the telephone. “Coming. Beach house about six. Surprise. X.” The periods were represented by the customary “stop.”

“I can’t imagine a certain person’s arriving anywhere that early in the morning,” said Lucia, “so it’s tonight.”

“In that case, Lucia, I may not stay to dinner. I’d be a fifth wheel, but oh, I’m so glad.”

It was no time before the girls were at the Murchison door. Betty made herself at home in Lucia’s room while Lucia went to see her mother, the “X” of the telegram, who was to be surprised. Doubtless that was only intended as a public caution, designed to prevent the telegram’s being relayed home.

Lucia came back in high spirits. “You ought to see my mother,” said she. “She’s up and in the most adorable negligee you can imagine. She may dress for dinner. Uncle is to be late. It couldn’t happen better. Now if the ‘long-absent’ Count Coletti is only on time! Mother was so mad at that in the paper once.”

Lucia’s dark eyes sparkled and her cheeks were hot. Betty said a little prayer in her heart that her friend might not be disappointed with the result. “Mother’s been desperately lonely and restless lately and has been on the go nearly all the time,” continued Lucia. “Come on; we’ll go downstairs and wait. You must be right there and don’t stop keeping an ear open for the door, if I’m called to Mother or for anything else. Sometimes the housekeeper wants to see me if she can’t disturb Mother.”

This was all very thrilling. Lucia could not keep still or very far away from the front window. At the sound of an automobile on the drive, both girls went to the window. It might be Mr. Murchison, of course, or almost anybody. But no. “It’s a taxi,” Lucia tensely whispered.

On it came, stopping before the entrance. The driver descended from his seat and opened the door. There was a little delay as the passenger was paying before leaving the taxi. The driver was receiving a bill, which must have included a good tip, from the impressive manner and extreme courtesy which followed on the part of the driver. He took out two grips and stood aside to let a slight, distinguished-looking man pass him and go up the steps. He followed, but Betty saw that the butler had opened the door to go out.

Lucia had waited only to see who stepped from the taxi. She was out into the hall, down the steps and in the arms of a surprised father before one would have thought she could reach him. The butler, too, was smiling and welcoming the count. “Why, he was probably here when they were married,” thought Betty. “Of course, but Lucia had never thought of it!”

Invited to have a share in this arrival, Betty felt quite justified as she happily watched from the window seat, having a good view from the windows that projected in a sort of rectangular recess at the part of the room nearest the hall.

The door into the hall stood open, but Betty did not come into sight as they entered from without. She wondered if there would be any delay. Would the count go straight to his wife’s room? What would happen? She could hear the rapid Italian in which Lucia and her father were speaking. The butler spoke in his accustomed low tones, but with some excitement, too. It was being explained to him. Then up the stairs Lucia and her father went, the butler following with the grips. It was probably the intention to take the count to the proper guest room first, but a door opened and the Countess Coletti asked, “Lucia, who came?” as Lucia was in the lead of the silently coming party.

Then the countess caught sight of her husband. “Oh, my dear, my dear!” And the rest was in Italian. In the tenderest of tones the count was addressing his wife.

Lucia came rushing down the stairs to throw herself upon Betty and cry. “Oh, I can’t help it, Betty!” she cried between little sobs. “It is all right at last! She was glad to see him and he just gathered her up in his arms! I think she is crying, too!”

It took Lucia only a few minutes to gain her self-possession and explain further. “My father says he has come to ‘get us,’ as you said, Betty, but he will stay a while if it is all right with Uncle to let me finish my school. He told me that right away. But the main thing was to find out whether Mother would receive him or not. Of course, we could not mention that before the butler. He knew my father. Wasn’t that nice?”

Betty was merely a happy spectator, but Lucia would not let her go, and when at last, after she had been called to her mother’s room for a small family reunion and had come back to Betty a thoroughly happy girl again, she ran to meet her uncle, who came in just then. “Oh Uncle!” she cried, “my father, the Count Coletti, is here!” How proudly Lucia spoke, and there was a little of question in her voice.

“Thank heaven!” replied her uncle, of whose reception of her father she had been so doubtful. “It is high time! I hope he can manage her. It’s beyond me.” But Betty knew that Mr. Murchison was laughing as he spoke. “Tell him that we’ll kill the fatted calf. Have you told the housekeeper?”

“I never thought of it, but the butler knows and he does everything or sees to it, you know.”

And at dinner, when Betty had met the count and he had told her that he already knew her as his daughter’s best friend, one little speech of the countess amused her very much.

“Think, Buddy,” she said using the old term of her childhood for her brother, “think, Buddy, what a social asset he’ll be while we stay!” And with perfect understanding now, Count Coletti looked at his wife and smiled with the rest.

In the course of the conversation, which consisted chiefly in drawing out details of Count Coletti’s African experiences, it was hinted that Lucia might return after a summer in Switzerland to finish her course in the American high school. Betty modestly expressed herself as hoping that she would, and the countess said, “We shall see.”

Truly life was full of thrills to Betty Lee. There was still school to be completed. Chet would get his diploma; and should she have some little remembrance for Chet in honor of his graduation, or not? She would ask her mother. One more year and she would have a diploma, too! But first she had to be Betty Lee, senior.