Considering what had happened some weeks before, Betty thought it one of the most important moments of her life when she was called to the telephone a day or so after her visit at Lucia’s and heard Marcella Waite’s voice at the other end of the wire.

“Betty?” inquired Marcella.

“Yes.”

“Oh, I am in sackcloth and ashes, Betty, and I hope that you can forgive me. Listen. Two weeks ago or so, I had a letter from Larry, a short one, such as he writes to his relatives, and in it he asked me if Betty Lee were sick. He said that he had written you after his hasty leaving at the party—you remember?”

“Yes,” said Betty, who after the first gasp of astonishment, which Marcella could not have heard, had had time to recover herself. (Larry had written! And she certainly did remember.)

“Well, I forgot all about it—I’m living in such a rush, and you will understand, I’m sure, since you are in a rush yourself as a senior.”

“Of course, Marcella.” Betty was cordial. She could forgive anything. Larry had written.

“So I didn’t even answer his letter—he waits for ages sometimes; and I supposed if he’d written to you, you’d gotten the letter and answered it, if it called for an answer.”

“No, I have not heard from Larry at all, Marcella.”

“Yes? It dawned on me, Betty, after I received a special delivery letter this afternoon. I’m going down town for dinner with some girls and I’ll stop with his letter. I’m sending him a special delivery letter and I’ll put in, shall I—that you haven’t received a word from him?”

“Certainly, Marcella,” replied Betty, wondering what Larry had written.

“The letter will give you the facts, Betty. I’m writing an abject apology, but reminding him of certain delays on his side. If I’d had any idea that—well—see you later. ’Bye.”

About four o’clock, just as Betty was feeling that she could not wait any longer, a car stopped in front of the house and Marcella flew up the walk to the steps, where Betty met her with smiles. “I thought you would be in a hurry, Marcella. Thank you so much for bringing this. I did wonder not to have heard, since Larry spoke of writing.”

Marcella gave her a meaning glance. “Well, for my sake, be nice to Larry, when you do hear from him, and answer!”

“I will,” promised Betty. It was just as well, she thought, that Marcella would never know the heart-aches she had had over the missing letter. What could have become of it? And why hadn’t Larry written again? No, he would think she didn’t care.

Betty flew to the privacy of her room. Larry’s letter was brief but very much to the point. “Respected Sister,” he began. “In view of what I said to you on the evening of your party, it might have occurred to you that my question about Betty Lee was important. I enclose addressed envelope with special delivery stamps. Please reply at once. Is Betty sick? Have you seen her? Can you suggest any reason why she should not reply? The first letter was rather important because it explained something. I also wrote a card, inquiring, after I had not heard. Still no reply. Could I have offended her? But it is not like her—not to show the courtesy of a reply.” That was all except his “as ever, Larry.”

Betty looked out of the window over the ravine, straight at a nest which a little bird was building, and she never saw it! Her heart’s impulse was to write to Larry at once. But that would not do at all. Marcella’s letter would carry the news. She had seen some mail in Marcella’s hand. She was, doubtless, going to mail it at the general post office instead of at the nearest station. Larry would know very soon.

Then Betty did a funny thing, “silly,” she told herself. She opened her top drawer and from a box she took the little heart. On it she laid her cheek a moment, then slipped it within the scented sachet cover in which it had been accustomed to rest under her pillow. It was all right. Larry cared. He was true and good. Now she could enjoy the rest of her senior year. It would have been much more comfortable if she had not cared herself; but since she did, it was nice that Larry cared, too—some, at least.

Sedately Betty walked downstairs, but just then Doris sat down at the piano and began a gay, jazzy tune. “See if you could ‘tap’ it off to this, Betty,” cried she. “I’ve got to play for some of them tomorrow in a show we’re getting up—a sophomore jazz-fest.” And Betty’s feet celebrated her restlessness, while Dick came in—to execute a sort of clog dance, and Mr. Lee, just home, stood laughing in the doorway.

“What’s this?” he asked, “my house turned into a vaudeville stage?”

“Don’t worry, Father,” breathlessly replied Betty, stopping to throw herself into a chair. “We’ve only been working off some of our extra steam!”

Betty found it hard to study that evening, but for the next few days she threw herself into school work with great zeal. “When has Betty been so gay?” asked Mary Emma Howland.

“Spring has ‘CAME,’ Mary Emma,” declared Betty, in reply.

Next came the expected note from Larry. Betty found it waiting when she came from school and held it, almost too carelessly, with some other mail, invitations, she thought, from Janet and Sue, to their early Commencement. She visited and chatted with some friends of her sister’s, with whom she and Doris had come from high school. Then they went into the kitchen with Doris to make fudge, and Betty could slip away to her room.

It is needless to say that the mail from Buxton went unopened until she should read the message from New Haven.

“I have only just found out,” wrote Larry, “that you have not received a letter and a later note which I wrote you. I can not understand what has become of them and I am trying to find out. But I hasten to tell you, meanwhile, that I wrote, as I said I would, and I know that you must have thought me—well, I don’t know what you must have thought, if you thought of me at all!

“I have been anxiously waiting a reply from you, wondering, thinking that you were sick, or offended—about that at the last, you know. Yet I felt that you would have written me some sort of a reply, if only out of courtesy. Now Marcella writes me that you have not heard from me at all.

“I shall write in full again, but hurry this off at once. This is only to say that what I said to you at that last short moment was only too true for my peace of mind and that my missing letter went into matters between us. My Commencement comes shortly before yours, I believe, and I expect to be home to see the sweet girl graduate receive her diploma. Do I dare to hope that she will be glad to see me?”

The heart of that sweet girl graduate was thrilling over Larry’s letter then. Yes. She would be glad to see Larry, without a doubt. So he had meant it. What difference did it make about lost letters now? Yet—she would enjoy knowing just what had been in that first message.

School would go on, of course, no matter what interesting and important things were happening outside. Betty managed to concentrate on her lessons now. Those senior examinations! Then “at last” the expected letter came:

“Dear Valentine Lady:

“I am seeing you as you looked in the library that night. No wonder my resolution failed me. But since you are not offended, I am not sorry. Your note assuring me of that fact came promptly and relieved my very much disturbed feelings. Thank you, dear girl. So far there is no trace of the letter. Judd declares that he mailed all the letters he carried to the post that day. There is no one at your end of the route that would be interested in holding back a letter from me, I am sure. We can let it go, and since I am to see you so soon, I shall not write, or try to remember all the details I mentioned in that missive. But there were one or two important points that I think I’d better mention.

“The first is that I have been interested in you, Betty, for a long time. But after that first meeting, when I found how very, very young you were, I decided that a love affair might better be postponed, if there were any chance of one with you. I have had little of what is called college society here, for reasons that I will mention in a moment. I have been a busy fellow all through the university, with most of my recreation with the fellows, as we say.

“Of course, every time I saw you, I was tempted to begin a courtship. It was good, but harrowing last summer to be with you, and to tell the truth, it was when I got to thinking that those other youngsters whom you knew so well would perhaps carry you off after all, that is, some one of them—one in particular—well, that is what brought me flying, after my valentine. And with your looking like a young lady of the olden time, so sweet and lovely, it quite finished me.

“If the circumstances were ordinary, Betty, I would merely start in to win your love, with no explanation. But you probably do not remember stating, in some conversation with the other girls on the boat last summer, that your parents would never hear to an engagement while you were in high school and that you would have to be ‘awfully in love’ to go against anything they wanted or did not want. I could not blame them, though for a girl not yet eighteen you seem mature and able to choose whom you like. But of course I am no cool-headed parent on this question! I’m not on their side of the argument at all! But that is why I am not going to ask you for a pledge when I come. I am going to ask you for permission to win your love if I can and to find out how your heart does stand on that important point. Then I am going to see all I can of you, unless I find that you—I am not sure, though, that I could keep away from you under any circumstances. There might be some chance that you could learn to like me enough.

“The other matter that has made me hesitate is what I will tell you more about. Please do not mention this to Marcella, but the business my father is in may go on the rocks. He has not said a word about it at home. Money is still available, you understand, and my father’s income so far is not materially lessened. So we are letting things go on as usual, with Marcella having a great time in school and entertaining as she does. I sold the small yacht we had on the excuse that it was old and a good opportunity offered, which was true. We did not get the new car that Marcella wanted. There have been big losses and a crooked executive who has been dismissed.

“On the other hand, there will be enough to liquidate and Dad and I will start something else. That is one reason why I have been working so hard and taking extra courses and so on, besides making flying trips when he wanted me. And the fact that you are so young isn’t so bad when I think that maybe you will be willing to wait for me till I get a start and am able to take care of you properly.

“So you are hereby told again, and I wish that it could be in the same way, that one Larry Waite is desperately in love and means to find out what the prospect is for him when he sees the lady of his dreams. Don’t discourage me, Betty, when you answer this, though I am not expecting that you give me an answer now. But I’ve got to live through these last weeks of school. How does Betty Lee Waite look on paper? I hope that you may write it so some day. I am deeply in earnest, Betty, and though it was publicly in a spirit of fun that we exchanged hearts, mine is in your keeping. Be good to it!”

So ended Larry’s letter, and he signed himself simply “Yours.”

It was Betty Lee’s first and only love letter, and how like Larry, bless him! Betty was very sober as she read the letter through several times. Possibly she would show it to her mother, some time, but not until after Commencement. It would explain matters. Betty’s head was in a whirl. Be good to Larry’s heart? Well, rather! But Larry would be anxious to know about the receipt of this letter. She must write, and what should she say?

Betty took out her writing materials and sat at her desk thinking. A little note was best. Presently she began to write.

“Dear Larry:

“I have just received and read your letter, and I know that you will want to hear from me at once, especially since one, no, two letters have been lost. I am not really capable now of replying to such a beautiful letter as it should be answered, and I’m just a little dazed over it, I suppose. I did not really know that you have been thinking of me in that way for so long. But I do not even want to say anything to ‘discourage’ you for these last weeks, and I will be good to the ‘heart.’

The answer to this was a telegram and a box of flowers, all of which was quite thrilling to Betty Lee. Her mother looked surprised and asked why Larry Waite should send Betty flowers “now.”

“Oh, because the spring flowers are so pretty, I suppose,” said Betty, burying her nose in them. “I had a letter, too.”

“You must have made a hit with Larry at the Valentine party,” said Doris, crossing the room to see the blossoms whose fragrance had reached her.

“It is awfully nice of him, anyway,” said Betty, turning away to look for vases. “I’ll put a bunch of these on my desk,” she said, “and the rest we’ll all enjoy downstairs.” But while Betty did not permit her family to discover all that these flowers meant to her, a few were later pressed and found their way into the repository of treasures.