Was it herself? So thought Betty once during the G. A. A. banquet which was such an important occasion to its president.

There was the buzz of conversation, the tinkle of some bit of silver, the subdued laughter of some prettily dressed girl, or other natural accompaniment of a meal. Students, guests and teachers sat about the long, flower-decked tables in the familiar lunch room, arranged for the occasion, and were engaged in the pleasant pastime of disposing of an excellent banquet menu’s offerings.

But Betty’s chief thoughts were upon her little speech of welcome, with which the program was to be opened. She sat at the speakers’ table, in the line of those who were to give toasts or present awards. Rather overcome at first by being next to the principal himself, Betty faced her G. A. A. world and glanced from time to time at her notes, concealed from view in her program. She had attended more than one G. A. A. banquet, but it was the first time that she had borne any responsibility.

Tonight she was in front of everybody, for the speakers’ table ran across the end of the room and was seated upon the one side only, which thus faced the ends of the other tables. Betty would not be particularly embarrassed in receiving before every one her coveted pin for riding, chevrons, or other marks of honors won. But that speech! Well, if she forgot what she intended to say, she could make up something cordial and courteous. She had had experience with the Girl Reserves and often had to say something that she had not expected to. But she had to manage the program, too, and she did hope that she wouldn’t make any mistakes or let down into what her father called the school vernacular.

Rather keyed up, Betty rose with senior dignity at the proper time and made her little speech of welcome and introduction to the purpose and points of the banquet. She introduced the principal as the first upon the program and sat down during the applause which both approved of her speech and recognized the principal. Relieved that there was a favorable start, Betty had a chance to think of what she was to say next, while the principal spoke briefly. Two others made short toasts, Carolyn Gwynne, then one of the girls who lauded the opportunities of the school for healthful activities. Then, since so many awards were to be made, the business of presentations began.

Betty had only to call on each teacher who made the presentations, but she kept her mind strictly on the order of the program, though interrupted by receiving and acknowledging with smiles her own awards. Hockey, riding, swimming, basketball, numeral and letters made trophies for Betty, who disposed them near her as best she could.

The new officers for the next year were installed, another thing to have done properly. But it was all going off promptly with no dragging, no time wasted. What else should they learn in this big school except to have everything go promptly, according to schedule? Lucia, happy with both her father and her mother beside her, her guests at the banquet, gave Betty a smiling look once in awhile. Count and Countess Coletti were evidently very much interested in the whole affair, and the dark-eyed, distinguished looking count took from Lucia the pin which was the award of the riding club, to examine it smilingly and pass it on to Mr. and Mrs. Lee, who sat near. The Murchisons, though urged to come by Lucia, had another important engagement. The count and countess had arrived from their travels just in time to attend.

Gwen’s father and mother were there, too, for was not Gwen receiving recognition for her one year of excellent efforts? Carolyn, sweet old Carolyn, had made the best speech of all, Betty thought. From certain indications, Betty thought that it was most likely that Carolyn would be named the honor girl. Yet not a word had any member of the committee said to betray their secret, so far as Betty knew.

And tired, though relieved, when Betty called upon the chief athletic director to make the announcement of the Lyon High Honor Girl, she was almost past thinking at all. All that she had to do now was to announce the speaker, who would offer the toast to that honor girl. Thank fortune, it had all gone off without a hitch! Betty leaned back in her chair and pinned below her flowers on her gay chiffon frock, new for the occasion, the silver pin with its outlined horse jumping over a low gate.

She saw Amy Lou smiling at her from beside her mother, and back among a sophomore group was Doris. But she was all attention as the experienced and charming director began to speak, saying what Betty knew to be true that her class had offered an unusual number of girls prominent in athletic events.

“It is too bad that there can be only one Honor Girl. However, I know that you will all agree in regard to the qualifications of the one whom we have selected. Fair and considerate, loyal to the school, striving for excellence rather than to win over another, friendly, efficient, dependable, always working toward high ideals, with an excellent record in scholarship and athletics, with gifts in influence and leadership, our young president, Betty Lee, is the one whom we name as Lyon High Honor Girl!”

Betty had clasped her hands tightly together when the director had said “our young president.” Now, prettily gowned, smiling assurance to Betty, she was bending to her and giving her a hand to present her as Betty rose, scarcely believing her eyes and ears.

Trying to collect herself, Betty listened while the director placed the beautiful ring on Betty’s finger with a few more well-chosen and almost affectionate words. And Betty must make some response—a speech that she had not made up beforehand!

Betty’s voice trembled a little, as in a few words, which she could never remember, she thanked the director and the society and sank into her chair, apparently in command of herself, but really very much shaken. She would not have believed that she could feel it so!

Fortunately, the director announced at once the name of the teacher who was to give the toast to the Honor Girl, saving Betty the embarrassment and “making it snappy,” as Doris said afterwards. This closed the program and Carolyn, sitting so near Betty, was the first one to reach her and hug her in congratulation.

“Oh, Carolyn, I was almost sure it would be you! You are ten times more worthy of wearing this ring than I am!”

“No, Betty, and I’m honestly glad you have it.”

“It is just like you, Carolyn, and I’ll never be able to equal your generous spirit in a thousand years!”

But others, teachers and pupils, were surrounding Betty now. Her parents were also receiving congratulations and did not try to reach Betty for some time. Countess Coletti, presently, was turning up Betty’s chin with a light touch of her jeweled hand, to kiss her and threaten to carry her off with Lucia to Switzerland for the summer. The count offered his congratulations with dignity and stopped to talk with the principal on American public schools.

It was late before the combined Lee family felt sleepy. Mrs. Lee came into Betty’s room to say goodnight again to her honor girl, and found Betty, half undressed but sitting on her bed “just thinking.”

They talked for a few moments, then Betty sprang up suddenly. “Mother, this would be a good time to show you something. I have never said much to you about Larry Waite, Marcella’s brother, and you have scarcely seen him. Well, you did hear all about last summer, of course, and how nice he was. But there is something special, Mother, and a letter that he wrote me will explain it to you better than I can. You can understand, can’t you, why I haven’t told you anything before? It was only the time of Marcella’s party that I knew he cared.”

Startled, Mrs. Lee looked inquiringly at Betty; but the motherly smile was ready for her “little girl.” “And are you—interested in him, Betty?” she asked.

“No girl could help being interested, Mother. I’m—afraid I care a good deal already. Here is the main letter, and that is a note written before. He wrote me a letter and a note that never reached me.”

“Do you care if I take these to my room, Betty?”

“I’d much rather, Mother—but don’t let anything happen to them!” Betty was smiling a little now. The moment had been a little awkward.

“I understand. And may I speak of it to Father? He’ll probably not want to read the letters.”

“Say anything you want to Father, if he will keep it to himself, you know. You see it is really not all fixed up.”

“Depend on me to manage it,” said Mrs. Lee, taking her daughter in her arms for an especial good night, yet leaving the room with a frown of anxiety. Betty was too young. But she turned to say, “Betty, I shall make it a point to become acquainted with this young man. We shall invite him around.” And Betty, selecting her “nightie” from a hook in her closet, looked around the open closet door to say, “All right, Mamma. Goodnight.”

The situation did not seem so distressing, however, after the letters were read. There would be nothing immediate. Mrs. Lee smiled at more than one point, but Betty could safely trust her letters to her mother. She was not one to take humorously or lightly what was earnest in young love. This seemed to be a sensible young man, carrying more responsibility than most at his age, and sufficiently older than Betty. She decided to tell Mr. Lee at some later date, when he was not so tired. The lad was coming home, they would soon have an opportunity to judge for themselves.

-----

Commencement was held in the school auditorium, though so many were the demands for tickets that it had been considered taking the seniors to one of the city’s larger platforms. That Betty was excited with all the accompanying glories, is scarcely necessary to mention. Presents from dear friends, little gifts exchanged with the girls, the new white frock, flowers from “The Dorrances,” flowers also from “Arthur and Archie,” the Penrose boys, gave Betty little ecstasies at different times, when they arrived or were presented.

Larry Waite had written that he would be there. Betty saw to it that there should be a ticket for him, and that she gave to Marcella, with earnest adjurations that it should not be lost.

“Don’t worry, Betty,” said Marcella. “I’ll see that he gets it. It will not go with the letter where the lost pins go!”

Marcella herself would be elsewhere. University affairs were more “intriguing,” though she gave Betty a pretty remembrance and made the remark that Betty was “already like a sister—sorority sister, of course,” she explained with a merry look.

On what Mr. Lee called the fatal day, a great box of crimson roses was delivered at the house. They were accompanied by Larry’s card, and his roses should be the ones Betty carried, to be sure. Singing with the rest of her class was the only duty left to be performed. The speaker, the orchestra and organ, and the principal would do the rest. She could carry all the roses she could hold and still receive her diploma, made out to Elizabeth Virginia Lee, whose high school days would then be over.

Music, roses, prettily dressed senior girls, dignified senior boys in their best attire, a whole platform crowded with them—such was the familiar scene in the school auditorium that happy night. It was the formal, impressive exercise known as Commencement; and when it was over Betty Lee carried a diploma, earned by many a sacrifice of ease, to testify now to her hours of study and effort.

That and her roses, except a few that she wore, she put into the parental hands, used to relieving their children of their burdens. And Larry came around at once to claim her and to greet Betty’s parents, with whom she waited for him. Betty was proud of his appearance and manner, but that temporary satisfaction was swallowed up by the excitement of her first real conversation with Larry, which impended.

Then and in the next few days there was plenty of opportunity to explain everything. Even the lost letter had been found, sopping wet in the pocket of Judd’s sweater, which had been thrown into a little launch that the boys sometimes used in the harbor and rained upon. “I will mail my own important letters after this,” said he. But he had dried the letter and brought it to read with Betty such parts as were decipherable.

Betty, whose talk with her mother had taken place soon after Mr. Lee had read the letter from Larry, explained that her father and mother were friendly but hoped that the “arrangement” would be an “understanding” rather than an open engagement. “They think that we don’t know each other well enough yet, Larry, and that I am too young, as you said. But one thing I must say to you and that is that your troubles with the business are not important to me, only as they make it hard for you. Why, I can cook and keep house pretty well, and it would be much more fun to live in just a little place with you—if we ever should be married.”

This, to be sure, was after Larry had again gone over the points of his letter. His repeated assurances of what he had told Betty in the Waite library had been given at once on Betty’s graduation night, and Betty had been asked for her confession, as well. They were both happy and expectant.

They were sitting, during this conversation, on a hill overlooking one of the most beautiful views in the city. Marcella and some of her friends were having a picnic in the wooded park. Larry took Betty’s hand and looked at the honor ring that she wore. “I suppose that it must be just an understanding now,” said he. “But perhaps by your birthday they may let you wear a ring for me. Not for nothing did I look over your shoulder into that Hallowe’en mirror, Betty—you—sweetheart!”

Meanwhile, Mrs. Lee, gathering up various articles at home, was carrying Betty’s diploma into her room. There, on Betty’s table, cleared for the purpose, were her trophies. The year book, which Betty had helped compile, adorned one corner. It contained, with much else, serious and otherwise, the pictures of the faculty, of Betty’s school-mates and of Betty herself, with the list of her clubs and activities during the four years. On this were a few copies of the Roar, for Betty, too, had been written up among the prominent seniors.

Here were Betty’s gifts, her chevrons, a medal, the little gold pin from Miss Heath, with its Latin motto, “Ad Astra,” the Girl Reserve ring, the long-worn senior pin, more prizes, all Betty’s cherished senior trophies. For a moment Mrs. Lee stood looking at them. Then, smiling, on top of the array, she laid Betty’s diploma.