“Hello, Betty Lee! Where in the world have you been?”

Betty was just coming from the office where she had been “signing up” for her sophomore year’s work and obtaining her schedule of studies, her home room assignment and various points of information. She was very much interested in seeing to what teachers she would recite, but looked up smiling at the boy who addressed her. Classes were passing for the fifth period, the one before lunch, she supposed.

It was Tuesday, but Betty had not been able to get to school till after the taxi ride home with her father, the exciting reunion of the family, the good breakfast and many little delays. Dick and Doris had gone to school on time; but Betty tarried with her mother and could scarcely stop talking long enough to scrub up and dress suitably for school.

“Why, Chauncey Allen, howdy! I haven’t seen you all summer! Where’s Kathryn?”

“Wondering why you didn’t show up at school yesterday, I imagine. We heard nothing else last night at dinner.”

“Mother could have told if she’d telephoned. We were just detained at New York because the Statendam didn’t get in on time—just got home this morning about breakfast time.”

“Have a good time?”

“Grand!”

“How was the countess?” Chauncey was grinning widely now.

“All right,” smiled Betty. But Chauncey, seeing several girls headed in Betty’s direction, threw up his hands as if to say, “Help, see who’s coming,” and with a comical glance at Betty, hurried off to join another boy.

“Oh, here you are!” exclaimed Peggy Pollard, kissing Betty warmly, while Betty held out her hands to Selma Rardon and Dotty Bradshaw.

“I didn’t think I’d be missed,” said Betty, “for you all would be so busy on opening day; but we can’t talk now, can we?”

“No; come on. Are you signed up for Miss Heath’s class?”

“Yes. I was so scared for fear I’d get put in another section.”

“Good; we’ll all be together, then.”

Scampering down the halls in order to be on time to class in the limited time between classes, the girls arrived breathless, Betty to exchange nods and smiles with girls and boys who were slipping into class room seats, and to catch a pleasant, welcoming smile from Miss Heath, who presently, in attending to the roll, gave Betty a chance to present her card.

How different it was from the year before! Now she knew what to do and she began the year with a group of dear friends among the girls, to say nothing of the jolly boys.

There was no lunch in the lunch room on these first days, but the usual early dismissal occurred. However, a group of Betty’s friends sat for a little while in a grassy spot on the grounds, to discuss important affairs, as well as to see Betty and each other.

“I hated to leave camp,” said Selma, “but isn’t it good to be back? Say, Betty, try out for the hockey team. We need a lot of good material besides just the regular team.”

“Maybe,” said Betty.

“Tell us what you saw in New York, Betty,” suggested Dotty Bradshaw, cute little Dotty, as “big as a minute” and so serious about some things.

“It would take too long,” replied Betty.

“Oh, just mention a few things.”

“Like Fifth Avenue and Broadway, for instance? Well, the parks and the Tombs with the ‘Bridge of Sighs’ across from the Criminal Court——”

Betty adopted a hollow tone here, but went on more cheerfully—“and Tammany Hall, another wicked place, I suppose, and the skyscrapers and the Hudson River and of course the statue of ‘Liberty Enlightening the World.’ We took a little trip up the Hudson and crossed on the ferries, and rode out Riverside Drive, and went into the big stores, and I spent all my money, of course; and we had delicious things to eat at different places, and museums and art galleries and the Battery. Father gave me a good time. It was said to be a reward of virtue for keeping house for him. But I’ve had a fine time all summer.”

“How many art museums did you eat, Betty?” asked Peggy.

Betty looked blank for a moment, then laughed. “I did mention the museums and art galleries along with things to eat, didn’t I? But don’t begin on English now, Peggy. I’ll get enough of that pretty soon.”

“So will we all,” returned Peggy Pollard, pretending to groan.

“Shall, Peggy,” corrected Carolyn, and Peggy reached over to tweak the curve on an ear that showed among curling locks. Carolyn had acquired a new style of hair dressing during the summer, and Betty privately determined to copy it. It was becoming to Carolyn and she thought it would be to her. She would try it anyway, and see.

“Did your father meet the countess, Betty?” Carolyn inquired; but just then two girls sauntered up. They were Mathilde Finn and Kathryn Allen. Kathryn was making funny signs to Betty behind Mathilde’s back, but Peggy welcomed them both. “’Lo, Finny,” said she, “have a seat on the ‘over-stuffed’ furniture. It’s been so dry that we’re perfectly safe on the grass now. How’s everything signing up and starting in?”

“Perfectly terrible,” returned Mathilde cheerfully, as she plumped down beside Betty. Kathryn managed to squeeze in beside Betty and whispered, “You see how friendly Peggy and Mathilde are?”

“M-hm,” replied Betty, linking arms with Kathryn. “You’ll slide down this slope the first thing you know.”

“Who said something about a countess?” asked Selma.

“I did,” answered Carolyn. “I asked Betty if her father met the countess.”

Mathilde gave Betty a glance full of interest. “Introduce me, Peggy,” she whispered.

“Oh, yes. Betty, I want you to meet a new sophomore, Mathilde Finn. Mathilde, this is Betty Lee.”

Betty smiled and acknowledged the introduction with a little nod, as Mathilde and Peggy were some little distance away. “I hope you will enjoy being a sophomore,” she said.

“I have been one at another school,” Mathilde remarked rather airily. “But there is such a difference in courses, you know.”

Kathryn nudged Betty, who kept countenance and acknowledged that there was, a great difference. Betty recalled Carolyn’s question, but thought that she would not answer it unless some one insisted.

Curiosity, however, had been aroused. “Well,” said Selma, “how about the ‘countess,’ Betty?”

“Oh,” said Betty. “Mr. Murchison asked Father to meet his sister, Countess Coletti, and her daughter. They came over on the Statendam. That was why I couldn’t get home till today. First the ship was to arrive on—Thursday, I think. Then the New York Times said Friday and the next day it was Saturday. It really came in on Sunday; so, of course, we had to wait till we could meet them.”

“Did you meet them, too?” asked Selma, a little impressed with Betty’s opportunity.

“Yes, I went with Father to the boat. He thought it would be better, since Miss Coletti was coming, too.”

“What is the girl called, Betty?” asked Peggy.

“Lucia.”

“I didn’t mean that. Hasn’t she any title, too?”

“I don’t know what they call her over in Italy, or at the school in Switzerland that she has been attending. But her mother say that she is to be Lucia Coletti, or Miss Coletti at school. She wants to come to Lyon High; but I don’t suppose they will hurry about it.”

“Are they really going to send her to a public school?” asked Mathilde in a shocked tone.

“That shows what you really think of the public school, Mathilde Finn,” said Dotty, not unpleasantly, but with firmness.

“Suppose I do,” returned Mathilde, a question in her tone, as well as a bit of resentment.

“Well,” said Dotty, “all I have to say is that there are some who would call that snobbish!”

“All right, if you think that, Dotty Bradshaw, think away!”

This was getting a little too warm for comfort and Betty spoke again. “I think we must all be nice to Lucia, for she will not know what to do, she says, and besides, she will be terribly homesick. When I first saw her she was both seasick, or just getting over it, and homesick, too. But her mother says that Lucia is going to have a taste of American democracy.”

“She will probably get all she wants of it here,” sarcastically said Mathilde. “But Betty Lee is right—we must all be friendly.”

Kathryn nudged Betty again. “She will, all right,” Kathryn whispered, “the little snob!”

Betty gave a sideway smile at Kathryn and whispered, “Tut-tut!” But Kathryn’s eyes were twinkling and her expression not as unpleasant as her words.

“My mother was at school with Miss Murchison, I think,” Mathilde continued. “She will probably call upon the countess.”

“And you ought to go with her, Mathilde,” wickedly added Kathryn.

At this Betty jumped up. It would be better not to say anything more about her trip with the countess and her daughter and maids. Betty had learned since coming to the city that telling all you know, with perfect frankness, was not always wise. There were some understanding people, but also many others who were critical, or at least not at all appreciative. It was sometimes best not to satisfy curiosity or place yourself open to misunderstanding or criticism. It was a courteous Betty who said to Mathilde that she hoped she would enjoy being a sophomore “with the rest of us,” and to the rest she said she had too much to do at home to stay any longer.

“I’m suffering from an aching void, girls,” declared Dotty. “It’s past lunch time for me!”

“Come on home with me, Betty,” begged Kathryn.

“No, both you come with me,” said Carolyn. “I have an arrangement with Cook for a special lunch of something I adore.”

“Thank you, girls; I must get back to Mother, besides having a lot of things to see to. Just think, I haven’t seen my mother all summer, except just a little while this morning. I have to hear all about how my grandmother is, and Dick and Doris have actually grown this summer. I can see it, to say nothing of Amy Lou, who is peachier than ever.”

“You do love your family, don’t you, Betty Lee?” said Carolyn.

“I should think so!”

“Well, come along, Kathryn. Take pity on me and let’s have a good old visit together. Peggy, can’t you come, too?”

Peggy accepted, and Kathryn gave Betty a meaning look as they separated, taking different cars. “Maybe I’ll call you up tonight, Betty,” she said.

“Do it, Gypsy,” replied Betty.