No message came from Kathryn, and Betty had scarcely time to think of whether “Gypsy” had had an opportunity to find out anything further about Peggy’s reported speech. How wonderful it was to have Mother at home again! Betty had missed her presence and advice and help so many times, fun though it was to take the helm herself. Still, it hadn’t always been so much fun.

Now clothes for school, countless little errands, decisions, and the work of settling into the routine again engaged Mrs. Lee and the rest of them. Jelly and fruit canned at the farm was a great asset for the coming season. Grandma was ever so much better; but a good stout woman was now installed in the old home. Dick had really been of great help and Doris had learned to do many things. Amy Lou had been a “lamb” and had learned to read with Grandma. She was “five years old and reading in a primer!”

To tell the truth, Betty thought Doris was very cross at present, but then she might still be resentful about her little flare-up at the last of her stay with Betty. Betty had apologized for her own share in it, but the fact was that Doris had been most to blame. They had parted friends, but Betty felt that her sister had certain reserves with her and was not warmly affectionate, though she had seemed glad enough to see her on first arrival.

However, Doris would probably get over it. Betty thought that she’d better not pay any attention to any grumblings or cross speeches. Dear me—it was hard enough to keep patience over things at times. How did Mother ever do it? She must put most of her time and thought on having the family machinery run smoothly. And Betty was quite right, though a great purpose for one’s children helps any father and mother through.

A telephone message from Countess Coletti to Betty that evening was one feature of affairs. “Hello—oh—yes’m, this is Betty.” Betty was wishing that she had not said “hello” quite as if she were answering a call from Kathryn. Betty flushed with embarrassment as she listened to the first few words from Countess Coletti.

“I am wondering, Miss Betty, if we stop for you with the car tomorrow morning, you will be willing to go with Lucia and me to interview the principal of Lyon High a little before school begins. I should like to have you go around with Lucia and I think I could get you excused from your classes.”

Betty had her doubts about that, but she did not express them. Perhaps Mr. Murchison’s sister could manage it, but the public schools were not like that. They went on regardless of countesses and influential people in general, so far as the daily schedule was concerned; and Betty had had reason to know how particular her principal was about the regular program of every student. Still, as it was a little unusual—it would be fun to take Lucia in charge. Betty could imagine how eyebrows would lift at her and demure glances of her friends in classes of her own would meet her.

All these thoughts rapidly ran through her mind as she listened to what further Countess Coletti had to say. Oh, then Lucia’s credits were already in the hands of the principal.

“I see, Countess Coletti,” Betty’s clear voice made reply. “I shall be very glad to do anything—oh, yes, I shall be ready to go with you early. Certainly. I’ll find out everything as soon as I see Lucia’s schedule, and meet her at lunch and—oh, well, that is as the principal says, I suppose. Yes, Countess Coletti. Good-bye.”

“My me!” Betty turned from the telephone to see Dick’s grin.

“What do you have to do now, Betty, act as nursemaid to the countess’ daughter?”

“Just about, Dick! No, I needn’t say that, either. I imagine that Lucia has a lot of grit herself; though that wasn’t my first impression. But anybody would feel lost in such a big school. I did, and I hadn’t been to private school all my life, either.”

Betty went on into the living room and dining room from the hall where she had been using the telephone. Doris was busy with her lessons there at the big table, which was usually cleared of anything else for school books and papers. Any one who wanted real privacy could go to bedroom or den, as the case might be. Dick had a small set of shelves in his den, and the girls had a similar set in their bedroom.

Doris did not look up as Betty sat down by her and took up her geometry, though Betty knew that she must have heard the conversation, or Betty’s part of it, since the wide doors between dining room and the front room were open, as well as the hall entrance, never closed, for the good reason that it could not be.

Dick was calling up one of the boys now, to make sure of an assignment. Presently he, too, was back at the table. “We’re in high society now, Dorry,” said he. “Didja hear Betty talking to the countess?”

“Ye-ah,” drawled Doris. “I think my mother is better than any countess, so we needn’t get worked up about it.”

Betty drew a figure on her sheet of paper. Little Dory was jealous! It was a shame. Here she had been to New York and had had all the fun!

But Betty need not have felt self-reproachful. She had earned her trip to New York by her own pleasant spirit, much real effort that to some girls would have been very trying, and by overcoming some loneliness in times when company was lacking. Doris would have her turn, in a family where fairness was characteristic of its parents. But it was just as well for Betty to be thinking about her sister now, instead of herself.

Morning came, and with it the new excitement. Dick, frankly interested, kept an eye out for the Murchison car, a beautiful thing in dark wine-color. “Gee!” cried Dick in a tone discreetly low, “that’s a beauty! I’m going to have one just like it some day. There’s your colored chauffeur, Sis, in uniform. Say, I didn’t know that Dad was hobnobbing with the aristocrats!”

“Hush, Dick,” said Mrs. Lee, annoyed. “Mr. Murchison is a very wealthy gentleman and lives in accordance with his means. Are you ready, Betty? Please answer the bell, Dick. It is the chauffeur.”

“Give me an apron and cap, Mom,” remarked the irrepressible Dick, “for the maid must answer the door.”

“You’re wrong. Dick,” said Doris, who was gathering up her books. “The butler should be at the door. See how elegant you can be, though I’m afraid they will think you rather young.”

But the bell had rung, and Dick ran, rather too hurriedly for dignity in his role of butler, if that suggestion by Doris was to be taken seriously. She was listening as Dick threw open the front door.

“Is you-all ready foh goin’ to school with Miss Lucy an’ Loosha?”

“I’ll call Betty,” said Dick. “Yes, she is ready.” So the girl Betty called “Lu-chee-a,” the chauffeur called “Loosha.”

“Miss Lucy said that she wanted to take all the children to school, foh she thought there was some o’ them that went to the Junior High School.”

“Please thank the countess,” said Dick, as properly as if it had been his father. “We shall be very glad to come and we can be out as soon as we can gather up our books.”

The chauffeur went back to the car, while Dick hastily called Betty and Doris, though Doris had been curious enough to stay within hearing, and if the truth were told, Doris had taken extra care with her toilet that morning, in case she should happen within sight of Countess Coletti and Lucia, her daughter.

“She wants us all to come, Mother,” excitedly she reported. “Shall we?”

“Certainly. It would be impolite to refuse. Yes, better wear your coat, though it is so warm this morning.”

“Shall you go out to the car and meet them, Mother?” asked Betty, doubtfully, though that is what would have happened in their old home, if any friend had driven up, or strangers, indeed, with such an invitation to the children.

“No,” replied Mrs. Lee. “Had the countess appeared, or asked to see me, I might; but they are all in a hurry. Don’t waste a moment. It is very thoughtful for the countess to include you and Doris, Dick. Just be appreciative, polite and quiet. I can trust all of you to be that, I’m sure.”

But Countess Coletti might be trusted also, to make the children feel comfortable. She was smiling at the three with their books, a necessary accompaniment, alas, as Doris thought. “Good morning, Betty,” she said, while Lucia smiled and nodded, leaving conversation to her mother. “You are good not to keep us waiting. These are your brother and sister, I’m sure. This is my daughter, Lucia Coletti. Now you may sit here, Betty, your sister there and the brother, too. Ready, Horace.”

Horace did not look around, but started the car and off they went in the fresh September morning, bright and clear. “It is Dick and Doris, Countess Coletti,” said Betty, thinking that the names of the twins should be mentioned. The term “discretion” did not do justice to the attitude of the twins, almost too sober, Betty thought, but they were dear children!

Yet the experienced countess led the conversation, telling them of Lucia’s troubles in arranging her schedule, some of them to be discussed with the principal that morning, and chatting of how pleasantly Lucia was impressed with her mother’s old home and how good “the old town” looked to one who had been away as many years as she herself had passed abroad. “We never could seem to find a time,” said she, “when it was convenient to come, though my brother and his family were over often.”

Betty wondered what family Mr. Murchison had. Her father probably did not know or he would have mentioned it.

The handsome car and its occupants caused some notice among the early arrivals at the school. The chauffeur drove in and parked the car behind the building on one of the drives there. Betty showed the party how to reach the nearest entrance and led them up the stairs and through the halls to the office of the principal. He was affable but business-like. He hesitated when Countess Coletti asked that Betty be permitted to show Lucia about, though she asked most prettily and with no assumption that it must be done for her. “It would be such a favor,” said she, “if Betty will not miss anything important.”

“Everything is important, Countess Coletti,” smiled the principal, “but I think we shall arrange it for your daughter not to be lost. Here, Betty, is the schedule we have made out for Miss Coletti. See if you have any classes together?”

With the principal, Betty, feeling rather important for a modest body like herself, worked out a program for the day. She would take Lucia to her first class, introduce her to the teacher and leave her there, stopping for her at the close of the period without losing much time, since the recitation rooms happened to be near. They had the same home room, which made it easy to begin the day together. Betty herself had not been there on the opening morning and had been forced to see her home room teacher later in the day, to find out many things. There were practically no recitations of any length, and periods were shortened for an assembly. Lunch, fortunately, would be prepared in the lunch rooms and the full day’s schedule carried out, an unusual proceeding even for the third day, why, Betty did not know.

“Your daughter, Madam, need not worry at all. In case she becomes confused, there is always the office. We are ready to rescue any pupil, and without reproof in these opening days. I hope that Miss Lucia will enjoy the new experience.”

With this the interview closed. Betty showed the countess how to reach her car, but with the ringing of the gongs, she and Lucia went to find their home room and report.

It was a home room of girls, to be sure, but Betty felt a little self-conscious as she accompanied Lucia to the desk and introduced her to their home room teacher, not the dear Miss Heath, but a teacher to whom Betty had not happened to recite in her freshman year. Keen eyes appraised her and Lucia, who was not at all embarrassed. Lucia was accustomed to being stared at and to traveling around. As long as Betty kept her from being lost about places and duties, it was all right. What difference did it make to her what impression she was making?

“Lucia Coletti,” the teacher repeated, taking the card from Lucia and pronouncing the name correctly, as Betty had given it. She made a few notes on a paper at hand. “Is she a friend of yours, Betty Lee?”

“Yes’m. That is, I’m showing her around because she is new to everything. She just came to New York on the Statendam and has been to school in Switzerland.”

Miss Orme, who was accustomed to meet many Italian children in the city schools, revised her first impression made by the name, and looked again at this easily poised girl who had been to school in Switzerland. Lucia met her gaze without interest, politely waiting directions. “Lucia is the daughter of——”

“Count Coletti, of Milan,” suddenly said Lucia, to Betty’s surprise. Betty had not intended to tell the teacher who Lucia was, then thought perhaps she’d better, for Lucia’s sake, for her relatives, the Murchisons, were well-known in the city and it would be better, too, for Miss Orme to place the girl at once in her mind. But why did Lucia forestall the introduction as her mother’s daughter? Perhaps that was it. Was there some idea of loyalty to her father, or was she just proud of it?

“Oh, yes,” laconically replied Miss Orme, who had, unfortunately, a rooted distaste for American women that married foreigners. “I think I have heard of your mother. Betty, there is a vacant seat across from you on the back row. Too bad you are both so late, but you can get from the other girls what has already been said about many of the details. Show Lucia to her seat, Betty.”

As Betty went down the aisle ahead of Lucia, Peggy Pollard caught her eye and coughed discreetly. Selma grinned up at her and Kathryn widened her big eyes purposely. This home room of sophomore girls was the limit!