Betsy Was a Junior and Betsy and Joe (10 page)

M
AKING
O
KTO
D
ELTA SERIOUS
was certainly uphill work.

The juniors in the sorority, who were studying Foundations of English Literature under Miss Fowler, had made the acquaintance of Milton's poems, “U Allegro” and “II Penseroso.” Winona stalked into every Okto Delta meeting flinging up a long arm and crying,
“Hence, loathed Melancholy!” And the Sistren would chant in uproarious sing-song:

If Betsy ever shouted, “Hence, vain deluding joyes!” her voice was certainly drowned out in the racket.

But it is doubtful that she ever shouted, in spite of the good resolutions she had made riding home from Murmuring Lake. She relished the flattering laughter that arose when she read the minutes of the meetings.

“The second meeting of the Okto Delta sorority was held on October seventeenth at the home of Sister Root. The meeting was called to order by the president, and the Sistren showed undue mirth and hilarity during the reading of the minutes. (The secretary-treasurer is very witty, as well as pretty and good.)

“The appointed committee reported on the subject of pins. Sistren Biscay, T. Kelly and Ray had conducted this matter with their usual efficiency, and a local jewelry store is now engraving eight gold pins with the mystic Okto Delta symbols. The price of the pins should not cause fathers undue suffering for they are a mere one dollar per. They will be delivered
shortly and will doubtless cause a sensation in the Deep Valley High.

“Sister Morrison moved that the meetings always be held in the afternoon. She was hooted down and didn't mind at all; it had been her mother's idea, anyway. Sister K. Kelly suggested a cross-country tramp for the following Thursday. This was agreed upon, one of her chocolate cakes being part of the bargain.

“Sister Root proposed opening the sorority to boys. This also was hooted down. Sister T. Kelly, who doesn't like boys, grew as red as her own locks with rage. Sister Root would have been abashed if she had been anyone but Sister Root. ‘Let them get up a fraternity of their own,' said the wise secretary-treasurer.

“After this business meeting, conducted with skill and dispatch by our honored president, the Sistren brought out sewing bags, and their lily-white fingers flashed as they crocheted, tatted, embroidered, or just plain sewed. Sister Ray worked on the world's most famous jabot, destined for Sister Sibley's swan-like neck. They also toasted marshmallows and discussed important matters: to wit, boys.

“Sistren T. Kelly, Muller, Root and Ray gave a drama in one act entitled,
Woman versus Woman
, or
She Loved but Killed Him
. The actors were superb. The audience watched the brilliant portrayal of love
and hatred with tense faces, swayed from tears to laughter.

“The Sistren were then served with a delicious lunch. They are noted for their delicate appetites, but on this occasion they unbent and really ate. The meeting then adjourned.”

This meeting was described, a trifle more formally, in Winona's father's paper, the
Deep Valley Sun
. There was a good deal of talk about Okto Delta around school next day.

On the following week the sorority met with Carney.

“The Sistren didn't have a very successful business meeting for they were disturbed by the male element, including Dave Hunt. (The secretary-treasurer writes this name with a delicate blush; she thinks he's cute.) After an unladylike chase over the Sibley premises and the capture of several trophies, including Cab Edward's cap, the Sistren returned to the house and henceforth the male element inspected proceedings from the windows.

“The minutes of the previous meeting were read and objected to, although it has slipped my mind entirely why. I am sure it was a silly objection as Sister Ray always writes up the minutes in a concise, dignified manner, and no legitimate objection could possibly be found. Sister Biscay handed out the new
pins and with difficulty collected a dollar from each member.

“After the business meeting the Sistren played cards. To find their partners they drew sticks of licorice tied with orange bows. For a head prize Sister Sibley gave an orange and black pincushion and for a consolation prize a lemon.

“When the delectable refreshments were served, Sister Root again brought up the matter of inviting boys into the order and seemed to receive some support from Sister Muller, who is too small to have any weight in such discussions. Both of them were sternly rebuked. Sister Sibley, our noble president, announced that she has learned to drive her father's auto and will take the Sistren in a body to the St. John game.”

This meeting likewise was written up, in a slightly different vein, by the
Deep Valley Sun
, and the high school looked with interest at the gold pins, engraved with a triangle having a circle inside, which appeared on eight shirt waists the following Monday.

“Sister Biscay entertained the Okto Deltas at a particularly skippy luncheon. Places at the table were marked by clothes pin dolls dressed in orange and black. Five hundred was played, with only a few interruptions in the form of fist fights, ragtime, Sister Muller's ‘Baby Dance,' and the ‘Cat Duet' sung with feeling and some masterly caterwauls by Sistren T. Kelly and Ray. The head prize was won by Sister
Morrison. It was a peachy little doll dressed in an orange and black princesse dress. The booby prize, won by Sister Muller, consisted of a soap teddy bear. A gentle hint, Sister Muller!

“Sister Root insisted at the top of her voice that if we won't let the boys join, we simply must entertain them. Sister Muller seconded the motion, although anyone as small as she is should be seen and not heard. Then Sister K. Kelly, a genius of the first order, quieted everyone with a terrific announcement.

“She said that it was the Sistren Kellys' turn to entertain next time and that, since there were two of them, it would be only fair for them to entertain twice as many people. Therefore, each girl might invite a boy.

“Great was the rush for Sister Biscay's telephone, and the Sistren, who are well known for their beauty, charm and initiative, especially initiative, had no difficulty in ensnaring eight hapless males. This party will occur on the night of the St. John game to which Sister Sibley will take us in her auto. It should be quite a day.”

It was. The St. John game was always the climax of the football season in Deep Valley. Excitement would have mounted in all breasts even though there had been no Okto Delta plans afoot. But these grew more sensational all the time.

Tib danced up to Betsy, Tacy and Carney in the Social Room.

“I have some of that cardboard left over from the invitations, and those orange and black crayons. Wouldn't you like to have me make an Okto Delta poster to put on the front of Carney's auto?”

The response was enthusiastic:

“Marvelous.”

“Let's make an Okto Delta pennant, too.”

“How about some orange and black arm bands?”

“Maybe,” Carney suggested, “we ought to wear the school colors?”

“Oh, sure! But we could combine them with the Okto Delta colors.”

“Let's all dress alike.”

“What shall it be? Sweaters and tams? Gee, I wish we had black sweaters and orange tarns!”

“Maybe next year….” Betsy began, but Carney interrupted.

“Don't make me feel bad. Next year I'll be at Vassar.”

“Just think!” cried Betsy. “You'll be an alumnus, the very first Okto Delta alumnus!”

“Betsy!” said Carney. “We're females, and the word is alumna.”

“It's alumnae, I think,” Tib interrupted earnestly. “I've never studied Latin but I used to hear them use that word at Browner.”

“Oh, let's just say alum,” said Betsy. “It sounds more casual, anyway. You will be the first Okto Delta alum.”

On the day of the game the eight girls met at the
Sibleys', all wearing sweaters and tarns with orange and black arm bands and carrying an Okto Delta pennant. Tib had made a huge Okto Delta poster which they fastened to the front of the automobile. Mr. and Mrs. Sibley laughed at these arrangements but their main interest was in Carney's manipulation of the steering wheel. She had been practising driving for two months now and was almost as proficient as her father, who still relapsed occasionally into “Giddap!” and “Whoa!”

It was an overcast day in November. The trees had been stripped of their last withered leaves. Winter was sharpening its knives, but Okto Delta made its own warmth as the girls, flushed and laughing, crowded into the automobile.

Carney's brother cranked the machine, which began to quiver and make explosive noises. Shortly it was rolling down Front Street, where the gaudy sign on the front, the pennant, waved by Tib sitting on Winona's lap, all the bright colors and frenzied cheering caused the most insensitive passers-by to stop, look and listen.

Waving and cheering, the Okto Deltas rode on to the football field at the edge of town. There were no stands. Spectators usually stood or walked up and down the side lines. Occasionally someone watched from a buggy or an automobile, but this wasn't considered sporting.

The Okto Deltas were full of school spirit, and after their spectacular arrival had been fully appreciated they piled out of the car.

Hazel Smith caught sight of Betsy, waved and started toward her. Then she noticed the display of sweaters and tarns, the orange and black colors, the new pins gleaming. Trying to act as though she had been heading somewhere else, she angled away.

“Hi, Hazel!” Betsy cried. “Come on over!”

Hazel came, but diffidently.

“Stay and watch the game with us,” Betsy said. She shouldn't have said it. It had been agreed that the Okto Deltas were going to remain as a unit throughout the whole game. But she thought Hazel looked odd.

“No,” said Hazel, “I'm with somebody else. Is this your new club? Pretty skippy, aren't you?” She said it good naturedly, but Betsy was troubled by the speed with which she ducked away.

The Okto Deltas had no difficulty watching the game as a unit, at least so far as girls were concerned. No other girls approached them. Most of the boys they knew were either on the football team or among the scrubs who were also in uniform, hoping to be called as replacements. Lloyd Harrington wasn't on the team and he joined Tib at once, remaining beside her to instruct and explain. Tib was an excellent vacant-lot football player herself, but she asked naive
questions and listened round-eyed.

Another boy on the side lines was Joe Willard.

Joe had never been able to go out for football because he worked after school. Heretofore, he had not been able even to come to the games. But he was here today as representative of the
Deep Valley Sun
. Bareheaded, wearing a heavy blue turtle-neck sweater, a swatch of yellow copy paper stuck in his hip pocket, he dashed up and down the side lines abreast of the battling teams. His face was glowing with excitement and Betsy remembered Cab telling her last year that Joe was good at football. He could have been an outstanding athlete, Stewie, the coach, had said. Joe had never seemed to mind not having time for athletics. He had said offhandedly that he would play in college. But watching him now, Betsy realized that it must have been a real deprivation.

Just as the first half ended without a score, Joe's peregrinations brought him upon the Okto Deltas. They were standing in front of their decorated auto.

“Hey, what's all this?” he asked, looking at Betsy.

“Haven't you heard about the new sorority? I thought you were expected to keep up with the news.” Betsy smiled saucily, glad that there were plenty of curls pulled out beneath her tam.

“Only important news. What's the name of the thing?”

“Okto Delta. Greek letters, you know.”

“Greek letters?” Joe looked puzzled. “I got ambitious and tried to learn some Greek one time. Okto isn't a letter; it's a word.”

“Oh, don't be like Gaston,” said Betsy. “The effect is Greek letters.”

“The effect,” said Joe, his blue eyes roving over the group, “is kind of cute,” with which remark he sauntered off. The disgustingly general compliment gave Betsy no pleasure. He was freer with compliments these days, which meant, in her opinion, that they were meaningless. She would have preferred the pretended insults she was sure he heaped on Phyllis.

The Okto Deltas, eight strong, began to shout:

Betsy shouted along with the rest, but her eyes followed Joe's retreating figure.

Phyllis Brandish was sitting in her auto. He joined her and sat there until the second half. When he got
out, she followed, a chic, distinctive figure in a russet red suit, fur boa and muff. Furs were the rage that year. For a while she accompanied him in his rovings up and down the field. At last, with a small intimate wave of her hand which seemed to say that she couldn't keep up with him, she retired to her auto again.

In the second half each team made a touchdown. Then Dave Hunt, providentially long-legged, kicked a goal and Deep Valley won the game. The clamor was terrific. Joe Willard was bellowing like a madman. The Okto Deltas were screaming and jumping and hugging one another, and Betsy acted as frantic as everyone else. Yet she didn't feel particularly happy.