Betty Trevor | Page 7

care a pin how she looked. She wanted to "have fun," to invite Nora Bruce to tea as often as possible, to buy a constant supply of a special sort of almond toffee which was offered for sale at a shop which she passed on the way to school, to be a first-form girl and have one of the new desks, and, incidentally, to pass the Cambridge examination if it could be done without too much "fag." She put on her clothes any way, did her hair in the twinkling of an eye, and the effect was uniformly charming.
"If she's untidy, she's picturesque; if I'm untidy, I'm a fright. It's mean!" soliloquised Betty discontentedly. Every day she lived she was the more convinced that the world was topsy-turvy, and that she herself was the only person who was competent to set it to rights.
Pam was just Pam; like herself, and no one else in the world. A dear little, wide-eyed, pointed-chinned kitten, everybody's tease, and pet, and conscience all in one, for those clear child eyes seemed to see through all pretences, and what she thought she put into words without a shadow of fear or hesitation.
It was a very plain, almost a frugal, repast, but the table looked cheerful and pretty with the pink-shaded lamp in the centre, surrounded by the four little bowls of flowers which it was one of Betty's duties to keep fresh, and there was no lack of lively conversation.
Mrs Trevor had had a trying day, and several of her worries must of necessity be discussed with her husband later on, but she would allow no hint of them to escape until he had been fed and rested, and in the same manner all the children searched their memories for the pleasantest event which they had experienced to retail for his benefit.
"I was top to-day, father," Jack announced proudly; "answered every single question in Latin, and read off my translation like a book. If I liked to stew, I believe I could lick Johnston all the time. He was pretty sick at having to go down; looked as glum as an old owl for the rest of the morning."
"He takes his work more seriously than you do, my boy. You say you could be top if you liked: I am glad to hear it; but why don't you like? You can't surely prefer a lower place?"
"Oh, well, there's reason in all things!" returned Jack, with a vagueness which his brothers and sisters had apparently little difficulty in understanding, for they laughed, and sniggered meaningly to each other.
"Such a waste of time, when there is football to be played!"
"A full back has to keep his energy for his work, and not fritter it away over stupid books. That's about it, isn't it, Jack?" they teased, while Dr Trevor said between a sigh and a smile--
"Ah, well, my boy, you are old enough to judge for yourself how your time should be spent! If you win a scholarship, I'll manage to help you through a 'Varsity course, but I can't afford to keep you there unassisted. Remember it is your whole career which is at stake."
"All right, father, I will work," said Jack easily.
He was an affectionate boy, who disliked disappointing his parents, but unfortunately he disliked work even more. He was rather sorry now that he had mentioned his easy victory over the redoubtable Johnston. The pater would expect him to be top every day, whereas he had only just put on a spurt to show what he could do if he chose. Suppose he did lose the scholarship, it wouldn't be so bad after all, he could still play footer on Saturday afternoons!
The doctor's glance had wandered, as if for consolation, to his elder son--Miles the strenuous, the indefatigable, who had a passion for work for work's sake. He was going through the practical stage of an engineer's training, and left the house at six o'clock each morning, to return in the afternoon clad in workman's clothes, incredibly greasy and dirty. Betty suffered agonies in case "they"--that wonderful impersonal "they" who overclouded her life--should think he was really and truly an ordinary workman! On one occasion Miles had joined her on the doorstep as she was returning from an afternoon walk, and she had distinctly seen the curtains of the Pampered Pet's drawing-room move, as if someone were peeping out from behind, when, as she confided to Jill later on, "her cheeks turned k-r-rimson with mortification!"
"Well, Miles, my boy, did you take your little invention with you to- day, and were you able to show it to the manager?"
"Yes, I took it all right."
"And what did he say?"
"He said it was all right."
"Does that mean that he acknowledged that it was an improvement on the