Betty's Happy Year

Mr. Irving took the paper from the boy, and read on it, “Miss Frances Arundel.” He gave a start and glanced at Dorothy. She was looking at him with horror-stricken face, and just then Jeanette came in at the door, closing it behind her, and leaving the office boy outside.

Jeanette looked quietly at Mr. Irving, and said:

“Did you get my letter?”

“I got a letter from Frances Arundel, yes,” said the old gentleman, who was fast getting bewildered.

“I wrote it,” said Jeanette, calmly. “I hope you can give me some work to do.”

“You wrote it!” said Mr. Irving. “Then who is that lady there?”

Jeanette turned a casual glance at Dorothy.

“I don’t understand you, sir,” she said; “are you asking me who that lady is? Isn’t she your secretary or something?”

“She says she’s Frances Arundel,” said Mr. Irving, grimly.

“What!” cried Jeanette; “what nonsense! I am Frances Arundel. I wrote that letter you hold in your hand, and I have called to see if you can give me a position.”

“You wrote this letter?”

“Of course I did. I also wrote on the paper which I just gave to your office boy. If you will compare the two, you’ll find them the same penmanship.”

This seemed sensible enough, and Mr. Irving looked at both papers, and as Jeanette had written the letter, a glance was sufficient to show that they were indeed by the same hand.

“What does this mean?” said Mr. Irving, looking sternly at Dorothy.

“Forgive me,” pleaded the little rogue, looking very sad and remorseful; “I oughtn’t to have done it, I know, but I overheard this lady in the street-car saying she was coming to see you to-day, to ask you for a position, so I thought I’d come ahead of her, and – and – maybe I could get it. I need it more than she does.”

Dorothy cast a beseeching glance at Jeanette, who returned it with a haughty look.

“I can’t help what she needs,” said Jeanette, turning away from Dorothy, who was pretending to be almost weeping. “I came to ask you for a position, not out of charity, but because my uncle was your chum at college, and – ”

“Wait a minute,” said Mr. Irving; “I never heard of Roger Arundel.”

“Oh, you must have forgotten him, then,” said Jeanette, tossing her head, as if it were a matter of no moment. “But I’d like a position all the same. I’m a competent secretary, and can give satisfaction, I’m sure.”

Mr. Irving was at his wits’ end. He looked at the two young ladies – Dorothy crumpling her handkerchief into her eyes, and looking very forlorn and pathetic; Jeanette rather haughty and dignified, with an air of standing her ground in spite of the impostor who was trying to take her place.

“You are experienced, you say?” he said, turning to Jeanette, and thinking that, if she were indeed competent, he might find a place for her.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, taking off her gloves; “shall I go right to work?”

“Oh, bless my soul, no!” cried the flurried old gentleman. “I haven’t engaged you yet. I don’t do things on the jump like that. Look here, Miss – you first one – what’s your name?”

“Mary Crane,” said Dorothy, saying the first name that came into her head, and feeling that she couldn’t keep up the game much longer.

“Well, Miss Mary Crane, you go on with your adding, and I’ll look into your case later. It seems to me you were pretty sharp to pick up information on a street-car and put it to use so quickly! Did you overhear all that Arundel business, too?”

“Yes, sir,” stammered Dorothy, who was, in truth, nearly choking with laughter.

“Well, you’re a quick-witted young person, whatever else you may be. Now you go on and add. Miss Arundel, I’ll talk with you. You say you’ve had experience. Where have you worked?”

Jeanette looked blank. This question had not been in her rehearsals, and she was not as quick at invention as Dorothy. While she hesitated, the door opened again, and Betty walked in unannounced. She closed the door behind her, and said, in a hoarse whisper:

“Mr. Irving, I am Miss Arundel. I called to see you in hopes you could give me employment of some sort.”

“Three of ’em!” exclaimed Mr. Irving. “Bless my soul!” And he sat helplessly looking at the three girls.

He had no suspicion of Betty’s identity, for her long garments and thick veil and dark glasses were a complete disguise.

The other two he had seen but once or twice, and of course did not recognize them in grown-up attire.

Not a notion of a “joke” entered his mind, but he was mystified by what appeared to be a most extraordinary situation.

“You are Miss Frances Arundel?” he said, looking directly at Betty.

“Yes, sir,” she replied hoarsely, but steadily. “I came to see you about – ”

“I have your note,” said Mr. Irving, the paper being still in his hand.

“I didn’t write you any note,” said Betty, in well-feigned surprise. “I just came in now, hoping I’d find you in, because I wanted to ask you – ”

“For employment, because I used to know your Uncle Roger!” Mr. Irving almost shouted.

“Yes,” said Betty, seemingly pleased, “but how did you know about Uncle Roger?”

“I tell you I have your note.”

“And I tell you I wrote no note. Let me see it, please.”

Betty scanned the letter, and then said, very gravely:

“Mr. Irving, I didn’t write that. Some impostor must have represented me.”

“Two of them, in fact,” said Mr. Irving; “here they are.”

Betty looked at Dorothy and Jeanette, seeming to notice them for the first time.

“Oh, I understand,” she said angrily; “these two young women sat behind me in the street-car, and they must have overheard my conversation with a friend to whom I confided my plan of coming to you. Did they claim to be Miss Arundel? Which of them did?”

“Both!” said Mr. Irving, who had grown deeply interested in the queer affair. “They must have deceived each other as well as yourself.”

Dorothy and Jeanette were the personification of discovered culprits.

Dorothy’s face was buried in her handkerchief, and she shook convulsively, apparently with sobs, but really with suppressed laughter. Jeanette looked crestfallen, but still haughty and independent. Her manner seemed to say that she had been discovered, but she was ready to face the consequences.

“I own up,” she said, as Mr. Irving seemed to want an explanation. “This other young lady and myself overheard Miss Arundel, and we both tried to get the position ahead of her. I’m sorry we failed.”