Betty's Happy Year

“It’s a few days past the first of May, which is the real May-day,” said Mrs. Halstead, at breakfast, “but as it’s Irene’s birthday, we thought we’d celebrate it by a May party. So it’s an afternoon affair, from four to seven, and we’ll have a May-pole dance to wind up with.”

“And a May-queen?” asked Betty. “Queen Irene, of course.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Halstead, “Irene will be queen, as it’s her party. And all you girls must be ladies-in-waiting. You may make wreaths for yourselves and trim your dresses with flowers or garlands any way you choose. Now, scamper, and don’t bother me, for I’ve lots of things to attend to.”

“Mayn’t we help you, Mrs. Halstead?” asked Betty.

“No, my dear. There’s really nothing you could do to help. Indeed, you’ll assist me most by entertaining yourselves.”

“All right,” said Ethel. “As Maude has invited us to go to town with her, we’ll have that to entertain us this morning.”

But as they walked out of the dining-room and through the broad hall, Maude said:

“I’ll have to take back my invitation, girls. I’m not going to take you to get ice-cream this morning.”

“Why not?” cried Ethel, impulsively, and then, as they all saw that Maude did not smile, they felt rather uncomfortable.

For a few moments nobody spoke, and then Betty, to change the subject, said:

“All right; let’s play tennis, then.”

But there was a constraint over them all, and no one knew exactly why.

To be sure, it was strange for Maude to invite them to go for ice-cream, and then to recall her invitation so suddenly. But they each felt there was more than that in the air, and Maude looked so disturbed that it seemed there must be something serious the matter.

So strong was the conviction that it would prove embarrassing, that Betty repressed her inclination to invite the girls to take ice-cream with her instead of Maude.

Instinctively she felt she had better not do this, and so she proposed tennis instead.

Half-heartedly they went for their rackets, and as they went toward the courts, Irene and Maude fell behind and talked in whispers. Then they turned and went back to the house.

The other four went on, and had nearly finished a set of tennis when the two rejoined them.

Maude looked angry, and Irene looked as if she had been crying, but no questions were asked, and no information was offered as to the cause.

“Take my racket,” said Betty to Maude, “and play a set with Martha. I’d just as lief sit and watch you.”

“No, thank you,” said Maude. “I don’t care to play.”

Betty looked up suddenly at this, and saw Maude give Martha a contemptuous glance and turn away.

Martha turned red and looked dismayed, as she well might at such a speech.

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Betty, ready to take up the cudgels for Martha, if need be.

“Never you mind,” said Maude. “Martha knows what I mean!”

“I don’t!” stammered Martha, choking with mortification at being thus spoken to.

“Oh, yes, you do!” said Maude. “I’m very much obliged for your ice-cream!”

“Betty, what does she mean?” cried Martha, turning helplessly toward her friend.

“She doesn’t mean anything,” said Irene, looking angrily at Maude. “Mother told you to wait.”

Maude turned sullen, and refused to say anything. Betty looked mystified, but wasn’t sure whether she ought to insist on an explanation or not.

She had been responsible for bringing Martha, and if Maude didn’t like her, it was unfortunate, but to discuss it might only make matters worse.

Dorothy, with her ready tact, came to the rescue. “You four play,” she said, throwing down her racket, “and Maude and I will go for a row on the lake.”

Maude brightened up at this, and Betty concluded that she had been merely ill-tempered over nothing, after all.

“I’m going to tell you,” said Maude to Dorothy, as they pushed out on the lake, “but I promised Mrs. Halstead I wouldn’t say anything to Martha about it. I’ve lost five dollars, and I can’t help thinking she took it.”

“Who? Mrs. Halstead?”

“Mercy, no! Martha.”

“Never! I don’t believe it!”

“Well, didn’t you notice that new five-dollar bill she paid for the ice-cream with?”

“Yes.”

“It was exactly like mine. You see, I had a new, crisp bill that Father gave me to spend while I was here. And when we went to town yesterday, I thought I wouldn’t take it for fear I’d lose it. And Martha, or somebody, must have taken it, for when I got home it was gone.”

“I don’t believe Martha took it.”

“Who else could have done it? Mrs. Halstead says she knows her servants didn’t take it. She’s had them for years, and they’re perfectly honest. And you know how queerly Martha acted while she was paying for the ice-cream. She doesn’t have much money, does she?”

“No,” said Dorothy, reluctantly.

“Then how would she happen to have a new five-dollar bill just like mine, all of a sudden? And why would she act so embarrassed and queer about treating us to ice-cream?”

“Martha loves to treat,” said Dorothy, a little lamely. “But I’m sure she never took it,” she added doggedly. “I’m going to ask her.”

“No, you mustn’t. Mrs. Halstead said she’d make up the loss to me, but we must not speak to Martha about it. Of course I won’t take five dollars from Mrs. Halstead, but I promised I wouldn’t tell Martha that she took it.”

“You were very ‘uppish’ to her, though!”

“Well, who wouldn’t be? That bill was on the table in my bedroom, and Martha was in the room after I was. And when I came home, it was gone.”

“You were very careless to leave it on the table.”

“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to take it with me, so I stuck it behind a picture that stands on the table. Nobody would have seen it, but Martha knew it was there; she was in the room when I put it there.”

“Maybe it blew off the table.”