“Won’t you come in?” Betsy asked. “We ought to be just about in time for refreshments.”
“I certainly will,” Tony replied.
The rugs had been rolled up in the music room and parlor. Mrs. Ray was at the piano, and four couples were dancing. Mrs. Ray knew how to play two dance tunes; a waltz and a two-step. She was playing the two-step now. Tony and Betsy took off their overshoes, and Tony swung Betsy into the dance.
Betsy had never been to a dance. But she had danced all her life. The rugs in the Ray house were often rolled up for an impromptu waltz or two-step to one of Mrs. Ray’s two tunes.
“Gosh, Betsy! You can dance,” said Tony.
“You’ve learned somewhere yourself,” Betsy replied. And indeed he had. None of the other boys in The Crowd danced much, but Tony danced with the feeling for rhythm that made his ragtime singing so exceptional. He danced with subtlety, inventing steps as he went and Betsy followed him perfectly without missing a beat.
By mutual accord, when the music paused, they dropped their wraps on the nearest chair, and when the music resumed they started dancing again.
It was a waltz this time, but not Mrs. Ray’s waltz. Looking around Betsy saw that her mother was dancing with Fred. Julia had sat down at the piano and she was playing, as only Julia could, the new hit waltz song, “Dreaming.”
“Dreaming, dreaming,
Of you sweetheart I am dreaming,
Dreaming of days when you loved me best,
Dreaming of hours that have gone to rest…”
Tony hummed a few bars in his rich deep voice.
Julia’s crowd, after calling out greetings, paid little attention to them. As for Tony and Betsy they forgot that the others were there. They did not speak to each other; they were too intent upon their dancing. Betsy danced on the tips of her toes. Standing so, she was just about Tony’s height, and they moved like one person.
“I believe I like dancing better than anything else in the world,” Betsy thought.
The music stopped, but to Betsy’s amazement Tony’s arms didn’t fall away. Instead they tightened, and she felt a kiss on her cheek. She looked, confused, into Tony’s laughing eyes.
“Wasn’t it smart of me to stop under the mistletoe?” he asked.
They were in the doorway between music room and parlor, and there was indeed a mischievous white-berried spray hanging above them. Blushing, Betsy pulled herself away.
This was different from the kiss she had had at Bonnie’s. No one had seen what had happened. No one was noticing them at all.
“It wasn’t fair. I’m mad at you,” said Betsy.
“Aw, come on! You’re not really mad. Are you?” He still held her hand. It was delicious.
“I am too,” said Betsy. “I’m not speaking to you.”
The Crowd was moving into the dining room where Anna had brought in the lighted chafing dish. Tony and Betsy followed; their hands parted.
After that, Betsy admitted reluctantly in thinking about it later, Tony acted exactly like himself. He joked with her mother, he joked with Julia, who tied on a ruffled apron and took charge of the chafing dish. And without ever quickening his gait, he managed to be extremely helpful which was always Tony’s way. He brought in the coffee, toasted wafers, passed plates filled with shrimp a la Newburg.
After refreshments there was a little more dancing and Tony danced with Katie and Dorothy, and Leo and Fred danced with Betsy. When the party broke up, Tony waved at her over a number of intervening heads.
“Swell time, Betsy!”
He seemed to have forgotten all about the moment under the mistletoe, but she couldn’t believe that. It must have been important to him since it was so world-shaking to her.
When she and Julia and her mother had at last finished discussing the party, and Betsy was ready for bed, she turned out the gas and went to the window. She looked out at the millions of stars; the smallest ones were only shining dust; she looked at the big calm moon that she and Tony had studied. She thought about Christmas night and the Ouija Board.
“Trouble!” she said. “Trouble!” Her tone was scornful. And yet the questioning joy that filled her, looking at the moon, was a little like trouble, at that.
19
The Winter Picnic
THE NEXT NIGHT THERE was another party. Parties came thick and fast in Deep Valley during holiday week. This one was a hen party. The boys not only were not invited, they were warned that the woodshed would be locked. There would be no stealing of refreshments tonight, Alice said.
The party was at Alice’s house, which was near Tacy’s but not on Hill Street. Her house nestled against a different fold of the hill. It was a long way from High Street, and Betsy was to stay all night with Bonnie in order to avoid the late walk home.
By request Betsy brought her Ouija Board, and after they had played games and admired Alice’s tree the girls took turns asking the Ouija Board highly personal questions.
“What is the name of Carney’s future husband?” laughed Bonnie, her soft plump fingers atop the magic table.
“Bonnie, stop!” cried Carney. But the table was already speeding about the board, spelling out “L-A-W-R-E-N-C-E.”
“Why doesn’t Tacy like boys?” asked Alice.
“But I do like them,” protested Tacy. “I just don’t think they are little tin gods.”
“All right, table,” said Alice. “What boy in The Crowd does Tacy like best?”
The table did not move.
“See?” said Tacy, but they waited.
At last, laggardly, it spelled out, “T-O-M.”
“Tom!” everyone shouted.
“Oh, well!” said Tacy unruffled. “It had to say something.”
Betsy and Tacy were running the table now.
“What does this week have in store for me?”
“Don’t ask that silly question, Betsy.”
“But I want to see what the board will say tonight.”
The table did not hesitate. Promptly it set about spelling out a word.
“T-R-O-U-B-L-E.”
“Well of all things!” cried Bonnie, while Betsy and Tacy looked with real perplexity into each other’s eyes. “Maybe you’re going to freeze your nose at the picnic tomorrow.”
“Or sprain your ankle when we go skating Saturday night,” said Alice.
That was the more likely mishap. Betsy had weak ankles; she was a miserable skater; she hated skating although she didn’t admit it any more. Since she had started going around with a Crowd, she always pretended radiantly to like whatever the others liked, and the others…Carney and Bonnie especially…adored skating.
Betsy barely listened to these clever conjectures. She thought about Tony and the kiss beneath the mistletoe, and her heart turned over. She hadn’t told anyone about that kiss. Not even Tacy.
Before she and Bonnie went to sleep that night, Bonnie grew confidential. In spite of Alice’s elaborate and delicious refreshments an hour earlier, Bonnie and Betsy had raided the Andrews’ icebox and brought to the bedroom cheese, apples, olives, cookies, cold ham, and some of Mrs. Andrews’ famous little mince pies. They sat on Bonnie’s bed in dressing gowns, their feet tucked under them, munching.
“Don’t you wish you could be crazy about someone, Betsy?” Bonnie asked. “Like Carney is about Larry, I mean? It must be wonderful.”
“Yes, it might be interesting,” said Betsy carelessly, thankful that Bonnie didn’t suspect her feeling for Tony.
“You don’t…do you, Betsy…have a crush on anyone?”
“Heavens, no!”
“Are you sure?” Bonnie’s tone was pressing.
“Positive. I don’t know why it is, but all the boys are alike to me.”
“Me, too. Pin is swell but I just can’t get thrilled about him.”
Bonnie nibbled mince pie thoughtfully.
“I heard something about Tony,” she said. Betsy waited, hardly breathing, and Bonnie went on. “I don’t believe it, thoug
h. I heard that he smokes cigarettes.”
“I don’t believe it either,” said Betsy. “Not for a minute.”
“I hope he doesn’t,” said Bonnie, looking worried. “He really is just about our age, though he seems so much older. He does seem older; don’t you think so, Betsy?”
Betsy agreed.
“It really worries me,” Bonnie said. And then they talked about the picnic planned for the next day.
As soon as they woke up they looked out the window to take stock of the weather. It was pleasant. Sunshine glittered on the drifts covering Bonnie’s lawn.
“It’s a curious idea, a picnic in December,” said Mrs. Andrews at breakfast. It was a very English breakfast, Betsy thought with satisfaction…ham, poached eggs, muffins, jam and tea.
“Don’t walk too far,” Dr. Andrews cautioned. “Remember the Christian Endeavor Christmas tree tonight.”
“I won’t forget, Papa. How could I? I’m on the decorating committee.”
After breakfast Bonnie remarked to Betsy, “I wish I could make Tony come to Christian Endeavor regularly. I think it would do him good.”
“Why…I suppose it would,” said Betsy.
“That smoking business!” A little line of worry appeared again between Bonnie’s wide calm brows. “Christian Endeavor would put a stop to that…if it’s true. Christian Endeavor has such a good influence on the boys.”
Betsy agreed that it had.
She hurried home to pack a picnic lunch and dress. She wore her heaviest dress, folded a red woollen muffler inside her coat and pulled on a red stocking cap, leaving a few curls outside to frame her face. She wore red mittens too.
Cab and Tony appeared with gunny sacks full of kindling over their shoulders. With Betsy they tramped to the Sibleys’ to meet Carney, Bonnie, Tom and the Humphreys boys. They joined the rest of the crowd at Alice’s house.
The sun shone benevolently causing the snow to glisten as though strewn with diamond dust. They went down Pleasant Street and up a little hill leaving the last house of Deep Valley proper behind. On the other side of the hill, lying in the wide white valley was the cluster of small houses known as Little Syria. In childhood Betsy and Tacy had reached it by another route for by some trick of geography it was also over their own Big Hill. It had been a favorite haunt with them, and Tacy drew near to Betsy now, and took her arm and squeezed it.
“Remember Naifi?” she asked.
“I wonder what’s become of her.”
“They left Deep Valley a long time ago.”
Betsy turned to Herbert who was swinging along beside them.
“Tacy and I once got to know the Syrians quite well.”
“How did that happen?” he asked, and Betsy and Tacy, laughing, told him of a long ago contest between Julia and Tib for the honor of being Queen of Summer, and of how it had ended with the coronation on Betsy’s lawn of a little Syrian girl named Naifi who was actually a princess.
“You’re fooling.”
“No, really. She was a Syrian emeera…that means princess.”
“Which house did she live in?” Herbert asked. They were now passing the settlement. The little houses were banked with snow; their roofs were laden with it. Woodsheds and chicken houses were almost submerged, and the only signs of life came from children building snow men on the lawns.
“She lived right here,” said Tacy pausing before a small house.
She squeezed Betsy’s arm again, and Betsy squeezed back as they walked on. It had been fun telling Herbert the story of that childhood adventure, such fun that she had not even thought of Tony. Usually she was conscious of his presence even when he was not near her, and as a matter of fact he was seldom far away. She looked about to see where he was.
Tramping through snow at the head of the party were Larry and Carney, hand in hand. Behind them Alice and Winona were accompanied by Pin, Cab and Tom. They had left Little Syria behind now but, turning around, Betsy saw Tony and Bonnie just passing Naifi’s house. They were walking very slowly.
“She must be talking to him about Christian Endeavor,” Betsy thought.
Larry and Carney paused and hailed The Crowd. Waving their arms to the east where a ridge of hill came down to meet the path and a frozen stream crossed it, they signified that they were turning off. Halfway up the glen a flat rock was soon swept clean of snow. The kindling brought from home was sufficient to start flames among piled branches.
At first the fire was a thing of bright beauty, leaping like a dancer. But it was allowed to burn down to a more serviceable glow. Sticks were sharpened, and wiener-wursts thrust upon them. The fragrant juices dripped into the embers.
“Gee, it smells good!” Winona said.
Alice put a pail of cocoa to heat. Carney and Bonnie were emptying the baskets, arranging buttered rolls, cookies, olives, and several cans of beans. Betsy and Tacy roasted their wienies with their arms about each other. It was good to be back picnicking beyond the Big Hill.
“After we eat,” said Tacy, “let’s follow this frozen brook up the glen. We’ll find a waterfall, I think.”
“Let’s,” said Betsy examining her wienie, cramming it into a roll and beginning to eat.
No one talked much and in fifteen minutes only a very small bird could have found a worthwhile tidbit. Then came snowballing and face washing and hilarious chases.
While Pin and Herbert washed Winona’s face, those natural housewives Carney and Bonnie replaced cups and spoons and napkins in the baskets. Betsy and Tacy with Tom and Cab went off to find the waterfall.
Tony, Betsy observed, was helping Bonnie with the unexpected efficiency she had observed so many times. Bonnie was talking earnestly, but he wore his most superior expression.
“She certainly is having a time,” Betsy thought, “getting him to promise to come to Christian Endeavor.” She didn’t exactly like these prolonged conferences. But she was happy to be exploring with Tacy. They found the frozen waterfall…icicles of every length made an iridescent drapery. They saw a cardinal flash against the snow. They found a bush with red berries and broke off a branch.
“You always take a bouquet home from a picnic,” Tacy said.
Betsy was happy and yet there was a prick of unhappiness underneath. Walking back to the rock she wondered whether Tony and Bonnie were still talking.
“Probably by now he’s fooling around with Winona,” she thought. “And Herbert and Pin are with Bonnie.”
But when they reached the picnic site neither Tony nor Bonnie were to be seen. Pin, Herbert and Winona were climbing trees; Larry and Carney were putting out the fire.
“Where are the rest of the kids?” Betsy asked casually, pretending that she wasn’t sure who was missing.
“Tony and Bonnie went on ahead,” Carney answered.
They had gone on ahead! Well, why shouldn’t they? Bonnie, Betsy remembered, had to help decorate the Christian Endeavor tree. It was early for that, though. Probably Bonnie had gotten cold? But Bonnie never got cold.
Betsy suddenly felt very cold indeed. The sun had disappeared. The world was pearl-colored from hill to hill upward and from hill to hill downward. Two saucers of pearl met around the horizon.
Betsy wound her red muffler more tightly and pulled down her stocking cap. She didn’t care how far she pulled it down now; she was willing to poke all her curls out of sight if Tony was not there to see.
“That cross country tramp did tire you,” her mother said at supper.
“No, it didn’t, Mamma.”
“You seem awfully tired.”
“I’m not tired, really.”
“I don’t think you ought to go to the Christian Endeavor party tonight.”
“Now you’re talking sense,” Mr. Ray put in. “She’s been to parties two nights running and she’s going to one or two more this week, if my ears haven’t deceived me.”
“Oh, no, Papa,” said Betsy. “Tomorrow night we’re going skating, that’s all. And coming up here for Welsh rarebit afte
rwards.”
“And you don’t call that a party? Well, it’s too much. Why do you want to go to a Presbyterian Christian Endeavor party, anyway? You’re a Baptist.”
“And an Episcopalian. She seems almost more Episcopalian than Baptist to me,” Margaret said innocently.
Betsy and Julia both squirmed.
“Oh, please let me go!” said Betsy. To her annoyance tears rushed into her eyes. “Maybe I am a little tired,” she added, wiping them quickly. “But I do want especially to go.”
“Well,” said her mother, weakening. “If you go upstairs and rest until time to dress it might be all right. Don’t you think so, Bob?”
“I suppose so,” said Mr. Ray. “And tomorrow night’s the skating, but the night after that you stay home. Do you hear?”
“Yes, Papa,” said Betsy readily. That night was the one night of the week for which there was no party planned.
Up in her own room she didn’t light the gas; she went to the window and looked out. The snow had the brilliant almost unearthly glow it often had at twilight.
“I must be tired,” she thought, taking off her dress and shoes and getting into her bathrobe. “Otherwise I wouldn’t feel so blue. There’s nothing to feel blue about.”
But she couldn’t get out of her mind the memory of Tony and Bonnie, lagging behind on the walk to the glen, and deep in conversation on the picnic rock. What had they done when they reached home, she wondered? Had Bonnie made him tea, as she did for the girls sometimes? Real English tea. It would have tasted good after their cold walk. Cold was becoming to Bonnie, too. It made her cheeks like roses.
“It makes my nose red,” Betsy thought, and tears came into her eyes.
She crawled into bed and buried her face in the pillow. The pillow was quite damp presently.
Julia came into the room.
“Do you feel all right, Bettina?”
“Just tired. Don’t light the gas.”
“I won’t. But when you’re ready to dress, I’ll do your hair. I want to try it in a pompadour.”
“Do you?” Betsy asked. Furtively she dried her cheeks on the blankets. She turned face up as Julia sat down beside her, smelling of her sweet cologne.
Heaven to Betsy / Betsy in Spite of Herself Page 14
