something else, too. You'll see me going at things next term the way T.
Reed went at that ball."

"You're one of the most energetic persons I know, as it is," said
Rachel, smiling at her earnestness.

"Yes," said Betty impatiently. "I fly around and make a great commotion,
but I fritter away my time, because I forget to keep my eyes on the
ball. Why, I haven't done anything this year."

Katherine pulled Betty down beside her on the couch. "Child, you've done
a lot," she said. "We were just considering all you've done, and
wondering why you weren't asked to usher to-day. You've sub-subed a lot
and you know so many girls on the team and are such good friends with
Jean Eastman."

To her consternation Betty felt a hot flush creeping up her neck and
over her cheeks. It had been the one consolation in the trouble with
Eleanor that none of the Chapin house girls had asked any questions or
even appeared to notice that anything was wrong.

"Oh, I don't know Miss Eastman much," she said quickly. "And as for
substituting on the subs, that was a great privilege. That wasn't
anything to make me an usher for."

"Well, all the other girls who did it much ushered," persisted
Katherine. "Christy Mason and Kate Denise and that little Ruth Ford. And
you'd have made such a stunning one."

"Goosie!" said Betty, rising abruptly. "I know you girls want to go to
bed. We'll talk it all over to-morrow."

As she closed the door, Rachel and Katherine exchanged glances. "I told
you there was trouble," said Katherine, "and mark my words, Eleanor
Watson is at the bottom of it somehow."

"Don't let's notice it again, though," answered the considerate Rachel.
"She evidently doesn't want to tell us about it."

Betty undressed almost in silence. Her exhilaration had left her all at
once and her ambition; life looked very complicated and unprofitable. As
she went over to turn out the light, she noticed a sheet of paper, much
erased and interlined, on Helen's desk. "Have you begun your song
already?" she asked.

"Oh, no, I wrote a theme," said Helen with what seemed needless
embarrassment. But the theme was a little verse called "Happiness." She
got it back the next week heavily under-scored in red ink, and with a
succinct "Try prose," beneath it; but she was not discouraged. She had
had one turn; she could afford to wait patiently for another, which, if
you tried long enough and cared hard enough must come at last.

CHAPTER XVI

A C