Betty's Happy Year Page 7

  VI BETTY'S PRACTICAL JOKE

  One evening, soon after the bazaar, the McGuires were dining with theIrvings, and naturally were discussing the very successful entertainment.

  "And I think," Mr. Irving remarked, "that the young chap who took thepart of 'April Fool' was one of the hits of the evening. He was so merryand good-natured, and yet so full of quips and pranks, why, he nearlyfooled me two or three times!"

  "Oh, pshaw, Grandpa," said Betty, saucily, "it would be easy enough tofool you; you're so--so honest and good-natured, you know."

  Mr. Irving looked at the roguish, smiling face with pretended severity.

  "Indeed, Miss Curlyhead! So you think it easy to fool your simple-mindedold grandfather, do you? Well, little lady, you're greatly mistaken! Infact, you're quite wrong! Fool me! Humph! Why, when I was in college, theboys said I was the only one they could never play a practical joke on!"

  Mr. Irving looked very proud of his record for shrewdness, but his eyestwinkled as he saw Betty's incredulous smile.

  "All right, Miss Mischief," he went on, "if you doubt my word, try it.I'll wager you a hat you can't get off a joke upon your unsuspecting oldgrandfather that I don't see through before it reaches its climax. Foolme, indeed!"

  "I don't want to fool you, Grandpa," said Betty, demurely, "only I thinkI could--that's all."

  "You little rogue, you do, do you? Well, the burden of proof rests withyou."

  "You know you wagered a hat," said Betty, smiling; "did you mean it?"

  "Well, my child, I'll own up that I said 'wager a hat,' because that's aslang phrase--or at least it was in my youth--that doesn't mean anythingin particular, and I said it without thinking. But I'll stand by it. Youshall have the prettiest hat in Boston if you succeed in playing even themildest little joke on your old grandfather."

  "Now, Father," said Mrs. McGuire, "I don't think practical jokes are niceat all; and I don't think you ought to put Betty up to such nonsense."

  "As a rule, my dear, I agree with you; and I don't want Betty to get thehabit of doing such things. But this is an exceptional case. And, too, agood-natured joke does no harm, especially if the victim invites ithimself."

  "I think you're safe, Grandfather," said Jack. "I don't believe Betty oranybody else could fool you. You're too quick."

  "Thank you for that compliment, my boy," said Mr. Irving; "and then, too,remember that I am forewarned."

  "Yes," said Mrs. Irving, laughing at the conversation; "I think yourchances for a new hat from Grandfather are slim, Betty dear."

  "I really don't need a new hat--just now," said Betty, thoughtfully,"but, all the same, I'd like to win that one, and I'm going to try."

  Betty's dark head wagged in a determined fashion, and, after a littlefurther chaff, the subject was dropped.

  But the next day Betty took it up again with Jack.

  "I want to play a perfectly splendid joke on Grandpa," she said, "onethat he will remember all his life."

  "Well," returned Jack, "you're modest in your desires, aren't you!"

  "But I do want to, Jack. Think what fun it would be! Now, help me thinkof something, do!"

  "Let me see; I can't think of things in a minute, you know. But here'sone thing; next Friday is the first of April--you might play an AprilFool Joke."

  "Oh, yes," cried Betty, gleefully, "that's just the thing! Anything isallowable on April Fool's Day. Now, what shall it be?"

  "Betty, if you want a really fine affair, we must give some thought toit. Neither do we want any simple joke that we'd make up ourselves. Butlet's try something classic. Now there's an old story called 'Trajan'sJest,' or somebody's, and I'll look it up, and perhaps we can adapt it tomodern times."

  "Oh, Jack, I don't want any old Roman performance, with togas andsandals!"

  "No, goosey, not that. But just wait till I think it all out. Oh, Betty,it'll be fine! Just you wait!"

  So Betty waited while Jack looked into some reference books, and when hefound what he wanted, they soon had their heads together over the volume.After an hour of reading, chattering, laughing, and planning, Jack said:

  "And so, you see, it's all clear sailing, if you girls can only carry itout in the right way."

  "Oh, we can!" cried Betty. "Dorothy is so very dramatic, and Jeanettewill be lovely in her part. Mine is the hardest."

  "Of course it is; but it's your joke, you know. Shall we tell Motherabout it?"

  "I'd rather not--till it's over. It's all right, you know; she wouldn'tdisapprove, but she'd think we couldn't do it."

  "It seems as if you ought to tell her."

  "Oh, I'll tell her that we're going to play the joke. Here she comes now.Come in, Mother!"

  Mrs. McGuire came into the library where the children were. "What is it,dear?" she said.

  "Why, we've planned the joke for Grandpa," said Betty, her eyes dancingwith fun, "and it's going to take a lot of acting. And, Mother, I don'twant to tell you about it till it's all over. You don't mind, do you?"

  "No, child; that is--I suppose, of course, it's nothing wrong orimpolite."

  "Oh, no; it's all perfectly correct and proper. Dorothy and Jeanette andI are to do it, but Jack planned it all. And, Mother, we'll want the bigcarriage on Friday afternoon."

  "All right, deary; now, mind, you are quite sure, aren't you, I wouldn'tdisapprove?"

  "Yes, Mother," and Betty's honest eyes were clear and frank. "It's ajolly joke, but there's nothing wrong about it, is there, Jack?"

  "Not a thing," said Jack, chuckling. "I'll look out for the girls,Mother. The whole affair won't take an hour."

  "Very well, then; go on. Your grandfather will be as pleased asyourselves if it succeeds."

  There was much more planning, and then, when the whole affair wasexplained to Dorothy and Jeanette, they entered into the scheme withglee.

  "It'll be just like amateur theatricals!" cried Dorothy, clapping herhands. "We must rehearse our parts. Oh, won't it be fun?"

  "Can you dress up to look like a young lady?" said Jack. "Not a disguise,you know, but just make yourself look as if you were eighteen or twentyyears old?"

  "Oh, yes," declared Dorothy. "I'm almost sixteen, anyhow. And I'll wearone of sister Ethel's dresses, and do my hair up high. I'll wear a hat ofhers, too, one of her prettiest ones."

  "Oh, not too fancy, you know," warned Jack. "You must dress plainly."

  "All right; I'll wear a small hat and a dotted veil. Oh, I'll look grownup; never fear."

  "Jeanette will, too," said Betty; "she looks older than she is, anyhow.What'll you wear, Jean?"

  "I'll wear one of Mother's gowns," said Jeanette, smiling. "She's sosmall and slender, her things just about fit me. Black, I think, withwhite collar and cuffs."

  "I'll wear a long cloak," said Betty, "and a thick, dark veil, so Grandpacan scarcely see my face at all."

  "And glasses," said Jack. "I'll get you a pair of dark spectacles, so hewon't see your eyes at all. Now let's write the letter."

  Then, all suggesting, but Jack doing most of it, the following letter wascomposed, and was copied by Jeanette:

  Mr. William Irving,

  _Dear Sir_: Although I have been in more fortunate circumstances, I am now quite poor. I desire a position as secretary, and I apply to you, because my great-uncle Roger Arundel used to be in your class at college, and I have often heard him speak of your kind heart and generous disposition. I will call at your office, to see you about the matter, this afternoon at three o'clock. Please let me speak to you, even if you cannot give me a position.

  Yours truly, Frances Arundel.

  "Was there a Roger Arundel in Grandpa's class?" asked Betty, lookingadmiringly at the letter.

  "I don't know of any," said Jack; "I made up the name."

  "Then of course there wasn't," said Betty. "Why didn't you choose a namefrom his class list?"r />
  "Oh, I didn't quite like to do that. It didn't seem right. But it won'tmatter. You girls will have to manage the Roger Arundel item. Now, areyou sure you understand your parts? Come on, let's rehearse. I'll beGrandpa."

  They rehearsed for an hour or more, and declared they understood theirparts perfectly.

  "But you must disguise your voice more, Betty," said Jack. "Talk as ifyou had a cold in your throat."

  So Betty tried again and succeeded in achieving a hoarse, harsh whisper.

  "That'll do," said Jack, approvingly. "Talk like that and you'll be allright."

  At last the first of April came, and the other girls came over to Betty'sto start off together on their escapade.

  Mrs. McGuire had been taken into the secret at the last moment, thushaving had no chance inadvertently to give a hint to the unsuspectingvictim.

  She helped the three girls to make themselves look as much as possiblelike full-grown young ladies. And, indeed, the fact that they all worelong dresses and had their hair done up high so changed their appearancethat little further disguise was necessary.

  Dorothy wore a tailor-made suit of her sister's. It was of dark-bluecloth and somewhat worn, an old one having been chosen on purpose. Asmall blue straw hat, with a few roses, was very becoming, and the effectof it, with its carefully adjusted veil, was to make her look fullynineteen or twenty years old.

  Jeanette, in a plain little black suit and white shirt-waist, looked avery demure young lady. Her trim black hat showed no touch of color, andher sad little face assumed a pathetic expression that made Jack laugh.

  "You'll do, Jeanette!" he exclaimed; "you're just a picture of 'a younglady in reduced circumstances.'"

  But Betty was the most disguised of all. This was necessary, for Mr.Irving scarcely knew the other two girls, anyhow, and the success of thescheme all depended on his not recognizing Betty.

  She wore a plain, dark dress borrowed from Dorothy's sister. Over thiswas a long coat, rather loose and full, of tan-colored cloth.

  Her hair was drawn tightly back and done in a knot, and she wore large,dark spectacles. Already there was no resemblance left to Betty, but Mrs.McGuire added a thick, dark-brown veil, which was draped loosely over herface in old-fashioned style, and tied bunchily around her neck.

  "He'll never know you in the world, Betty!" declared Jack. "You're justall right! Now let's hear your voice."

  "Is this Mr. Irving?" said Betty, in such hoarse, raucous tones that theyall shrieked with laughter.

  "That'll do," said Jack, critically; "but don't overdo it. Remember, youdon't want Grandfather to suspect you. Now come on."

  Jack and the three girls got into the carriage and were driven to Mr.Irving's office in the city.

  It was half-past two when they reached the building. "Just right time toa dot," said Jack, looking at his watch. "Go on up, Dorothy; are younervous?"

  "Not a bit," returned Dorothy, smiling, as she left the carriage. "Besure to send the others in time."

  "Trust me!" said Jack, and Dorothy entered the big building and went upin the elevator.

  She went to Mr. Irving's offices, and was admitted by a clerk, who saidMr. Irving was in his private office, and asked the visitor's name.

  "No name is necessary," said Dorothy, in very grown-up tones. "I amexpected."

  She walked past the clerk and into the inner office. Mr. Irving looked ather in perplexity as she entered.

  "Miss Frances Arundel," said Dorothy, looking a little shy, as sheapproached the desk. "Didn't you get my note?"

  "Oh--'m--yes," said Mr. Irving, hastily turning over some notes andletters before him.

  "I am a bit early," went on Dorothy; "I wrote I would be here at threeo'clock, but I was so anxious to secure a position, I came earlier. Canyou employ me, sir?"

  She looked imploringly at Mr. Irving, who, to tell the truth, had quiteforgotten the note he had received an hour or so before. He had read ithastily and intended, when the writer came, to turn her over to hisclerk; but Dorothy's earnest face arrested his attention, and he pausedas he was about to ring the bell for his attendant.

  "You speak of Roger Arundel," he said, glancing at the note he held inhis hand. "I never knew any one by that name."

  "You didn't, sir?" Dorothy exclaimed, looking greatly surprised. "Why,wasn't he in your class at college?"

  "No, he was not," said Mr. Irving, decidedly. "What college did heattend?"

  "I don't know," faltered Dorothy, "but--it must have been some otherWilliam Irving, then. But, please, can't you find me some employment? Iam greatly in need of it!"

  Mr. Irving looked at the agitated girl, and felt sorry for her.

  "What can you do?" he said, not unkindly. "Have you had any experience inclerical work?"

  "Clerical work?" said Dorothy, opening her eyes. "Do you mean churchwork? I belong to the Sunday-school."

  It chanced that Dorothy had never heard the word "clerical" used before,and she imagined it referred to the clergy.

  Mr. Irving bit his lips to keep from smiling.

  "I mean office work," he said; "have you ever been in an office?"

  "Oh, no, sir; you see, we just lost our money lately. But I'm sure Icould learn."

  "Are you a stenographer? Can you type-write?"

  "No, not either. But I can write a good hand, and I'm quick at figures.Couldn't I copy letters for you? I'm very tidy about my papers."

  "H'm, well, we don't have our letters copied by hand. I'm afraid, MissArundel, I can't give you a position."

  "Oh, please, sir,"--Dorothy's lip quivered a little,--"we're quite poor.Mother tried to take in sewing, but she's ill now, and--and I'm the onlysupport of the family. Do let me address envelopes or something!"

  Mr. Irving was very much embarrassed. He had never had an experience justlike this before. Clearly, the girl was a refined little gentlewoman, andall unused to the business world.

  He judged her to be about eighteen or twenty, and wondered what he coulddo for her.

  He looked over the letter again.

  "You say your great-uncle spoke of me? Where is your uncle now?"

  "He's--he's not living, sir," said Dorothy, looking down. "And I'm sureyou're the Mr. Irving he meant, because he said you were sokind-hearted."

  Naturally this touched the old gentleman's heart, and he truly wanted tohelp the girl. But in his office he employed only skilled workers, andthere was no place for Dorothy.

  "Bless my soul, child," he exclaimed, "I don't know what to do with you!Arundel--Roger Arundel. No, he was not in my class, but he may have beenin the college while I was there. However, I'd be glad to help you if Icould,--but I can't think of a thing for you to do."

  "No?" said Dorothy, but with a hopeful inflection in her tone, as ifperhaps he might yet think of something.

  "You see," she went on, "I simply _must_ get work. So of course I camehere first, I felt so sure you'd help me if you could."

  "Yes--yes; of course. Now, let me see--let me see. You say you're good atfigures?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, suppose you try adding up these columns."

  Mr. Irving took down a book of accounts, and opened it at random.

  "Here now, here now," he said, "don't put your figures on the page; theymay be wrong. Add these columns on a separate sheet of paper--so--and letme think what I can do for you."

  Dorothy took the pad of paper and the pencil he gave her, and going to aseat at a side-table, she began to add. So excited was she over the waythe plan was working, she could scarcely see the figures at all, but sheadded away industriously, now and then peeping at Mr. Irving.

  He was intently studying the note, and occasionally he would look offinto space, as if trying to recall Mr. Roger Arundel!

  In a few moments the door opened, and the office boy said: "A lady to seeyou, sir."

  "What name?" said Mr. Irving.

  "Here it is, sir; she just wrote it on this paper."

  Mr. Irving took the paper from the b
oy, and read on it, "Miss FrancesArundel." He gave a start and glanced at Dorothy. She was looking at himwith 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, whowas fast getting bewildered.

  "I wrote it," said Jeanette, calmly. "I hope you can give me some work todo."

  "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 ladyis? 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 wrotethat letter you hold in your hand, and I have called to see if you cangive me a position."

  "You wrote this letter?"

  "Of course I did. I also wrote on the paper which I just gave to youroffice boy. If you will compare the two, you'll find them the samepenmanship."

  This seemed sensible enough, and Mr. Irving looked at both papers, and asJeanette had written the letter, a glance was sufficient to show thatthey 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 thestreet-car saying she was coming to see you to-day, to ask you for aposition, so I thought I'd come ahead of her, and--and--maybe I could getit. I need it more than she does."

  Dorothy cast a beseeching glance at Jeanette, who returned it with ahaughty 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 aposition, not out of charity, but because my uncle was your chum atcollege, 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 thesame. I'm a competent secretary, and can give satisfaction, I'm sure."

  Mr. Irving was at his wits' end. He looked at the two youngladies--Dorothy crumpling her handkerchief into her eyes, and lookingvery forlorn and pathetic; Jeanette rather haughty and dignified, with anair of standing her ground in spite of the impostor who was trying totake her place.

  "You are experienced, you say?" he said, turning to Jeanette, andthinking that, if she were indeed competent, he might find a place forher.

  "Yes, sir," she replied, taking off her gloves; "shall I go right towork?"

  "Oh, bless my soul, no!" cried the flurried old gentleman. "I haven'tengaged 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 herhead, 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 intoyour case later. It seems to me you were pretty sharp to pick upinformation on a street-car and put it to use so quickly! Did youoverhear all that Arundel business, too?"

  "Yes, sir," stammered Dorothy, who was, in truth, nearly choking withlaughter.

  "Well, you're a quick-witted young person, whatever else you may be. Nowyou go on and add. Miss Arundel, I'll talk with you. You say you've hadexperience. Where have you worked?"

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

  "Mr. Irving, I am Miss Arundel. I called to see you in hopes you couldgive me employment of some sort."

  "Three of 'em!" exclaimed Mr. Irving. "Bless my soul!" And he sathelplessly looking at the three girls.

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

  The other two he had seen but once or twice, and of course did notrecognize them in grown-up attire.

  Not a notion of a "joke" entered his mind, but he was mystified by whatappeared 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 youabout--"

  "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. "Ijust 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. Irvingalmost shouted.

  "Yes," said Betty, seemingly pleased, "but how did you know about UncleRoger?"

  "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 representedme."

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

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

  "Oh, I understand," she said angrily; "these two young women sat behindme in the street-car, and they must have overheard my conversation with afriend to whom I confided my plan of coming to you. Did they claim to beMiss Arundel? Which of them did?"

  "Both!" said Mr. Irving, who had grown deeply interested in the queeraffair. "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 shookconvulsively, apparently with sobs, but really with suppressed laughter.Jeanette looked crestfallen, but still haughty and independent. Hermanner seemed to say that she had been discovered, but she was ready toface the consequences.

  "I own up," she said, as Mr. Irving seemed to want an explanation. "Thisother young lady and myself overheard Miss Arundel, and we both tried toget the position ahead of her. I'm sorry we failed."

  Jeanette's high and mighty air was almost too much for Betty, but, as aspasm of laughter seized her, she managed to turn it into a fit ofcoughing.

  "I have a fearful cold," she said, still whispering hoarsely, "but itwill be better soon. Did you say you had a position for me? I need moneyvery much and I know you'll help me, won't you?"

  "Bless my soul! I don't know!" exclaimed poor Mr. Irving, who was totallybewildered now by the trio of poverty-stricken girls. "I don't give outpositions. My assistants do that. What do you want, anyhow?"

  A short pause followed this sentence, and then, throwing off her veilwith one hand, and pulling off her glasses with the other, Betty cried:

  "I want a hat, Grandpa! I want a hat!"

  "Bless my soul!" gasped Mr. Irving, dropping back into his chair."_Betty!_ bless my soul!" and then, as the other girls took off theirveils and broke into bursts of laughter, Betty snatched up the deskcalendar, which stood at April 1, and held it before her grandfather'sdazed eyes.

  Rapidly, then, it dawned upon him. The laughing girls, the date of April1, and Betty's demand for a hat, were the missing links to a fullunderstanding of it all.

  "A perfect success, Betty!" cried Jack, coming up to the jolly group whenhe heard the laughter.

  "Was it!" cried Betty; "_was_ it, Grandpa?"

  "You scamp!" he cried; "you rogue! you mischief!" and seizing Betty, hekissed her rosy cheeks in hearty appreciation of her clever practicaljoke.

  "Well, I should say it was!" exclaimed Mr. Irving, who was, as Mrs.McGuire had prophesied, quite as much pleased with the whole thing aswere the jokers themselves. Then Dorothy and Jeanette were greatlycomplimented on th
eir pretty acting; and Jack, as his share of theperformance was explained, also received commendation from the oldgentleman.

  "The very best joke ever!" Mr. Irving exclaimed, going off again andagain in peals of laughter. "How did you get in, Betty? I've given ordersto admit no one when I'm busy."

  "Oh, I just told them I was Betty," she replied. "The boy looked at mesuspiciously at first, but when I spoke without my 'cold,' of course heknew me!"

  "You little witch! Nobody ever tricked me before! Now, you, each of you,and Jack too, can get the very best hats you can find in Boston and sendthe bill to me."

  "Oh, goody, Grandpa, that will be great fun!" cried Betty. "But you gowith us, won't you, to pick them out?"

  "Yes, I'll go right now."

  "No; we can't go in these rigs. But we'll hurry home and put on our ownfrocks; then we'll come back here for you, and we'll all go hatting."

  "Very well; don't be long."

  "No, sir; we'll be back in half an hour."

  And so they were.