"Yes," said Betty, kindly.

"I'm awfully sorry you couldn't have your wish, too."

"My wish!" Betty repeated. "Oh, you mean about being on the team. I don't
mind about that, Helen. I guess I was needed more just where I was."

Helen puzzled over her answer until the supper-bell rang.

Betty's problem stayed with her all through the bustle of last days and
on into the Easter vacation. Even then she found only a doubtful
solution. She had thought that Mr. Blake's decision, of which Dorothy had
told her as soon as possible, would close the incident of the story. Now
she saw that the affair was not so easily disposed of. Beatrice Egerton
was an incalculable source of danger, but the chief trouble was Eleanor
herself. Somehow her attitude was wrong, though Betty could not exactly
tell how. She was in a false position, one that it would be difficult for
any one to maintain; and it was making her say and do things that people
like Jean, who did not understand, naturally misinterpreted. Why, even
she herself hated to meet Eleanor now. There was so much to hide and to
avoid talking about. And yet it would certainly be worse if everybody
knew. Betty puckered her smooth forehead into rows and rows of wrinkles
and still she saw no way out. She thought of consulting Nan, but she
couldn't bear to, when Nan had always been so pessimistic about Eleanor.

It was not until the vacation was over and Betty's train was pulling into
Harding that she had an idea. She gave a little exclamation. "I've got
it!"