It was not till about a week later that he noticed Bettine Franklin.  Bettine was small and dark.  There was nothing “angelic” about her.  William had noticed her vaguely in school before and had hardly looked upon her as a distinct personality.  But one recreation in the playground he stood leaning against the wall by himself, scowling at Evangeline Fish.  She was surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and was prattling to them artlessly in her angelic voice.

“I’m going to be dressed in white muslin with a blue sash.  Blue suits me, you know.  I’m so fair.”  She tossed back a ringlet.  “One of you will have to hold my train and the rest must dance round me.  I’m going to have a crown and—­” She turned round in order to avoid the scowling gaze of William in the distance.  William had discovered that his scowl annoyed her, and since then had given it little rest.  But there was no satisfaction in scowling at the back of her well-curled head, so he relaxed his scowl and let his gaze wander round the playground.  And it fell upon Bettine.  Bettine was also standing by herself and gazing at Evangeline Fish.  But she was not scowling.  She was looking at Evangeline Fish with wistful envy.  For Evangeline Fish was “angelic” and a May Queen, and she was neither of these things.  William strolled over and lolled against the wall next to her.

“’Ullo!” he said, without looking at her, for this change of position had brought him again within range of Evangeline Fish’s eye, and he was once more simply one concentrated scowl.

“’Ullo,” murmured Bettine shyly and politely.

“You like pink rock?” was William’s next effort.

“Um,” said Bettine, nodding emphatically.

“I’ll give you some next time I buy some,” said William munificently, “but I shan’t be buying any for a long time,” he added bitterly, “’cause an ole ball slipped out my hands on to our dining-room window before I noticed it yesterday.”

She nodded understandingly.

“I don’t mind!” she said sweetly.  “I’ll like you jus’ as much if you don’t ever give me any rock.”

William blushed.

“I di’n’t know you liked me,” he said.

“I do,” she said fervently.  “I like your face an’ I like the things you say.”

William had forgotten to scowl.  He was one flaming mixture of embarrassment and delight.  He plunged his hands into his pockets and brought out two marbles, a piece of clay, and a broken toy gun.

“You can have ’em all,” he said in reckless generosity.

“You keep ’em for me,” said Bettine sweetly.

“I hope you dance next me at the Maypole when Evangeline’s Queen.  Won’t it be lovely?” and she sighed.

“Lovely?” exploded William.  “Huh!”

“Won’t you like it?” said Bettine wonderingly.

“Me!” exploded William again.  “Dancin’ round a pole!  Round that ole girl?”

“But she’s so pretty.”