Betty Bonnet May 1915

Betty Bonnet is an ongoing serial story, released on the Sheep Among Wolves blog once a month. It follows the adventures of the Bonnet family, first created by Sheila Young as a paper doll series released in the Ladies’ Home Journal beginning 1915. To go to the first episode, click here.

I.

Spring is nearly over now. Summer is fairly upon us.

In another fortnight, Belle and Birdie will be coming home from school and college for their respective holidays. And in the back garden, the tennis net has emerged from its long winter’s sleep.

Betty and I know, for we spent the prime of Saturday helping Bob put it up.

“I say, Dad, it’s about dry enough for tennis now, isn’t it?” said Bob at breakfast on Saturday morning.

Considering the fact that it had rained all the week before—and showed every prospect of raining all the week to come—this was a rather optimistic way of putting it.

Mr. Bonnet glanced out the window.

It was not actually raining at the moment.

Bob pasted on his most irresistible face. Billy screwed up his round little cheeks into as authentic an imitation of Bob’s as he could muster. Even Betty got carried away by her feelings so much that she bounced in her chair and nearly upset her milk.

II.

“But you don’t really want to play tennis until Belle gets home,” interposed Mrs. Bonnet, who had never gotten over the expectation that her bow window was going to come into inconvenient collision with a stray tennis ball one of these days—particularly without one of the “big girls” around to keep an eye on matters.

“That’s just it, Mother,” Bob interposed. “I want to get into form before Belle gets home. Dare say they’re out on the courts already at her school. And I’d have beaten her—foot, horse and artillery—if I’d only got going soon enough last summer!”

Bob and Belle take tennis very seriously.

Too seriously, Mrs. Bonnet thinks.

But then, Mrs. Bonnet has, as aforementioned, a fine glass bow window to take into consideration.

“Why don’t you stay in, and play battledore and shuttlecock,” suggested Mr. Bonnet, turning back to the Financial Supplement. “That’s the right thing for a rainy day.”

“After all, it isn’t so very wet outside,” said Mrs. Bonnet and I suddenly, at the same time.

Bob had “stayed in and played battledore and shuttlecock” last Saturday. The household was only just getting over the effects.

“At least outdoors you are outdoors,” I explained hastily. “And there aren’t any—chandeliers—or things—overhead.”

Mr. Bennet squinted at the window again. His eyes twinkled a little. “Well, you may put the tennis net up,” he said to Bob. “If you can get somebody responsible to help you.”

III.

“You know,” I said, half an hour later, as I surveyed the heap of ropes, stakes, and net tangled together on the garden walk, “there are moments when I have doubts whether I am a responsible person, after all.”

“Oh, don’t shirk off now!” said Bob, giving a masterful tug to the other end of what was supposed to be the net.

“It’s not necessarily shirking to realize the boundaries of one’s own limitations. Would you call it shirking, or foresight, if a—well, if a short distance sprinter, for instance, should decline to participate in a marathon?”

“Anybody can put up a tennis net,” said Bob, as he sent the free end of his tackle flying into the neighbour’s rose bushes.

“I’m not disputing that anybody can put it up,” I explained, as Bob and Betty went splashing off through the garden gate in full pursuit. “What we really want, is somebody who can put it up in such a position that someone else can play tennis on it, afterwards. Preferably without breaking anything really essential in the neighbour’s garden,” I added, as Bob and Betty came back, looking a little scratched, but bearing most of the net triumphantly with them.

IV.

“You hold that corner,” said Bob authoritatively.

I did so.

Betty held another.

Billy—who was hanging about in hopes of being asked to do something useful—was assigned to a third.

“Now when I give the word—” said Bob. “No, wait a minute, do I want the other side up first?”

Betty, Billy and I held tenaciously to our posts.

“Yes, that’s alright!” said Bob, looking relieved. By a marvelous feat of gymnastics, he held onto his own corner with one toe, and got the lefthand post (lefthand as viewed from the bow window) into position.

“Haven’t you got to stake it first?” asked Betty helpfully.

“But I can’t know where to stake it, until I see how much room the net takes up,” objected Bob.

“I thought they measured it with a—measuring thing,” explained Betty.

Bother.

Bob had forgotten about this.

We all laid our corners of the net carefully down.

V.

Bob went away for “a measuring thing.” He came back with a yardstick.

“How wide is it supposed to be?” somebody demanded.

“It’s a very funny thing,” I admitted.

We stood around and looked at each other.

None of our looks were very helpful.

“Dad’s gone up to the office,” said Bob scrunching up his nose. “Belle would know, but that’s no good if I’m to get some practice in before she gets home.”

“You might telegraph,” I suggested. “‘Width of standard tennis court. Answer at once.’”

“Or telephone,” added Betty. “Only it isn’t an emergency. And it is long distance.”

“I’ve a better idea,” said Bob. “Let’s go to the library.”

Betty and Billy and I looked at each other.

“Let’s!” I said.

VI.

It really was a stroke of genius.

Of course, the New York Public Library—somewhere—has got a book that gives the dimensions of a tennis court.

Personally, I shouldn’t be surprised if it were in the encyclopaedia, somewhere towards the front of the “T” volume.

But in the meantime, Billy is very happy in the middle of a shelf of picture books. And Betty, curled up in a window seat with a book about beagle puppies, is even happier still. While Bob, rummaging industriously through The Boy’s Own Outdoor Book has the greatest felicity of being sure he will turn up the information he came in search of, any moment.

Perhaps he will.

At any rate, for the time being, we are all very happy.

I turn back to my novel with a contented sigh.

Outdoors, it has begun raining again. Somewhere, in the back garden, the tennis net is getting wet.

But spring is almost over. Summer is fairly upon us.

In another fortnight, Belle and Birdie will be coming home from school.

Yes, in another fortnight, or thereabouts, the tennis net will have done more than emerge from its winter’s sleep.

In another fortnight, Bob will have found somebody to help him put it up.

(To be continued.)

If you missed last month’s episode of Betty Bonnet you can find it below:

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