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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5347-0.txt b/5347-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7aa800c --- /dev/null +++ b/5347-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5270 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Understood Betsy + +Author: Dorothy Canfield + +Release Date: March 1, 2004 [eBook #5347] +[Most recently updated: January 20, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +Revised by Richard Tonsing. + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY *** + + + + +UNDERSTOOD BETSY + + +BY + +DOROTHY CANFIELD +Author of “The Bent Twig,” etc. + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY +ADA C. WILLIAMSON + + + + +[Illustration: Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the +top of one spectacle-glass. (Page 34)] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I Aunt Harriet Has a Cough + II Betsy Holds the Reins + III A Short Morning + IV Betsy Goes to School + V What Grade is Betsy? + VI If You Don’t Like Conversation in a Book Skip this Chapter! + VII Elizabeth Ann Fails in an Examination + VIII Betsy Starts a Sewing Society + IX The New Clothes Fail + X Betsy Has a Birthday + XI “Understood Aunt Frances” + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise +over the top of one spectacle-glass Frontispiece + +Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor. +“Do you know,” said Aunt Abigail, “I think +it’s going to be real nice, having a little girl +in the house again” + +She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair. + +“Oh, he’s asking for more!” cried Elizabeth Ann + +Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and started across + +“What’s the matter, Molly? What’s the matter?” + +Betsy and Ellen and the old doll + +He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms + +Never were dishes washed better! + +Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her +lips and winking her eyes + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AUNT HARRIET HAS A COUGH + + +When this story begins, Elizabeth Ann, who is the heroine of it, was a +little girl of nine, who lived with her Great-aunt Harriet in a +medium-sized city in a medium-sized State in the middle of this country; +and that’s all you need to know about the place, for it’s not the +important thing in the story; and anyhow you know all about it because +it was probably very much like the place you live in yourself. + +Elizabeth Ann’s Great-aunt Harriet was a widow who was not very rich or +very poor, and she had one daughter, Frances, who gave piano lessons to +little girls. They kept a “girl” whose name was Grace and who had asthma +dreadfully and wasn’t very much of a “girl” at all, being nearer fifty +than forty. Aunt Harriet, who was very tender-hearted, kept her chiefly +because she couldn’t get any other place on account of her coughing so +you could hear her all over the house. + +So now you know the names of all the household. And this is how they +looked: Aunt Harriet was very small and thin and old, Grace was very +small and thin and middle-aged, Aunt Frances (for Elizabeth Ann called +her “Aunt,” although she was really, of course, a +first-cousin-once-removed) was small and thin and if the light wasn’t +too strong might be called young, and Elizabeth Ann was very small and +thin and little. And yet they all had plenty to eat. I wonder what was +the matter with them? + +It was certainly not because they were not good, for no womenkind in all +the world had kinder hearts than they. You have heard how Aunt Harriet +kept Grace (in spite of the fact that she was a very depressing person) +on account of her asthma; and when Elizabeth Ann’s father and mother +both died when she was a baby, although there were many other cousins +and uncles and aunts in the family, these two women fairly rushed upon +the little baby-orphan, taking her home and surrounding her henceforth +with the most loving devotion. + +They had said to themselves that it was their manifest duty to save the +dear little thing from the other relatives, who had no idea about how to +bring up a sensitive, impressionable child, and they were sure, from the +way Elizabeth Ann looked at six months, that she was going to be a +sensitive, impressionable child. It is possible also that they were a +little bored with their empty life in their rather forlorn, little brick +house in the medium-sized city, and that they welcomed the occupation +and new interests which a child would bring in. + +But they thought that they chiefly desired to save dear Edward’s child +from the other kin, especially from the Putney cousins, who had written +down from their Vermont farm that they would be glad to take the little +girl into their family. But “ANYTHING but the Putneys!” said Aunt +Harriet, a great many times. They were related only by marriage to her, +and she had her own opinion of them as a stiffnecked, cold-hearted, +undemonstrative, and hard set of New Englanders. “I boarded near them +one summer when you were a baby, Frances, and I shall never forget the +way they were treating some children visiting there! ... Oh, no, I don’t +mean they abused them or beat them ... but such lack of sympathy, such +perfect indifference to the sacred sensitiveness of child-life, such a +starving of the child-heart ... No, I shall never forget it! They had +chores to do ... as though they had been hired men!” + +Aunt Harriet never meant to say any of this when Elizabeth Ann could +hear, but the little girl’s ears were as sharp as little girls’ ears +always are, and long before she was nine she knew all about the opinion +Aunt Harriet had of the Putneys. She did not know, to be sure, what +“chores” were, but she took it confidently from Aunt Harriet’s voice +that they were something very, very dreadful. + +There was certainly neither coldness nor hardness in the way Aunt +Harriet and Aunt Frances treated Elizabeth Ann. They had really given +themselves up to the new responsibility, especially Aunt Frances, who +was very conscientious about everything. As soon as the baby came there +to live, Aunt Frances stopped reading novels and magazines, and re-read +one book after another which told her how to bring up children. And she +joined a Mothers’ Club which met once a week. And she took a +correspondence course in mothercraft from a school in Chicago which +teaches that business by mail. So you can see that by the time Elizabeth +Ann was nine years old Aunt Frances must have known all that anybody can +know about how to bring up children. And Elizabeth Ann got the benefit +of it all. + +She and her Aunt Frances were simply inseparable. Aunt Frances shared in +all Elizabeth Ann’s doings and even in all her thoughts. She was +especially anxious to share all the little girl’s thoughts, because she +felt that the trouble with most children is that they are not +understood, and she was determined that she would thoroughly understand +Elizabeth Ann down to the bottom of her little mind. Aunt Frances (down +in the bottom of her own mind) thought that her mother had never REALLY +understood her, and she meant to do better by Elizabeth Ann. She also +loved the little girl with all her heart, and longed, above everything +in the world, to protect her from all harm and to keep her happy and +strong and well. + +And yet Elizabeth Ann was neither very strong nor well. And as to her +being happy, you can judge for yourself when you have read all this +story. She was very small for her age, with a rather pale face and big +dark eyes which had in them a frightened, wistful expression that went +to Aunt Frances’s tender heart and made her ache to take care of +Elizabeth Ann better and better. + +Aunt Frances was afraid of a great many things herself, and she knew how +to sympathize with timidity. She was always quick to reassure the little +girl with all her might and main whenever there was anything to fear. +When they were out walking (Aunt Frances took her out for a walk up one +block and down another every single day, no matter how tired the music +lessons had made her), the aunt’s eyes were always on the alert to avoid +anything which might frighten Elizabeth Ann. If a big dog trotted by, +Aunt Frances always said, hastily: “There, there, dear! That’s a NICE +doggie, I’m sure. I don’t believe he ever bites little girls.... MERCY! +Elizabeth Ann, don’t go near him! ... Here, darling, just get on the +other side of Aunt Frances if he scares you so” (by that time Elizabeth +Ann was always pretty well scared), “and perhaps we’d better just turn +this corner and walk in the other direction.” If by any chance the dog +went in that direction too, Aunt Frances became a prodigy of valiant +protection, putting the shivering little girl behind her, threatening +the animal with her umbrella, and saying in a trembling voice, “Go away, +sir! Go AWAY!” + +Or if it thundered and lightened, Aunt Frances always dropped everything +she might be doing and held Elizabeth Ann tightly in her arms until it +was all over. And at night—Elizabeth Ann did not sleep very well—when +the little girl woke up screaming with a bad dream, it was always dear +Aunt Frances who came to her bedside, a warm wrapper over her nightgown +so that she need not hurry back to her own room, a candle lighting up +her tired, kind face. She always took the little girl into her thin arms +and held her close against her thin breast. “TELL Aunt Frances all about +your naughty dream, darling,” she would murmur, “so’s to get it off your +mind!” + +She had read in her books that you can tell a great deal about +children’s inner lives by analyzing their dreams, and besides, if she +did not urge Elizabeth Ann to tell it, she was afraid the sensitive, +nervous little thing would “lie awake and brood over it.” This was the +phrase she always used the next day to her mother when Aunt Harriet +exclaimed about her paleness and the dark rings under her eyes. So she +listened patiently while the little girl told her all about the fearful +dreams she had, the great dogs with huge red mouths that ran after her, +the Indians who scalped her, her schoolhouse on fire so that she had to +jump from a third-story window and was all broken to bits—once in a +while Elizabeth Ann got so interested in all this that she went on and +made up more awful things even than she had dreamed, and told long +stories which showed her to be a child of great imagination. But all +these dreams and continuations of dreams Aunt Frances wrote down the +first thing the next morning, and, with frequent references to a thick +book full of hard words, she tried her best to puzzle out from them +exactly what kind of little girl Elizabeth Ann really was. + +There was one dream, however, that even conscientious Aunt Frances never +tried to analyze, because it was too sad. Elizabeth Ann dreamed +sometimes that she was dead and lay in a little white coffin with white +roses over her. Oh, that made Aunt Frances cry, and so did Elizabeth +Ann. It was very touching. Then, after a long, long time of talk and +tears and sobs and hugs, the little girl would begin to get drowsy, and +Aunt Frances would rock her to sleep in her arms, and lay her down ever +so quietly, and slip away to try to get a little nap herself before it +was time to get up. + +At a quarter of nine every weekday morning Aunt Frances dropped whatever +else she was doing, took Elizabeth Ann’s little, thin, white hand +protectingly in hers, and led her through the busy streets to the big +brick school-building where the little girl had always gone to school. +It was four stories high, and when all the classes were in session there +were six hundred children under that one roof. You can imagine, perhaps, +the noise there was on the playground just before school! Elizabeth Ann +shrank from it with all her soul, and clung more tightly than ever to +Aunt Frances’s hand as she was led along through the crowded, shrieking +masses of children. Oh, how glad she was that she had Aunt Frances there +to take care of her, though as a matter of fact nobody noticed the +little thin girl at all, and her very own classmates would hardly have +known whether she came to school or not. Aunt Frances took her safely +through the ordeal of the playground, then up the long, broad stairs, +and pigeonholed her carefully in her own schoolroom. She was in the +third grade,—3A, you understand, which is almost the fourth. + +Then at noon Aunt Frances was waiting there, a patient, never-failing +figure, to walk home with her little charge; and in the afternoon the +same thing happened over again. On the way to and from school they +talked about what had happened in the class. Aunt Frances believed in +sympathizing with a child’s life, so she always asked about every little +thing, and remembered to inquire about the continuation of every +episode, and sympathized with all her heart over the failure in mental +arithmetic, and triumphed over Elizabeth Ann’s beating the Schmidt girl +in spelling, and was indignant over the teacher’s having pets. Sometimes +in telling over some very dreadful failure or disappointment Elizabeth +Ann would get so wrought up that she would cry. This always brought the +ready tears to Aunt Frances’s kind eyes, and with many soothing words +and nervous, tremulous caresses she tried to make life easier for poor +little Elizabeth Ann. The days when they had cried they could neither of +them eat much luncheon. + +After school and on Saturdays there was always the daily walk, and there +were lessons, all kinds of lessons—piano lessons of course, and +nature-study lessons out of an excellent book Aunt Frances had bought, +and painting lessons, and sewing lessons, and even a little French, +although Aunt Frances was not very sure about her own pronunciation. She +wanted to give the little girl every possible advantage, you see. They +were really inseparable. Elizabeth Ann once said to some ladies calling +on her aunts that whenever anything happened in school, the first thing +she thought of was what Aunt Frances would think of it. + +“Why is that?” they asked, looking at Aunt Frances, who was blushing +with pleasure. + +“Oh, she is so interested in my school work! And she UNDERSTANDS me!” +said Elizabeth Ann, repeating the phrases she had heard so often. + +Aunt Frances’s eyes filled with happy tears. She called Elizabeth Ann to +her and kissed her and gave her as big a hug as her thin arms could +manage. Elizabeth Ann was growing tall very fast. One of the visiting +ladies said that before long she would be as big as her auntie, and a +troublesome young lady. Aunt Frances said: “I have had her from the time +she was a little baby and there has scarcely been an hour she has been +out of my sight. I’ll always have her confidence. You’ll always tell +Aunt Frances EVERYTHING, won’t you, darling?” Elizabeth Ann resolved to +do this always, even if, as now, she often had to invent things to tell. + +Aunt Frances went on, to the callers: “But I do wish she weren’t so thin +and pale and nervous. I suppose it is the exciting modern life that is +so bad for children. I try to see that she has plenty of fresh air. I go +out with her for a walk every single day. But we have taken all the +walks around here so often that we’re rather tired of them. It’s often +hard to know how to get her out enough. I think I’ll have to get the +doctor to come and see her and perhaps give her a tonic.” To Elizabeth +Ann she added, hastily: “Now don’t go getting notions in your head, +darling. Aunt Frances doesn’t think there’s anything VERY much the +matter with you. You’ll be all right again soon if you just take the +doctor’s medicine nicely. Aunt Frances will take care of her precious +little girl. SHE’ll make the bad sickness go away.” Elizabeth Ann, who +had not known before that she was sick, had a picture of herself lying +in the little white coffin, all covered over with white.... In a few +minutes Aunt Frances was obliged to excuse herself from her callers and +devote herself entirely to taking care of Elizabeth Ann. + +So one day, after this had happened several times, Aunt Frances really +did send for the doctor, who came briskly in, just as Elizabeth Ann had +always seen him, with his little square black bag smelling of leather, +his sharp eyes, and the air of bored impatience which he always wore in +that house. Elizabeth Ann was terribly afraid to see him, for she felt +in her bones he would say she had galloping consumption and would die +before the leaves cast a shadow. This was a phrase she had picked up +from Grace, whose conversation, perhaps on account of her asthma, was +full of references to early graves and quick declines. + +And yet—did you ever hear of such a case before?—although Elizabeth +Ann when she first stood up before the doctor had been quaking with fear +lest he discover some deadly disease in her, she was very much hurt +indeed when, after thumping her and looking at her lower eyelid inside +out, and listening to her breathing, he pushed her away with a little +jerk and said: “There’s nothing in the world the matter with that child. +She’s as sound as a nut! What she needs is ...”—he looked for a moment +at Aunt Frances’s thin, anxious face, with the eyebrows drawn together +in a knot of conscientiousness, and then he looked at Aunt Harriet’s +thin, anxious face with the eyebrows drawn up that very same way, and +then he glanced at Grace’s thin, anxious face peering from the door +waiting for his verdict—and then he drew a long breath, shut his lips +and his little black case very tightly, and did not go on to say what it +was that Elizabeth Ann needed. + +Of course Aunt Frances didn’t let him off as easily as that, you may be +sure. She fluttered around him as he tried to go, and she said all sorts +of fluttery things to him, like “But, Doctor, she hasn’t gained a pound +in three months ... and her sleep ... and her appetite ... and her +nerves ...” + +[Illustration: Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.] + +The doctor said back to her, as he put on his hat, all the things +doctors always say under such conditions: “More beefsteak ... plenty of +fresh air ... more sleep ... SHE’ll be all right ...” but his voice did not +sound as though he thought what he was saying amounted to much. Nor did +Elizabeth Ann. She had hoped for some spectacular red pills to be taken +every half-hour, like those Grace’s doctor gave her whenever she felt +low in her mind. + +And just then something happened which changed Elizabeth Ann’s life +forever and ever. It was a very small thing, too. Aunt Harriet coughed. +Elizabeth Ann did not think it at all a bad-sounding cough in comparison +with Grace’s hollow whoop; Aunt Harriet had been coughing like that ever +since the cold weather set in, for three or four months now, and nobody +had thought anything of it, because they were all so much occupied in +taking care of the sensitive, nervous little girl who needed so much +care. + +And yet, at the sound of that little discreet cough behind Aunt +Harriet’s hand, the doctor whirled around and fixed his sharp eyes on +her, with all the bored, impatient look gone, the first time Elizabeth +Ann had ever seen him look interested. “What’s that? What’s that?” he +said, going over quickly to Aunt Harriet. He snatched out of his little +bag a shiny thing with two rubber tubes attached, and he put the ends of +the tubes in his ears and the shiny thing up against Aunt Harriet, who +was saying, “It’s nothing, Doctor ... a little teasing cough I’ve had this +winter. And I meant to tell you, too, but I forgot it, that that sore +spot on my lungs doesn’t go away as it ought to.” + +The doctor motioned her very impolitely to stop talking, and listened +very hard through his little tubes. Then he turned around and looked at +Aunt Frances as though he were angry at her. He said, “Take the child +away and then come back here yourself.” + +And that was almost all that Elizabeth Ann ever knew of the forces which +swept her away from the life which had always gone on, revolving about +her small person, exactly the same ever since she could remember. + +You have heard so much about tears in the account of Elizabeth Ann’s +life so far that I won’t tell you much about the few days which +followed, as the family talked over and hurriedly prepared to obey the +doctor’s verdict, which was that Aunt Harriet was very, very sick and +must go away at once to a warm climate, and Aunt Frances must go, too, +but not Elizabeth Ann, for Aunt Frances would need to give all her time +to taking care of Aunt Harriet. And anyhow the doctor didn’t think it +best, either for Aunt Harriet or for Elizabeth Ann, to have them in the +same house. + +Grace couldn’t go of course, but to everybody’s surprise she said she +didn’t mind, because she had a bachelor brother, who kept a grocery +store, who had been wanting her for years to go and keep house for him. +She said she had stayed on just out of conscientiousness because she +knew Aunt Harriet couldn’t get along without her! And if you notice, +that’s the way things often happen to very, very conscientious people. + +Elizabeth Ann, however, had no grocer brother. She had, it is true, a +great many relatives, and of course it was settled she should go to some +of them till Aunt Frances could take her back. For the time being, just +now, while everything was so distracted and confused, she was to go to +stay with the Lathrop cousins, who lived in the same city, although it +was very evident that the Lathrops were not perfectly crazy with delight +over the prospect. + +Still, something had to be done at once, and Aunt Frances was so frantic +with the packing up, and the moving men coming to take the furniture to +storage, and her anxiety over her mother—she had switched to Aunt +Harriet, you see, all the conscientiousness she had lavished on +Elizabeth Ann—nothing much could be extracted from her about Elizabeth +Ann. “Just keep her for the present, Molly!” she said to Cousin Molly +Lathrop. “I’ll do something soon. I’ll write you. I’ll make another +arrangement ... but just NOW....” + +Her voice was quavering on the edge of tears, and Cousin Molly Lathrop, +who hated scenes, said hastily, “Yes, oh, yes, of course. For the +present ...” and went away, thinking that she didn’t see why she should +have ALL the disagreeable things to do. When she had her husband’s +tyrannical old mother to take care of, wasn’t that enough, without +adding to the household such a nervous, spoiled, morbid young one as +Elizabeth Ann! + +Elizabeth Ann did not of course for a moment dream that Cousin Molly was +thinking any such things about her, but she could not help seeing that +Cousin Molly was not any too enthusiastic about taking her in; and she +was already feeling terribly forlorn about the sudden, unexpected change +in Aunt Frances, who had been SO wrapped up in her and now was just as +much wrapped up in Aunt Harriet. Do you know, I am sorry for Elizabeth +Ann, and, what’s more, I have been ever since this story began. + +Well, since I promised you that I was not going to tell about more +tears, I won’t say a single word about the day when the two aunts went +away on the train, for there is nothing much but tears to tell about, +except perhaps an absent look in Aunt Frances’s eyes which hurt the +little girl’s feelings dreadfully. + +And then Cousin Molly took the hand of the sobbing little girl and led +her back to the Lathrop house. But if you think you are now going to +hear about the Lathrops, you are quite mistaken, for just at this moment +old Mrs. Lathrop took a hand in the matter. She was Cousin Molly’s +husband’s mother, and, of course, no relation at all to Elizabeth Ann, +and so was less enthusiastic than anybody else. All that Elizabeth Ann +ever saw of this old lady, who now turned the current of her life again, +was her head, sticking out of a second-story window; and that’s all that +you need to know about her, either. It was a very much agitated old +head, and it bobbed and shook with the intensity with which the +imperative old voice called upon Cousin Molly and Elizabeth Ann to stop +right there where they were on the front walk. + +“The doctor says that what’s the matter with Bridget is scarlet fever, +and we’ve all got to be quarantined. There’s no earthly sense bringing +that child in to be sick and have it, and be nursed, and make the +quarantine twice as long!” + +“But, Mother!” called Cousin Molly, “I can’t leave the child in the +middle of the street!” + +Elizabeth Ann was actually glad to hear her say that, because she was +feeling so awfully unwanted, which is, if you think of it, not a very +cheerful feeling for a little girl who has been the hub round which a +whole household was revolving. + +“You don’t HAVE to!” shouted old Mrs. Lathrop out of her second-story +window. Although she did not add “You gump!” aloud, you could feel she +was meaning just that. “You don’t have to! You can just send her to the +Putney cousins. All nonsense about her not going there in the first +place. They invited her the minute they heard of Harriet’s being so bad. +They’re the natural ones to take her in. Abigail is her mother’s own +aunt, and Ann is her own first-cousin-once-removed ... just as close as +Harriet and Frances are, and MUCH closer than you! And on a farm and +all ... just the place for her!” + +“But how under the sun, Mother!” shouted Cousin Molly back, “can I GET +her to the Putneys’? You can’t send a child of nine a thousand miles +without ...” + +Old Mrs. Lathrop looked again as though she were saying “You gump!” and +said aloud, “Why, there’s James, going to New York on business in a few +days anyhow. He can just go now, and take her along and put her on the +right train at Albany. If he wires from here, they’ll meet her in +Hillsboro.” + +And that was just what happened. Perhaps you may have guessed by this +time that when old Mrs. Lathrop issued orders they were usually obeyed. +As to who the Bridget was who had the scarlet fever, I know no more than +you. I take it, from the name, she was the cook. Unless, indeed, old +Mrs. Lathrop made her up for the occasion, which I think she would have +been quite capable of doing, don’t you? + +At any rate, with no more ifs or ands, Elizabeth Ann’s satchel was +packed, and Cousin James Lathrop’s satchel was packed, and the two set +off together, the big, portly, middle-aged man quite as much afraid of +his mother as Elizabeth Ann was. But he was going to New York, and it is +conceivable that he thought once or twice on the trip that there were +good times in New York as well as business engagements, whereas poor +Elizabeth Ann was being sent straight to the one place in the world +where there were no good times at all. Aunt Harriet had said so, ever so +many times. Poor Elizabeth Ann! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BETSY HOLDS THE REINS + + +You can imagine, perhaps, the dreadful terror of Elizabeth Ann as the +train carried her along toward Vermont and the horrible Putney Farm! It +had happened so quickly—her satchel packed, the telegram sent, the +train caught—that she had not had time to get her wits together, assert +herself, and say that she would NOT go there! Besides, she had a sinking +notion that perhaps they wouldn’t pay any attention to her if she did. +The world had come to an end now that Aunt Frances wasn’t there to take +care of her! Even in the most familiar air she could only half breathe +without Aunt Frances! And now she was not even being taken to the Putney +Farm! She was being sent! + +She shrank together in her seat, more and more frightened as the end of +her journey came nearer, and looked out dismally at the winter +landscape, thinking it hideous with its brown bare fields, its brown +bare trees, and the quick-running little streams hurrying along, swollen +with the January thaw which had taken all the snow from the hills. She +had heard her elders say about her so many times that she could not +stand the cold, that she shivered at the very thought of cold weather, +and certainly nothing could look colder than that bleak country into +which the train was now slowly making its way. + +The engine puffed and puffed with great laboring breaths that shook +Elizabeth Ann’s diaphragm up and down, but the train moved more and more +slowly. Elizabeth Ann could feel under her feet how the floor of the car +was tipped up as it crept along the steep incline. “Pretty stiff grade +here?” said a passenger to the conductor. + +“You bet!” he assented. “But Hillsboro is the next station and that’s at +the top of the hill. We go down after that to Rutland.” He turned to +Elizabeth Ann—“Say, little girl, didn’t your uncle say you were to get +off at Hillsboro? You’d better be getting your things together.” + +Poor Elizabeth Ann’s knees knocked against each other with fear of the +strange faces she was to encounter, and when the conductor came to help +her get off, he had to carry the white, trembling child as well as her +satchel. But there was only one strange face there,—not another soul in +sight at the little wooden station. A grim-faced old man in a fur cap +and heavy coat stood by a lumber wagon. + +“This is her, Mr. Putney,” said the conductor, touching his cap, and +went back to the train, which went away shrieking for a nearby crossing +and setting the echoes ringing from one mountain to another. + +There was Elizabeth Ann alone with her much-feared Great-uncle Henry. He +nodded to her, and drew out from the bottom of the wagon a warm, large +cape, which he slipped over her shoulders. “The women folks were afraid +you’d git cold drivin’,” he explained. He then lifted her high to the +seat, tossed her satchel into the wagon, climbed up himself, and clucked +to his horses. Elizabeth Ann had always before thought it an essential +part of railway journeys to be much kissed at the end and asked a great +many times how you had “stood the trip.” + +She sat very still on the high lumber seat, feeling very forlorn and +neglected. Her feet dangled high above the floor of the wagon. She felt +herself to be in the most dangerous place she had ever dreamed of in her +worst dreams. Oh, why wasn’t Aunt Frances there to take care of her! It +was just like one of her bad dreams—yes, it was horrible! She would +fall, she would roll under the wheels and be crushed to ... She looked up +at Uncle Henry with the wild, strained eyes of nervous terror which +always brought Aunt Frances to her in a rush to “hear all about it,” to +sympathize, to reassure. + +Uncle Henry looked down at her soberly, his hard, weather-beaten old +face quite unmoved. “Here, you drive, will you, for a piece?” he said +briefly, putting the reins into her hands, hooking his spectacles over +his ears, and drawing out a stubby pencil and a bit of paper. “I’ve got +some figgering to do. You pull on the left-hand rein to make ’em go to +the left and t’other way for t’other way, though ’tain’t likely we’ll +meet any teams.” + +Elizabeth Ann had been so near one of her wild screams of terror that +now, in spite of her instant absorbed interest in the reins, she gave a +queer little yelp. She was all ready with the explanation, her +conversations with Aunt Frances having made her very fluent in +explanations of her own emotions. She would tell Uncle Henry about how +scared she had been, and how she had just been about to scream and +couldn’t keep back that one little ... But Uncle Henry seemed not to have +heard her little howl, or, if he had, didn’t think it worth +conversation, for he ... oh, the horses were CERTAINLY going to one side! +She hastily decided which was her right hand (she had never been forced +to know it so quickly before) and pulled furiously on that rein. The +horses turned their hanging heads a little, and, miraculously, there +they were in the middle of the road again. + +Elizabeth Ann drew a long breath of relief and pride, and looked to +Uncle Henry for praise. But he was busily setting down figures as though +he were getting his ’rithmetic lesson for the next day and had not +noticed ... Oh, there they were going to the left again! This time, in her +flurry, she made a mistake about which hand was which and pulled wildly +on the left line! The horses docilely walked off the road into a shallow +ditch, the wagon tilted ... help! Why didn’t Uncle Henry help! Uncle Henry +continued intently figuring on the back of his envelope. + +Elizabeth Ann, the perspiration starting out on her forehead, pulled on +the other line. The horses turned back up the little slope, the wheel +grated sickeningly against the wagonbox—she was SURE they would tip +over! But there! somehow there they were in the road, safe and sound, +with Uncle Henry adding up a column of figures. If he only knew, thought +the little girl, if he only KNEW the danger he had been in, and how he +had been saved...! But she must think of some way to remember, for sure, +which her right hand was, and avoid that hideous mistake again. + +And then suddenly something inside Elizabeth Ann’s head stirred and +moved. It came to her, like a clap, that she needn’t know which was +right or left at all. If she just pulled the way she wanted them to +go—the horses would never know whether it was the right or the left +rein! + +It is possible that what stirred inside her head at that moment was her +brain, waking up. She was nine years old, and she was in the third A +grade at school, but that was the first time she had ever had a whole +thought of her very own. At home, Aunt Frances had always known exactly +what she was doing, and had helped her over the hard places before she +even knew they were there; and at school her teachers had been carefully +trained to think faster than the scholars. Somebody had always been +explaining things to Elizabeth Ann so industriously that she had never +found out a single thing for herself before. This was a very small +discovery, but an original one. Elizabeth Ann was as excited about it as +a mother-bird over the first egg that hatches. + +She forgot how afraid she was of Uncle Henry, and poured out to him her +discovery. “It’s not right or left that matters!” she ended +triumphantly; “it’s which way you want to go!” Uncle Henry looked at her +attentively as she talked, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one +spectacle-glass. When she finished—“Well, now, that’s so,” he admitted, +and returned to his arithmetic. + +It was a short remark, shorter than any Elizabeth Ann had ever heard +before. Aunt Frances and her teachers always explained matters at +length. But it had a weighty, satisfying ring to it. The little girl +felt the importance of having her statement recognized. She turned back +to her driving. + +The slow, heavy plow horses had stopped during her talk with Uncle +Henry. They stood as still now as though their feet had grown to the +road. Elizabeth Ann looked up at the old man for instructions. But he +was deep in his figures. She had been taught never to interrupt people, +so she sat still and waited for him to tell her what to do. + +But, although they were driving in the midst of a winter thaw, it was a +pretty cold day, with an icy wind blowing down the back of her neck. The +early winter twilight was beginning to fall, and she felt rather empty. +She grew very tired of waiting, and remembered how the grocer’s boy at +home had started his horse. Then, summoning all her courage, with an +apprehensive glance at Uncle Henry’s arithmetical silence, she slapped +the reins up and down on the horses’ backs and made the best imitation +she could of the grocer’s boy’s cluck. The horses lifted their heads, +they leaned forward, they put one foot before the other ... they were off! +The color rose hot on Elizabeth Ann’s happy face. If she had started a +big red automobile she would not have been prouder. For it was the first +thing she had ever done all herself ... every bit ... every smitch! She had +thought of it and she had done it. And it had worked! + +Now for what seemed to her a long, long time she drove, drove so hard +she could think of nothing else. She guided the horses around stones, +she cheered them through freezing mud-puddles of melted snow, she kept +them in the anxiously exact middle of the road. She was quite astonished +when Uncle Henry put his pencil and paper away, took the reins from her +hands, and drove into a yard, on one side of which was a little low +white house and on the other a big red barn. He did not say a word, but +she guessed that this was Putney Farm. + +Two women in gingham dresses and white aprons came out of the house. One +was old and one might be called young, just like Aunt Harriet and Aunt +Frances. But they looked very different from those aunts. The +dark-haired one was very tall and strong-looking, and the white-haired +one was very rosy and fat. They both looked up at the little, thin, +white-faced girl on the high seat, and smiled. “Well, Father, you got +her, I see,” said the brown-haired one. She stepped up to the wagon and +held up her arms to the child. “Come on, Betsy, and get some supper,” +she said, as though Elizabeth Ann had lived there all her life and had +just driven into town and back. + +And that was the arrival of Elizabeth Ann at Putney Farm. + +The brown-haired one took a long, strong step or two and swung her up on +the porch. “You take her in, Mother,” she said. “I’ll help Father +unhitch.” + +The fat, rosy, white-haired one took Elizabeth Ann’s skinny, cold little +hand in her soft warm fat one, and led her along to the open kitchen +door. “I’m your Aunt Abigail,” she said. “Your mother’s aunt, you know. +And that’s your Cousin Ann that lifted you down, and it was your Uncle +Henry that brought you out from town.” She shut the door and went on, “I +don’t know if your Aunt Harriet ever happened to tell you about us, and +so ...” + +Elizabeth Ann interrupted her hastily, the recollection of all Aunt +Harriet’s remarks vividly before her. “Oh yes, oh yes!” she said. “She +always talked about you. She talked about you a lot, she ...” The little +girl stopped short and bit her lip. + +If Aunt Abigail guessed from the expression on Elizabeth Ann’s face what +kind of talking Aunt Harriet’s had been, she showed it only by a +deepening of the wrinkles all around her eyes. She said, gravely: “Well, +that’s a good thing. You know all about us then.” She turned to the +stove and took out of the oven a pan of hot baked beans, very brown and +crispy on top (Elizabeth Ann detested beans), and said, over her +shoulder, “Take your things off, Betsy, and hang ’em on that lowest hook +back of the door. That’s YOUR hook.” + +The little girl fumbled forlornly with the fastenings of her cape and +the buttons of her coat. At home, Aunt Frances or Grace had always taken +off her wraps and put them away for her. When, very sorry for herself, +she turned away from the hook, Aunt Abigail said: “Now you must be cold. +Pull a chair right up here by the stove.” She was stepping around +quickly as she put supper on the table. The floor shook under her. She +was one of the fattest people Elizabeth Ann had ever seen. After living +with Aunt Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace the little girl could +scarcely believe her eyes. She stared and stared. + +Aunt Abigail seemed not to notice this. Indeed, she seemed for the +moment to have forgotten all about the newcomer. Elizabeth Ann sat on +the wooden chair, her feet hanging (she had been taught that it was not +manners to put her feet on the rungs), looking about her with miserable, +homesick eyes. What an ugly, low-ceilinged room, with only a couple of +horrid kerosene lamps for light; and they didn’t keep any girl, +evidently; and they were going to eat right in the kitchen like poor +people; and nobody spoke to her or looked at her or asked her how she +had “stood the trip”; and here she was, millions of miles away from Aunt +Frances, without anybody to take care of her. She began to feel the +tight place in her throat which, by thinking about hard, she could +always turn into tears, and presently her eyes began to water. + +Aunt Abigail was not looking at her at all, but she now stopped short in +one of her rushes to the table, set down the butter-plate she was +carrying, and said “There!” as though she had forgotten something. She +stooped—it was perfectly amazing how spry she was—and pulled out from +under the stove a half-grown kitten, very sleepy, yawning and +stretching, and blinking its eyes. “There, Betsy!” said Aunt Abigail, +putting the little yellow and white ball into the child’s lap. “There is +one of old Whitey’s kittens that didn’t get given away last summer, and +she pesters the life out of me. I’ve got so much to do. When I heard you +were coming, I thought maybe you would take care of her for me. If you +want to, enough to bother to feed her and all, you can have her for your +own.” + +Elizabeth Ann bent her thin face over the warm, furry, friendly little +animal. She could not speak. She had always wanted a kitten, but Aunt +Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace had always been sure that cats +brought diphtheria and tonsilitis and all sorts of dreadful diseases to +delicate little girls. She was afraid to move for fear the little thing +would jump down and run away, but as she bent cautiously toward it the +necktie of her middy blouse fell forward and the kitten in the middle of +a yawn struck swiftly at it with a soft paw. Then, still too sleepy to +play, it turned its head and began to lick Elizabeth Ann’s hand with a +rough little tongue. Perhaps you can imagine how thrilled the little +girl was at this! + +She held her hand perfectly still until the kitten stopped and began +suddenly washing its own face, and then she put her hands under it and +very awkwardly lifted it up, burying her face in the soft fur. The +kitten yawned again, and from the pink-lined mouth came a fresh, milky +breath. “Oh!” said Elizabeth Ann under her breath. “Oh, you DARLING!” +The kitten looked at her with bored, speculative eyes. + +Elizabeth Ann looked up now at Aunt Abigail and said, “What is its name, +please?” But the old woman was busy turning over a griddle full of +pancakes and did not hear. On the train Elizabeth Ann had resolved not +to call these hateful relatives by the same name she had for dear Aunt +Frances, but she now forgot that resolution and said, again, “Oh, Aunt +Abigail, what is its name?” + +Aunt Abigail faced her blankly. “Name?” she asked. “Whose ... oh, the +kitten’s? Goodness, child, I stopped racking my brain for kitten names +sixty years ago. Name it yourself. It’s yours.” + +Elizabeth Ann had already named it in her own mind, the name she had +always thought she WOULD call a kitten by, if she ever had one. It was +Eleanor, the prettiest name she knew. + +Aunt Abigail pushed a pitcher toward her. “There’s the cat’s saucer +under the sink. Don’t you want to give it some milk?” + +Elizabeth Ann got down from her chair, poured some milk into the saucer, +and called: “Here, Eleanor! Here, Eleanor!” + +Aunt Abigail looked at her sharply out of the corner of her eye and her +lips twitched, but a moment later her face was immovably grave as she +carried the last plate of pancakes to the table. + +Elizabeth Ann sat on her heels for a long time, watching the kitten lap +the milk, and she was surprised, when she stood up, to see that Cousin +Ann and Uncle Henry had come in, very red-cheeked from the cold air. + +“Well, folks,” said Aunt Abigail, “don’t you think we’ve done some +lively stepping around, Betsy and I, to get supper all on the table for +you?” + +Elizabeth Ann stared. What did Aunt Abigail mean? She hadn’t done a +thing about getting supper! But nobody made any comment, and they all +took their seats and began to eat. Elizabeth Ann was astonishingly +hungry, and she thought she could never get enough of the creamed +potatoes, cold ham, hot cocoa, and pancakes. She was very much relieved +that her refusal of beans caused no comment. Aunt Frances had always +tried very hard to make her eat beans because they have so much protein +in them, and growing children need protein. Elizabeth Ann had heard this +said so many times she could have repeated it backward, but it had never +made her hate beans any the less. However, nobody here seemed to know +this, and Elizabeth Ann kept her knowledge to herself. They had also +evidently never heard how delicate her digestion was, for she never saw +anything like the number of pancakes they let her eat. ALL SHE WANTED! +She had never heard of such a thing! + +They still did not ask her how she had “stood the trip.” They did not +indeed ask her much of anything or pay very much attention to her beyond +filling her plate as fast as she emptied it. In the middle of the meal +Eleanor came, jumped into her lap, and curled down, purring. After this +Elizabeth Ann kept one hand on the little soft ball, handling her fork +with the other. + +After supper—well, Elizabeth Ann never knew what did happen after +supper until she felt somebody lifting her and carrying her upstairs. It +was Cousin Ann, who carried her as lightly as though she were a baby, +and who said, as she sat down on the floor in a slant-ceilinged bedroom, +“You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you’re +pretty tired.” + +Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four +posts, and a curtain around the top. She was partly undressed, and was +undoing her hair and brushing it out. It was very curly and all fluffed +out in a shining white fuzz around her fat, pink face, full of soft +wrinkles; but in a moment she was braiding it up again and putting on a +tight white nightcap, which she tied under her chin. + +“We got the word about your coming so late,” said Cousin Ann, “that we +didn’t have time to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you’re +going to sleep in here for a while. The bed’s big enough for two, I +guess, even if they are as big as you and Mother.” + +Elizabeth Ann stared again. What queer things they said here. She wasn’t +NEARLY as big as Aunt Abigail! + +“Mother, did you put Shep out?” asked Cousin Ann; and when Aunt Abigail +said, “No! There! I forgot to!” Cousin Ann went away; and that was the +last of HER. They certainly believed in being saving of their words at +Putney Farm. + +Elizabeth Ann began to undress. She was only half-awake; and that made +her feel only about half her age, which wasn’t very great, the whole of +it, and she felt like just crooking her arm over her eyes and giving up! +She was too forlorn! She had never slept with anybody before, and she +had heard ever so many times how bad it was for children to sleep with +grown-ups. An icy wind rattled the windows and puffed in around the +loose old casings. On the window-sill lay a little wreath of snow. +Elizabeth Ann shivered and shook on her thin legs, undressed in a hurry, +and slipped into her night-dress. She felt just as cold inside as out, +and never was more utterly miserable than in that strange, ugly little +room, with that strange, queer, fat old woman. She was even too +miserable to cry, and that is saying a great deal for Elizabeth Ann! + +She got into bed first, because Aunt Abigail said she was going to keep +the candle lighted for a while and read. “And anyhow,” she said, “I’d +better sleep on the outside to keep you from rolling out.” + +Elizabeth Ann and Aunt Abigail lay very still for a long time, Aunt +Abigail reading out of a small, worn old book. Elizabeth Ann could see +its title, “Essays of Emerson.” A book with that name had always laid +on the center table in Aunt Harriet’s house, but that copy was all new +and shiny, and Elizabeth Ann had never seen anybody look inside it. It +was a very dull-looking book, with no pictures and no conversation. The +little girl lay on her back, looking up at the cracks in the plaster +ceiling and watching the shadows sway and dance as the candle flickered +in the gusts of cold air. She herself began to feel a soft, pervasive +warmth. Aunt Abigail’s great body was like a stove. + +It was very, very quiet, quieter than any place Elizabeth Ann had ever +known, except church, because a trolley-line ran past Aunt Harriet’s +house and even at night there were always more or less bangings and +rattlings. Here there was not a single sound except the soft, whispery +noise when Aunt Abigail turned over a page as she read steadily and +silently forward in her book. Elizabeth Ann turned her head so that she +could see the round, rosy old face, full of soft wrinkles, and the calm, +steady old eyes which were fixed on the page. And as she lay there in +the warm bed, watching that quiet face, something very queer began to +happen to Elizabeth Ann. She felt as though a tight knot inside her were +slowly being untied. She felt—what was it she felt? There are no words +for it. From deep within her something rose up softly ... she drew one or +two long, half-sobbing breaths.... + +[Illustration: “Do you know,” said Aunt Abigail, “I think it’s going to +be real nice, having a little girl in the house again.”] + +Aunt Abigail laid down her book and looked over at the child. “Do you +know,” she said, in a conversational tone, “do you know, I think it’s +going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again.” + +Oh, then the tight knot in the little unwanted girl’s heart was loosened +indeed! It all gave way at once, and Elizabeth Ann burst suddenly into +hot tears—yes, I know I said I would not tell you any more about her +crying; but these tears were very different from any she had ever shed +before. And they were the last, too, for a long, long time. + +Aunt Abigail said, “Well, well!” and moving over in bed took the little +weeping girl into her arms. She did not say another word then, but she +put her soft, withered old cheek close against Elizabeth Ann’s, till the +sobs began to grow less, and then she said: “I hear your kitty crying +outside the door. Shall I let her in? I expect she’d like to sleep with +you. I guess there’s room for three of us.” + +She got out of bed as she spoke and walked across the room to the door. +The floor shook under her great bulk, and the peak of her nightcap made +a long, grotesque shadow. But as she came back with the kitten in her +arms Elizabeth Ann saw nothing funny in her looks. She gave Eleanor to +the little girl and got into bed again. “There, now, I guess we’re ready +for the night,” she said. “You put the kitty on the other side of you so +she won’t fall out of bed.” + +She blew the light out and moved over a little closer to Elizabeth Ann, +who immediately was enveloped in that delicious warmth. The kitten +curled up under the little girl’s chin. Between her and the terrors of +the dark room loomed the rampart of Aunt Abigail’s great body. + +Elizabeth Ann drew a long, long breath ... and when she opened her eyes +the sun was shining in at the window. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A SHORT MORNING + + +Aunt Abigail was gone, Eleanor was gone. The room was quite empty except +for the bright sunshine pouring in through the small-paned windows. +Elizabeth Ann stretched and yawned and looked about her. What funny +wall-paper it was—so old-fashioned looking! The picture was of a blue +river and a brown mill, with green willow-trees over it, and a man with +sacks on his horse’s back stood in front of the mill. This picture was +repeated a great many times, all over the paper; and in the corner, +where it hadn’t come out even, they had had to cut it right down the +middle of the horse. It was very curious-looking. She stared at it a +long time, waiting for somebody to tell her when to get up. At home Aunt +Frances always told her, and helped her get dressed. But here nobody +came. She discovered that the heat came from a hole in the floor near +the bed, which opened down into the room below. From it came a warm +breath of baking bread and a muffled thump once in a while. + +The sun rose higher and higher, and Elizabeth Ann grew hungrier and +hungrier. Finally it occurred to her that it was not absolutely +necessary to have somebody tell her to get up. She reached for her +clothes and began to dress. When she had finished she went out into the +hall, and with a return of her aggrieved, abandoned feeling (you must +remember that her stomach was very empty) she began to try to find her +way downstairs. She soon found the steps, went down them one at a time, +and pushed open the door at the foot. Cousin Ann, the brown-haired one, +was ironing near the stove. She nodded and smiled as the child came into +the room, and said, “Well, you must feel rested!” + +“Oh, I haven’t been asleep!” explained Elizabeth Ann. “I was waiting for +somebody to tell me to get up.” + +“Oh,” said Cousin Ann, opening her black eyes a little. “WERE you?” She +said no more than this, but Elizabeth Ann decided hastily that she would +not add, as she had been about to, that she was also waiting for +somebody to help her dress and do her hair. As a matter of fact, she had +greatly enjoyed doing her own hair—the first time she had ever tried +it. It had never occurred to Aunt Frances that her little baby-girl had +grown-up enough to be her own hairdresser, nor had it occurred to +Elizabeth Ann that this might be possible. But as she struggled with the +snarls she had had a sudden wild idea of doing it a different way from +the pretty fashion Aunt Frances always followed. Elizabeth Ann had +always secretly envied a girl in her class whose hair was all tied back +from her face, with one big knot in her ribbon at the back of her neck. +It looked so grown-up. And this morning she had done hers that way, +turning her neck till it ached, so that she could see the coveted tight +effect at the back. And still—aren’t little girls queer?—although she +had enjoyed doing her own hair, she was very much inclined to feel hurt +because Cousin Ann had not come to do it for her. + +[Illustration: She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.] + +Cousin Ann set her iron down with the soft thump which Elizabeth Ann had +heard upstairs. She began folding a napkin, and said: “Now reach +yourself a bowl off the shelf yonder. The oatmeal’s in that kettle on +the stove and the milk is in the blue pitcher. If you want a piece of +bread and butter, here’s a new loaf just out of the oven, and the +butter’s in that brown crock.” + +Elizabeth Ann followed these instructions and sat down before this +quickly assembled breakfast in a very much surprised silence. At home it +took the girl more than half an hour to get breakfast and set the table, +and then she had to wait on them besides. She began to pour the milk out +of the pitcher and stopped suddenly. “Oh, I’m afraid I’ve taken more +than my share!” she said apologetically. + +Cousin Ann looked up from her rapidly moving iron, and said, in an +astonished voice: “Your share? What do you mean?” + +“My share of the quart,” explained Elizabeth Ann. At home they bought a +quart of milk and a cup of cream every day, and they were all very +conscientious about not taking more than their due share. + +“Good land, child, take all the MILK you want!” said Cousin Ann, as +though she found something shocking in what the little girl had just +said. Elizabeth Ann thought to herself that she spoke as though milk ran +out of a faucet, like water. + +She was very fond of milk, and she made a very good breakfast as she sat +looking about the low-ceilinged room. It was unlike any room she had +ever seen. + +It was, of course, the kitchen, and yet it didn’t seem possible that the +same word could be applied to that room and the small, dark cubby-hole +which had been Grace’s asthmatical kingdom. This room was very long and +narrow, and all along one side were windows with white, ruffled curtains +drawn back at the sides, and with small, shining panes of glass, through +which the sun poured a golden flood of light on a long shelf of potted +plants that took the place of a window-sill. The shelf was covered with +shining white oil-cloth, the pots were of clean reddish brown, the +sturdy, stocky plants of bright green with clear red-and-white flowers. +Elizabeth Ann’s eyes wandered all over the kitchen from the low, white +ceiling to the clean, bare wooden floor, but they always came back to +those sunny windows. Once, back in the big brick school-building, as she +had sat drooping her thin shoulders over her desk, some sort of a +procession had gone by with a brass band playing a lively air. For some +queer reason, every time she now glanced at that sheet of sunlight and +the bright flowers she had a little of the same thrill which had +straightened her back and gone up and down her spine while the band was +playing. Possibly Aunt Frances was right, after all, and Elizabeth Ann +WAS a very impressionable child. I wonder, by the way, if anybody ever +saw a child who wasn’t. + +At one end, the end where Cousin Ann was ironing, stood the kitchen +stove, gleaming black, with a tea-kettle humming away on it, a big +hot-water boiler near it, and a large kitchen cabinet with lots of +drawers and shelves and hooks and things. Beyond that, in the middle of +the room, was the table where they had had supper last night, and at +which the little girl now sat eating her very late breakfast; and beyond +that, at the other end of the room, was another table with an old +dark-red cashmere shawl on it for a cover. A large lamp stood in the +middle of this, a bookcase near it, two or three rocking-chairs around +it, and back of it, against the wall, was a wide sofa covered with +bright cretonne, with three bright pillows. Something big and black and +woolly was lying on this sofa, snoring loudly. As Cousin Ann saw the +little girl’s fearful glance alight on this she explained: “That’s Shep, +our old dog. Doesn’t he make an awful noise! Mother says, when she +happens to be alone here in the evening, it’s real company to hear Shep +snore—as good as having a man in the house.” + +Although this did not seem at all a sensible remark to Elizabeth Ann, +who thought soberly to herself that she didn’t see why snoring made a +dog as good as a man, still she was acute enough (for she was really +quite an intelligent little girl) to feel that it belonged in the same +class of remarks as one or two others she had noted as “queer” in the +talk at Putney Farm last night. This variety of talk was entirely new to +her, nobody in Aunt Harriet’s conscientious household ever making +anything but plain statements of fact. It was one of the “queer Putney +ways” which Aunt Harriet had forgotten to mention. It is possible that +Aunt Harriet had never noticed it. + +When Elizabeth Ann finished her breakfast, Cousin Ann made three +suggestions, using exactly the same accent for them all. She said: +“Wouldn’t you better wash your dishes up now before they get sticky? And +don’t you want one of those red apples from the dish on the side table? +And then maybe you’d like to look around the house so’s to know where +you are.” Elizabeth Ann had never washed a dish in all her life, and she +had always thought that nobody but poor, ignorant people, who couldn’t +afford to hire girls, did such things. And yet (it was odd) she did not +feel like saying this to Cousin Ann, who stood there so straight in her +gingham dress and apron, with her clear, bright eyes and red cheeks. +Besides this feeling, Elizabeth Ann was overcome with embarrassment at +the idea of undertaking a new task in that casual way. How in the world +DID you wash dishes? She stood rooted to the spot, irresolute, horribly +shy, and looking, though she did not know it, very clouded and sullen. +Cousin Ann said briskly, holding an iron up to her cheek to see if it +was hot enough: “Just take them over to the sink there and hold them +under the hot-water faucet. They’ll be clean in no time. The dish-towels +are those hanging on the rack over the stove.” + +Elizabeth Ann moved promptly over to the sink, as though Cousin Ann’s +words had shoved her there, and before she knew it, her saucer, cup, and +spoon were clean and she was wiping them on a dry checked towel. “The +spoon goes in the side-table drawer with the other silver, and the +saucer and cup in those shelves there behind the glass doors where the +china belongs,” continued Cousin Ann, thumping hard with her iron on a +napkin and not looking up at all, “and don’t forget your apple as you go +out. Those Northern Spies are just getting to be good about now. When +they first come off the tree in October you could shoot them through an +oak plank.” + +Now Elizabeth Ann knew that this was a foolish thing to say, since of +course an apple never could go through a board; but something that had +always been sound asleep in her brain woke up a little, little bit and +opened one eye. For it occurred dimly to Elizabeth Ann that this was a +rather funny way of saying that Northern Spies were very hard when you +first pick them in the autumn. She had to figure it out for herself very +slowly, because it was a new idea to her, and she was half-way through +her tour of inspection of the house before there glimmered on her lips, +in a faint smile, the first recognition of humor in all her life. She +felt a momentary impulse to call down to Cousin Ann that she saw the +point, but before she had taken a single step toward the head of the +stairs she had decided not to do this. Cousin Ann, with her bright, dark +eyes, and her straight back, and her long arms, and her way of speaking +as though it never occurred to her that you wouldn’t do just as she +said—Elizabeth Ann was not very sure that she liked Cousin Ann, and she +was very sure that she was afraid of her. + +So she went on, walking from one room to another, industriously eating +the red apple, the biggest she had ever seen. It was the best, too, with +its crisp, white flesh and the delicious, sour-sweet juice which made +Elizabeth Ann feel with each mouthful like hurrying to take another. She +did not think much more of the other rooms in the house than she had of +the kitchen. There were no draped “throws” over anything; there were no +lace curtains at the windows, just dotted Swiss like the kitchen; all +the ceilings were very low; the furniture was all of dark wood and very +old-looking; what few rugs there were were of bright-colored rags; the +mirrors were queer and old, with funny old pictures at the top; there +wasn’t a brass bed in any of the bedrooms, just old wooden ones with +posts, and curtains round the tops; and there was not a single plush +portiere in the parlor, whereas at Aunt Harriet’s there had been two +sets for that one room. + +She was relieved at the absence of a piano and secretly rejoiced that +she would not need to practice. In her heart she had not liked her music +lessons at all, but she had never dreamed of not accepting them from +Aunt Frances as she accepted everything else. Also she had liked to hear +Aunt Frances boast about how much better she could play than other +children of her age. + +She was downstairs by this time, and, opening a door out of the parlor, +found herself back in the kitchen, the long line of sunny windows and +the bright flowers giving her that quick little thrill again. Cousin Ann +looked up from her ironing, nodded, and said: “All through? You’d better +come in and get warmed up. Those rooms get awfully cold these January +days. Winters we mostly use this room so’s to get the good of the +kitchen stove.” She added after a moment, during which Elizabeth Ann +stood by the stove, warming her hands: “There’s one place you haven’t +seen yet—the milk-room. Mother’s down there now, churning. That’s the +door—the middle one.” + +Elizabeth Ann had been wondering and wondering where in the world Aunt +Abigail was. So she stepped quickly to the door, and went dawn the cold +dark stairs she found there. At the bottom was a door, locked +apparently, for she could find no fastening. She heard steps inside, the +door was briskly cast open, and she almost fell into the arms of Aunt +Abigail, who caught her as she stumbled forward, saying: “Well, I’ve +been expectin’ you down here for a long time. I never saw a little girl +yet who didn’t like to watch butter-making. Don’t you love to run the +butter-worker over it? I do, myself, for all I’m seventy-two!” + +“I don’t know anything about it,” said Elizabeth Ann. “I don’t know what +you make butter out of. We always bought ours.” + +“Well, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKES!” said Aunt Abigail. She turned and called +across the room, “Henry, did you ever! Here’s Betsy saying she don’t +know what we make butter out of! She actually never saw anybody making +butter!” + +Uncle Henry was sitting down, near the window, turning the handle to a +small barrel swung between two uprights. He stopped for a moment and +considered Aunt Abigail’s remark with the same serious attention he had +given to Elizabeth Ann’s discovery about left and right. Then he began +to turn the churn over and over again and said, peaceably: “Well, +Mother, you never saw anybody laying asphalt pavement, I’ll warrant you! +And I suppose Betsy knows all about that.” + +Elizabeth Ann’s spirits rose. She felt very superior indeed. “Oh, yes,” +she assured them, “I know ALL about that! Didn’t you ever see anybody +doing that? Why, I’ve seen them HUNDREDS of times! Every day as we went +to school they were doing over the whole pavement for blocks along +there.” + +Aunt Abigail and Uncle Henry looked at her with interest, and Aunt +Abigail said: “Well, now, think of that! Tell us all about it!” + +“Why, there’s a big black sort of wagon,” began Elizabeth Ann, “and they +run it up and down and pour out the black stuff on the road. And that’s +all there is to it.” She stopped, rather abruptly, looking uneasy. Uncle +Henry inquired: “Now there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to know. How +do they keep that stuff from hardening on them? How do they keep it +hot?” + +The little girl looked blank. “Why, a fire, I suppose,” she faltered, +searching her memory desperately and finding there only a dim +recollection of a red glow somewhere connected with the familiar scene +at which she had so often looked with unseeing eyes. + +“Of course a fire,” agreed Uncle Henry. “But what do they burn in it, +coke or coal or wood or charcoal? And how do they get any draft to keep +it going?” + +Elizabeth Ann shook her head. “I never noticed,” she said. + +Aunt Abigail asked her now, “What do they do to the road before they +pour it on?” + +“Do?” said Elizabeth Ann. “I didn’t know they did anything.” + +“Well, they can’t pour it right on a dirt road, can they?” asked Aunt +Abigail. “Don’t they put down cracked stone or something?” + +Elizabeth Ann looked down at her toes. “I never noticed,” she said. + +“I wonder how long it takes for it to harden?” said Uncle Henry. + +“I never noticed,” said Elizabeth Ann, in a small voice. + +Uncle Henry said, “Oh!” and stopped asking questions. Aunt Abigail +turned away and put a stick of wood in the stove. Elizabeth Ann did not +feel very superior now, and when Aunt Abigail said, “Now the butter’s +beginning to come. Don’t you want to watch and see everything I do, so’s +you can answer if anybody asks you how butter is made?” Elizabeth Ann +understood perfectly what was in Aunt’s Abigail’s mind, and gave to the +process of butter-making a more alert and aroused attention than she had +ever before given to anything. It was so interesting, too, that in no +time she forgot why she was watching, and was absorbed in the +fascinations of the dairy for their own sake. + +She looked in the churn as Aunt Abigail unscrewed the top, and saw the +thick, sour cream separating into buttermilk and tiny golden particles. +“It’s gathering,” said Aunt Abigail, screwing the lid back on. +“Father’ll churn it a little more till it really comes. And you and I +will scald the wooden butter things and get everything ready. You’d +better take that apron there to keep your dress clean.” + +Wouldn’t Aunt Frances have been astonished if she could have looked in +on Elizabeth Ann that very first morning of her stay at the hateful +Putney Farm and have seen her wrapped in a gingham apron, her face +bright with interest, trotting here and there in the stone-floored +milk-room! She was allowed the excitement of pulling out the plug from +the bottom of the churn, and dodged back hastily to escape the gush of +buttermilk spouting into the pail held by Aunt Abigail. And she poured +the water in to wash the butter, and screwed on the top herself, and, +again all herself (for Uncle Henry had gone off as soon as the butter +had “come”), swung the barrel back and forth six or seven times to swish +the water all through the particles of butter. She even helped Aunt +Abigail scoop out the great yellow lumps—her imagination had never +conceived of so much butter in all the world! Then Aunt Abigail let her +run the curiously shaped wooden butter-worker back and forth over the +butter, squeezing out the water, and then pile it up again with her +wooden paddle into a mound of gold. She weighed out the salt needed on +the scales, and was very much surprised to find that there really is +such a thing as an ounce. She had never met it before outside the pages +of her arithmetic book and she didn’t know it lived anywhere else. + +After the salt was worked in she watched Aunt Abigail’s deft, wrinkled +old hands make pats and rolls. It looked like the greatest fun, and too +easy for anything; and when Aunt Abigail asked her if she wouldn’t like +to make up the last half-pound into a pat for dinner, she took up the +wooden paddle confidently. And then she got one of the surprises that +Putney Farm seemed to have for her. She discovered that her hands didn’t +seem to belong to her at all, that her fingers were all thumbs, that she +didn’t seem to know in the least beforehand how hard a stroke she was +going to give nor which way her fingers were going to go. It was, as a +matter of fact, the first time Elizabeth Ann had tried to do anything +with her hands except to write and figure and play on the piano, and +naturally she wasn’t very well acquainted with them. She stopped in +dismay, looking at the shapeless, battered heap of butter before her and +holding out her hands as though they were not part of her. + +Aunt Abigail laughed, took up the paddle, and after three or four passes +the butter was a smooth, yellow ball. “Well, that brings it all back to +me!” she said “when _I_ was a little girl, when my grandmother first +let me try to make a pat. I was about five years old—my! what a mess I +made of it! And I remember? doesn’t it seem funny—that SHE laughed and +said her Great-aunt Elmira had taught her how to handle butter right +here in this very milk-room. Let’s see, Grandmother was born the year +the Declaration of Independence was signed. That’s quite a while ago, +isn’t it? But butter hasn’t changed much, I guess, nor little girls +either.” + +Elizabeth Ann listened to this statement with a very queer, startled +expression on her face, as though she hadn’t understood the words. Now +for a moment she stood staring up in Aunt Abigail’s face, and yet not +seeing her at all, because she was thinking so hard. She was thinking! +“Why! There were real people living when the Declaration of Independence +was signed—real people, not just history people—old women teaching +little girls how to do things—right in this very room, on this very +floor—and the Declaration of Independence just signed!” + +To tell the honest truth, although she had passed a very good +examination in the little book on American history they had studied in +school, Elizabeth Ann had never to that moment had any notion that there +ever had been really and truly any Declaration of Independence at all. +It had been like the ounce, living exclusively inside her schoolbooks +for little girls to be examined about. And now here Aunt Abigail, +talking about a butter-pat, had brought it to life! + +Of course all this only lasted a moment, because it was such a new idea! +She soon lost track of what she was thinking of; she rubbed her eyes as +though she were coming out of a dream, she thought, confusedly: “What +did butter have to do with the Declaration of Independence? Nothing, of +course! It couldn’t!” and the whole impression seemed to pass out of her +mind. But it was an impression which was to come again and again during +the next few months. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BETSY GOES TO SCHOOL + + +Elizabeth Ann was very much surprised to hear Cousin Ann’s voice +calling, “Dinner!” down the stairs. It did not seem possible that the +whole morning had gone by. “Here,” said Aunt Abigail, “just put that pat +on a plate, will you, and take it upstairs as you go. I’ve got all I can +do to haul my own two hundred pounds up, without any half-pound of +butter into the bargain.” The little girl smiled at this, though she did +not exactly know why, and skipped up the stairs proudly with her butter. + +Dinner was smoking on the table, which was set in the midst of the great +pool of sunlight. A very large black-and-white dog, with a great bushy +tail, was walking around and around the table, sniffing the air. He +looked as big as a bear to Elizabeth Ann; and as he walked his great red +tongue hung out of his mouth and his white teeth gleamed horribly. +Elizabeth Ann shrank back in terror, clutching her plate of butter to +her breast with tense fingers. Cousin. Ann said, over her shoulder: “Oh, +bother! There’s old Shep, got up to pester us begging for scraps! Shep! +You go and lie down this minute!” To Elizabeth Ann’s astonishment and +immense relief, the great animal turned, drooping his head sadly, walked +back across the floor, got upon the couch again, and laid his head down +on one paw very forlornly, turning up the whites of his eyes meekly at +Cousin Ann. + +Aunt Abigail, who had just pulled herself up the stairs, panting, said, +between laughing and puffing: “I’m glad I’m not an animal on this farm. +Ann does boss them around so.” “Well, SOMEbody has to!” said Cousin Ann, +advancing on the table with a platter. This proved to have chicken +fricassee on it, and Elizabeth Ann’s heart melted in her at the smell. +She loved chicken gravy on hot biscuits beyond anything in the world, +but chickens are so expensive when you buy them in the market that Aunt +Harriet hadn’t had them very often for dinner. And there was a plate of +biscuits, golden brown, just coming out of the oven! She sat down very +quickly, her mouth watering, and attacked with extreme haste the big +plateful of food which Cousin Ann passed her. + +At Aunt Harriet’s she had always been aware that everybody watched her +anxiously as she ate, and she had heard so much about her light appetite +that she felt she must live up to her reputation, and had a very natural +and human hesitation about eating all she wanted when there happened to +be something she liked very much. But nobody here knew that she “only +ate enough to keep a bird alive,” and that her “appetite was SO +capricious!” Nor did anybody notice her while she stowed away the +chicken and gravy and hot biscuits and currant jelly and baked potatoes +and apple pie—when did Elizabeth Ann ever eat such a meal before! She +actually felt her belt grow tight. + +In the middle of the meal Cousin Ann got up to answer the telephone, +which was in the next room. The instant the door had closed behind her +Uncle Henry leaned forward, tapped Elizabeth Ann on the shoulder, and +nodded toward the sofa. His eyes were twinkling, and as for Aunt Abigail +she began to laugh silently, shaking all over, her napkin at her mouth +to stifle the sound. Elizabeth Ann turned wonderingly and saw the old +dog cautiously and noiselessly letting himself down from the sofa, one +ear cocked rigidly in the direction of Cousin Ann’s voice in the next +room. “The old tyke!” said Uncle Henry. “He always sneaks up to the +table to be fed if Ann goes out for a minute. Here, Betsy, you’re +nearest, give him this piece of skin from the chicken neck.” The big dog +padded forward across the room, evidently in such a state of terror +about Cousin Ann that Elizabeth Ann felt for him. She had a +fellow-feeling about that relative of hers. Also it was impossible to be +afraid of so abjectly meek and guilty an animal. As old Shep came up to +her, poking his nose inquiringly on her lap, she shrinkingly held out +the big piece of skin, and though she jumped back at the sudden snap and +gobbling gulp with which the old dog greeted the tidbit, she could not +but sympathize with his evident enjoyment of it. He waved his bushy tail +gratefully, cocked his head on one side, and, his ears standing up at +attention, his eyes glistening greedily, he gave a little, begging +whine. “Oh, he’s asking for more!” cried Elizabeth Ann, surprised to see +how plainly she could understand dog-talk. “Quick, Uncle Henry, give me +another piece!” + +Uncle Henry rapidly transferred to her plate a wing-bone from his own, +and Aunt Abigail, with one deft swoop, contributed the neck from the +platter. As fast as she could, Elizabeth Ann fed these to Shep, who +woofed them down at top speed, the bones crunching loudly under his +strong, white teeth. How he did enjoy it! It did your heart good to see +his gusto! + +[Illustration: “Oh, he’s asking for more’” cried Elizabeth Ann] + +There was the sound of the telephone receiver being hung up in the next +room—and everybody acted at once. Aunt Abigail began drinking +innocently out of her coffee-cup, only her laughing old eyes showing +over the rim; Uncle Henry buttered a slice of bread with a grave face, +as though he were deep in conjectures about who would be the next +President; and as for old Shep, he made one plunge across the room, his +toe-nails clicking rapidly on the bare floor, sprang up on the couch, +and when Cousin Ann opened the door and came in he was lying in exactly +the position in which she had left him, his paw stretched out, his head +laid on it, his brown eyes turned up meekly so that the whites showed. + +I’ve told you what these three did, but I haven’t told you yet what +Elizabeth Ann did. And it is worth telling. As Cousin Ann stepped in, +glancing suspiciously from her sober-faced and abstracted parents to the +lamb-like innocence of old Shep, little Elizabeth Ann burst into a shout +of laughter. It’s worth telling about, because, so far as I know, that +was the first time she had ever laughed out heartily in all her life. +For my part, I’m half surprised to know that she knew how. + +Of course, when she laughed, Aunt Abigail had to laugh too, setting down +her coffee-cup and showing all the funny wrinkles in her face screwed up +hard with fun; and that made Uncle Henry laugh, and then Cousin Ann +laughed and said, as she sat down, “You are bad children, the whole four +of you!” And old Shep, seeing the state of things, stopped pretending to +be meek, jumped down, and came lumbering over to the table, wagging his +tail and laughing too; you know that good, wide dog-smile! He put his +head on Elizabeth Ann’s lap again and she patted it and lifted up one of +his big black ears. She had quite forgotten that she was terribly afraid +of big dogs. + +After dinner Cousin Ann looked up at the clock and said: “My goodness! +Betsy’ll be late for school if she doesn’t start right off.” She +explained to the child, aghast at this sudden thunderclap, “I let you +sleep this morning as long as you wanted to, because you were so tired +from your journey. But of course there’s no reason for missing the +afternoon session.” + +As Elizabeth Ann continued sitting perfectly still, frozen with alarm, +Cousin Ann jumped up briskly, got the little coat and cap, helped her +up, and began inserting the child’s arms into the sleeves. She pulled +the cap well down over Elizabeth Ann’s ears, felt in the pocket and +pulled out the mittens. “There,” she said, holding them out, “you’d +better put them on before you go out, for it’s a real cold day.” As she +led the stupefied little girl along toward the door Aunt Abigail came +after them and put a big sugar-cookie into the child’s hand. “Maybe +you’ll like to eat that for your recess time,” she said. “I always did +when I went to school.” + +Elizabeth Ann’s hand closed automatically about the cookie, but she +scarcely heard what was said. She felt herself to be in a bad dream. +Aunt Frances had never, no NEVER, let her go to school alone, and on the +first day of the year always took her to the new teacher and introduced +her and told the teacher how sensitive she was and how hard to +understand; and then she stayed there for an hour or two till Elizabeth +Ann got used to things! She could not face a whole new school all +alone—oh, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t! She couldn’t! Horrors! Here she +was in the front hall—she was on the porch! Cousin Ann was saying: “Now +run along, child. Straight down the road till the first turn to the +left, and there in the cross-roads, there you are.” And now the front +door closed behind her, the path stretched before her to the road, and +the road led down the hill the way Cousin Ann had pointed. Elizabeth +Ann’s feet began to move forward and carried her down the path, although +she was still crying out to herself, “I can’t! I won’t! I can’t!” + +Are you wondering why Elizabeth Ann didn’t turn right around, open the +front door, walk in, and say, “I can’t! I won’t! I can’t!” to Cousin +Ann? + +The answer to that question is that she didn’t do it because Cousin Ann +was Cousin Ann. And there’s more in that than you think! In fact, there +is a mystery in it that nobody has ever solved, not even the greatest +scientists and philosophers, although, like all scientists and +philosophers, they think they have gone a long way toward explaining +something they don’t understand by calling it a long name. The long name +is “personality,” and what it means nobody knows, but it is perhaps the +very most important thing in the world for all that. And yet we know +only one or two things about it. We know that anybody’s personality is +made up of the sum total of all the actions and thoughts and desires of +his life. And we know that though there aren’t any words or any figures +in any language to set down that sum total accurately, still it is one +of the first things that everybody knows about anybody else. And that is +really all we know! + +So I can’t tell you why Elizabeth Ann did not go back and cry and sob +and say she couldn’t and she wouldn’t and she couldn’t, as she would +certainly have done at Aunt Harriet’s. You remember that I could not +even tell you why it was that, as the little fatherless and motherless +girl lay in bed looking at Aunt Abigail’s old face, she should feel so +comforted and protected that she must needs break out crying. No, all I +can say is that it was because Aunt Abigail was Aunt Abigail. But +perhaps it may occur to you that it’s rather a good idea to keep a sharp +eye on your “personality,” whatever that is! It might be very handy, you +know, to have a personality like Cousin Ann’s which sent Elizabeth Ann’s +feet down the path; or perhaps you would prefer one like Aunt Abigail’s. +Well, take your choice. + +You must not, of course, think for a moment that Elizabeth Ann had the +slightest INTENTION of obeying Cousin Ann. No indeed! Nothing was +farther from her mind as her feet carried her along the path and into +the road. In her mind was nothing but rebellion and fear and anger and +oh, such hurt feelings! She turned sick at the very thought of facing +all the staring, curious faces in the playground turned on the new +scholar as she had seen them at home! She would never, never do it! She +would walk around all the afternoon, and then go back and tell Cousin +Ann that she couldn’t! She would EXPLAIN to her how Aunt Frances never +let her go out of doors without a loving hand to cling to. She would +EXPLAIN to her how Aunt Frances always took care of her! ... it was easier +to think about what she would say and do and explain, away from Cousin +Ann, than it was to say and do it before those black eyes. Aunt +Frances’s eyes were soft, light blue. + +Oh, how she wanted Aunt Frances to take care of her! Nobody cared a +thing about her! Nobody UNDERSTOOD her but Aunt Frances! She wouldn’t go +back at all to Putney Farm. She would just walk on and on till she was +lost, and the night would come and she would lie down and freeze to +death, and then wouldn’t Cousin Ann feel ... Someone called to her, +“Isn’t this Betsy?” + +She looked up astonished. A young girl in a gingham dress and a white +apron like those at Putney Farm stood in front of a tiny, square +building, like a toy house. “Isn’t this Betsy?” asked the young girl +again. “Your Cousin Ann said you were coming to school today and I’ve +been looking out for you. But I saw you going right by, and I ran out to +stop you.” + +“Why, where IS the school?” asked Betsy, staring around for a big brick, +four-story building. + +The young girl laughed and held out her hand. “This is the school,” she +said, “and I am the teacher, and you’d better come right in, for it’s +time to begin.” + +She led Betsy into a low-ceilinged room with geraniums at the windows, +where about a dozen children of different ages sat behind their desks. +At the first sight of them Betsy blushed crimson with fright and +shyness, and hung down her head; but, looking out the corners of her +eyes, she saw that they, too, were all very red-faced and scared-looking +and hung down their heads, looking at her shyly out of the corners of +their eyes. She was so surprised by this that she forgot all about +herself and looked inquiringly at the teacher. + +“They don’t see many strangers,” the teacher explained, “and they feel +very shy and scared when a new scholar comes, especially one from the +city.” + +“Is this my grade?” asked Elizabeth, thinking it the very smallest grade +she had ever seen. + +“This is the whole school,” said the teacher. “There are only two or +three in each class. You’ll probably have three in yours. Miss Ann said +you were in the third grade. There, that’s your seat.” + +Elizabeth sat down before a very old desk, much battered and hacked up +with knife marks. There was a big H. P. carved just over the inkwell, +and many other initials scattered all over the top. + +The teacher stepped back to her desk and took up a violin that lay +there. “Now, children, we’ll begin the afternoon session by singing +‘America,’” she said. She played the air over a little very sweetly and +stirringly, and then as the children stood up she came down close to +them, standing just in front of Betsy. She drew the bow across the +strings in a big chord, and said, “NOW,” and Betsy burst into song with +the others. The sun came in the windows brightly, the teacher, too, sang +as she played, and all the children, even the littlest ones, opened +their mouths wide and sang lustily. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WHAT GRADE IS BETSY? + + +After the singing the teacher gave Elizabeth Ann a pile of schoolbooks, +some paper, some pencils, and a pen, and told her to set her desk in +order. There were more initials carved inside, another big H. P. with a +little A. P. under it. What a lot of children must have sat there, +thought the little girl as she arranged her books and papers. As she +shut down the lid the teacher finished giving some instructions to three +or four little ones and said, “Betsy and Ralph and Ellen, bring your +reading books up here.” + +Betsy sighed, took out her third-grade reader, and went with the other +two up to the battered old bench near the teacher’s desk. She knew all +about reading lessons and she hated them, although she loved to read. +But reading lessons...! You sat with your book open at some reading that +you could do with your eyes shut, it was so easy, and you waited and +waited and waited while your classmates slowly stumbled along, reading +aloud a sentence or two apiece, until your turn came to stand up and +read your sentence or two, which by that time sounded just like nonsense +because you’d read it over and over so many times to yourself before +your chance came. And often you didn’t even have a chance to do that, +because the teacher didn’t have time to get around to you at all, and +you closed your book and put it back in your desk without having opened +your mouth. Reading was one thing Elizabeth Ann had learned to do very +well indeed, but she had learned it all by herself at home from much +reading to herself. Aunt Frances had kept her well supplied with +children’s books from the nearest public library. She often read three a +week—very different, that, from a sentence or two once or twice a week. + +When she sat down on the battered old bench she almost laughed aloud, it +seemed so funny to be in a class of only three. There had been forty in +her grade in the big brick building. She sat in the middle, the little +girl whom the teacher had called Ellen on one side, and Ralph on the +other. Ellen was very pretty, with fair hair smoothly braided in two +little pig-tails, sweet, blue eyes, and a clean blue-and-white gingham +dress. Ralph had very black eyes, dark hair, a big bruise on his +forehead, a cut on his chin, and a tear in the knee of his short +trousers. He was much bigger than Ellen, and Elizabeth Ann thought he +looked rather fierce. She decided that she would be afraid of him, and +would not like him at all. + +“Page thirty-two,” said the teacher. “Ralph first.” + +Ralph stood up and began to read. It sounded very familiar to Elizabeth +Ann, for he did not read at all well. What was not familiar was that the +teacher did not stop him after the first sentence. He read on and on +till he had read a page, the teacher only helping him with the hardest +words. + +“Now Betsy,” said the teacher. + +Elizabeth Ann stood up, read the first sentence, and paused, like a +caged lion pausing when he comes to the end of his cage. + +“Go on,” said the teacher. + +Elizabeth Ann read the next sentence and stopped again, automatically. + +“Go ON,” said the teacher, looking at her sharply. + +The next time the little girl paused the teacher laughed out +good-naturedly. “What is the matter with you, Betsy?” she said. “Go on +till I tell you to stop.” + +So Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised but very much interested, read on, +sentence after sentence, till she forgot they were sentences and just +thought of what they meant. She read a whole page and then another page, +and that was the end of the selection. She had never read aloud so much +in her life. She was aware that everybody in the room had stopped +working to listen to her. She felt very proud and less afraid than she +had ever thought she could be in a schoolroom. When she finished, +“You read very well!” said the teacher. “Is this very easy for you?” + +“Oh, YES!” said Elizabeth Ann. + +“I guess, then, that you’d better not stay in this class,” said the +teacher. She took a book out of her desk. “See if you can read that.” + +Elizabeth Ann began in her usual school-reading style, very slow and +monotonous, but this didn’t seem like a “reader” at all. It was poetry, +full of hard words that were fun to try to pronounce, and it was all +about an old woman who would hang out an American flag, even though the +town was full of rebel soldiers. She read faster and faster, getting +more and more excited, till she broke out with “Halt!” in such a loud, +spirited voice that the sound of it startled her and made her stop, +fearing that she would be laughed at. But nobody laughed. They were all +listening, very eagerly, even the little ones, with their eyes turned +toward her. + +“You might as well go on and let us see how it came out,” said the +teacher, and Betsy finished triumphantly. + +“WELL,” said the teacher, “there’s no sense in your reading along in the +third reader. After this you’ll recite out of the seventh reader with +Frank and Harry and Stashie.” + +Elizabeth Ann could not believe her ears. To be “jumped” four grades in +that casual way! It wasn’t possible! She at once thought, however, of +something that would prevent it entirely, and while Ellen was reading +her page in a slow, careful little voice, Elizabeth Ann was feeling +miserably that she must explain to the teacher why she couldn’t read +with the seventh-grade children. Oh, how she wished she could! When they +stood up to go back to their seats she hesitated, hung her head, and +looked very unhappy. “Did you want to say something to me?” asked the +teacher, pausing with a bit of chalk in her hand. + +The little girl went up to her desk and said, what she knew it was her +duty to confess: “I can’t be allowed to read in the seventh reader. I +don’t write a bit well, and I never get the mental number-work right. I +couldn’t do ANYthing with seventh-grade arithmetic!” + +The teacher looked a little blank and said: “_I_ didn’t say anything +about your number-work! I don’t KNOW anything about it! You haven’t +recited yet.” She turned away and began to write a list of words on the +board. “Betsy, Ralph, and Ellen study their spelling,” she said. “You +little ones come up for your reading.” + +Two little boys and two little girls came forward as Elizabeth Ann began +to con over the words on the board. At first she found she was listening +to the little, chirping voices, as the children straggled with their +reading, instead of studying “doubt, travel, cheese,” and the other +words in her lesson. But she put her hands over her ears, and her mind +on her spelling. She wanted to make a good impression with that lesson. +After a while, when she was sure she could spell them all correctly, she +began to listen and look around her. She always “got” her spelling in +less time than was allowed the class, and usually sat idle, looking out +of the window until that study period was over. But now the moment she +stopped staring at the board and moving her lips as she spelled to +herself the teacher said, just as though she had been watching her every +minute instead of conducting a class, “Betsy, have you learned your +spelling?” + +“Yes, ma’am, I think so,” said Elizabeth Ann, wondering very much why +she was asked. + +“That’s fine,” said the teacher. “I wish you’d take little Molly over in +that corner and help her with her reading. She’s getting on so much +better than the rest of the class that I hate to have her lose her time. +Just hear her read the rest of her little story, will you, and don’t +help her unless she’s really stuck.” + +Elizabeth Ann was startled by this request, which was unheard of in her +experience. She was very uncertain of herself as she sat down on a low +chair in the corner of the schoolroom away from the desks, with the +little child leaning on her knee. And yet she was not exactly afraid, +either, because Molly was such a shy little roly-poly thing, with her +crop of yellow curls, and her bright blue eyes very serious as she +looked hard at the book and began: “Once there was a rat. It was a fat +rat.” No, it was impossible to be frightened of such a funny little +girl, who peered so earnestly into the older child’s face to make sure +she was doing her lesson right. + +Elizabeth Ann had never had anything to do with children younger than +herself, and she felt very pleased and important to have anybody look up +to HER! She put her arm around Molly’s square, warm, fat little body and +gave her a squeeze. Molly snuggled up closer; and the two children put +their heads together over the printed page, Elizabeth Ann correcting +Molly very gently indeed when she made a mistake, and waiting patiently +when she hesitated. She had so fresh in her mind her own suffering from +quick, nervous corrections that she took the greatest pleasure in +speaking quietly and not interrupting the little girl more than was +necessary. It was fun to teach, LOTS of fun! She was surprised when the +teacher said, “Well, Betsy, how did Molly do?” + +“Oh, is the time up?” said Elizabeth Ann. “Why, she does beautifully, I +think, for such a little thing.” + +“Do you suppose,” said the teacher thoughtfully, just as though Betsy +were a grown-up person, “do you suppose she could go into the second +reader, with Eliza? There’s no use keeping her in the first if she’s +ready to go on.” + +Elizabeth Ann’s head whirled with this second light-handed juggling with +the sacred distinction between the grades. In the big brick schoolhouse +nobody EVER went into another grade except at the beginning of a new +year, after you’d passed a lot of examinations. She had not known that +anybody could do anything else. The idea that everybody took a year to a +grade, no MATTER what! was so fixed in her mind that she felt as though +the teacher had said: “How would you like to stop being nine years old +and be twelve instead! And don’t you think Molly would better be eight +instead of six?” + +However, just then her class in arithmetic was called, so that she had +no more time to be puzzled. She came forward with Ralph and Ellen again, +very low in her mind. She hated arithmetic with all her might, and she +really didn’t understand a thing about it! By long experience she had +learned to read her teachers’ faces very accurately, and she guessed by +their expression whether the answer she gave was the right one. And that +was the only way she could tell. You never heard of any other child who +did that, did you? + +They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just her +luck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and of +course right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8. She never +knew that one! She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguely +that it was somewhere in the fifties. Ralph burst out scornfully, “56!” +and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off, +pounced on him with 9 x 8. He answered, without drawing breath, 72. +Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy. Ellen, too, rose to the +occasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimes +remember and sometimes not. And then, oh horrors! It was her turn again! +Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mental +arithmetic lesson. She was so startled by the swiftness with which the +question went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly. +And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a +108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x +12. Good gracious! Who could have guessed, from the way they read, they +could do their tables like this! She herself missed on 7 x 7 and was +ready to cry. After this the teacher didn’t call on her at all, but +showered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back with +sickening speed. + +After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, “Well, Betsy, you were right +about your arithmetic. I guess you’d better recite with Eliza for a +while. She’s doing second-grade work. I shouldn’t be surprised if, after +a good review with her, you’d be able to go on with the third-grade +work.” + +Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open. She felt +really dizzy. What crazy things the teacher said! She felt as though she +was being pulled limb from limb. + +“What’s the matter?” asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered face. + +“Why—why,” said Elizabeth Ann, “I don’t know what I am at all. If I’m +second-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-grade +spelling, what grade AM I?” + +The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase. “YOU aren’t any grade at +all, no matter where you are in school. You’re just yourself, aren’t +you? What difference does it make what grade you’re in! And what’s the +use of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because you +don’t know your multiplication table?” + +“Well, for goodness’ SAKES!” ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very much +as though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head. + +“Why, what’s the matter?” asked the teacher again. + +This time Elizabeth Ann didn’t answer, because she herself didn’t know +what the matter was. But I do, and I’ll tell you. The matter was that +never before had she known what she was doing in school. She had always +thought she was there to pass from one grade to another, and she was +ever so startled to get a little glimpse of the fact that she was there +to learn how to read and write and cipher and generally use her mind, so +she could take care of herself when she came to be grown-up. Of course, +she didn’t really know that till she did come to be grown-up, but she +had her first dim notion of it in that moment, and it made her feel the +way you do when you’re learning to skate and somebody pulls away the +chair you’ve been leaning on and says, “Now, go it alone!” + +The teacher waited a minute, and then, when Elizabeth Ann didn’t say +anything more, she rang a little bell. “Recess time,” she said, and as +the children marched out and began putting on their wraps she followed +them into the cloak-room, pulled on a warm, red cap and a red sweater, +and ran outdoors herself. “Who’s on my side!” she called, and the +children came darting out after her. Elizabeth Ann had dreaded the first +recess time with the strange children, but she had no time to feel shy, +for in a twinkling she was on one end of a long rope with a lot of her +schoolmates, pulling with all her might against the teacher and two of +the big boys. Nobody had looked at her curiously, nobody had said +anything to her beyond a loud, “Come on, Betsy!” from Ralph, who was at +the head on their side. + +They pulled and they pulled, digging their feet into the ground and +bracing themselves against the rocks which stuck up out of the +playground. Sometimes the teacher’s side yanked them along by quick +jerks, and then they’d all set their feet hard when Ralph shouted out, +“Now, ALL TOGETHER!” and they’d slowly drag the other side back. And all +the time everybody was shouting and yelling together with the +excitement. Betsy was screaming too, and when a wagon passing by stopped +and a big, broad-shouldered farmer jumped down laughing, put the end of +the rope over his shoulder, and just walked off with the whole lot of +them till he had pulled them clear off their feet, Elizabeth Ann found +herself rolling over and over with a breathless, squirming mass of +children, her shrill laughter rising even above the shouts of merriment +of the others. She laughed so she could hardly get up on her feet again, +it was such an unexpected ending to the contest. + +The big farmer was laughing too. “You ain’t so smart as you THINK you +are, are you!” he jeered at them good-naturedly. Then he started, +yelling “WHOA there!” to his horses, which had begun to walk on. He had +to run after them with all his might, and just climbed into the back of +the wagon and grabbed the reins the very moment they broke into a trot. +The children laughed, and Ralph shouted after him, “Hi, there, Uncle +Nate! Who’s not so smart as he thinks he is, NOW!” He turned to the +little girls near him. “They ’most got away from him THAT time!” he +said. “He’s awful foolish about leaving them standing while he’s funning +or something. He thinks he’s awful funny, anyhow. Some day they’ll run +away on him and THEN where’ll he be?” + +Elizabeth Ann was thinking to herself that this was one of the queerest +things that had happened to her even in this queer place. Never, why +never once, had any grown-up, passing the playground of the big brick +building, DREAMED of such a thing as stopping for a minute to play. They +never even looked at the children, any more than if they were in another +world. In fact she had felt the school was in another world. + +“Ralph, it’s your turn to get the water,” said the teacher, handing him +a pail. “Want to go along?” said Ralph gruffly to Ellen and Betsy. He +led the way and the little girls walked after him. Now that she was out +of a crowd Elizabeth Ann felt all her shyness come down on her like a +black cloud, drying up her mouth and turning her hands and feet cold as +ice. Into one of these cold hands she felt small, warm fingers slide. +She looked down and there was little Molly trotting by her side, turning +her blue eyes up trustfully. “Teacher says I can go with you if you’ll +take care of me,” she said. “She never lets us first-graders go without +somebody bigger to help us over the log.” + +As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a big +white-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set foot on it, +but with little Molly’s hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed to +say she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show how +easy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and then—oh, don’t you +wish Aunt Frances could have been there!—Betsy shut her teeth together +hard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As a +matter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, having +done it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. But +nobody knew this, Molly least of all. + +Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dipped +the pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellen +took a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without looking +up. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment, +much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, “Do you like +dolls with yellow hair the best?” + +Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on this +point which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didn’t REALLY +care about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her little +niece. + +“No, I DON’T!” answered the little girl emphatically. “I get just sick +and tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! I +like them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!” + +Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. “Oh, so do I!” she said. +“And that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will you +let me play with her some time?” + +“My folks?” said Elizabeth Ann blankly. + +“Why yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry.” + +“Have they got a DOLL?” said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax of +Putney queerness. + +“Oh my, yes!” said Molly, eagerly. “She’s the one Mrs. Putney had when +she was a little girl. And she’s got the loveliest clothes! She’s in the +hair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down once +when I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a little +girl had come there to live, they’d let her have her down all the time. +I’ll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mine’s got yellow +hair, but she’s real pretty anyhow. If Father’s going to mill that day, +he can leave me there for the morning.” + +[Illustration with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and +started across.] + +Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, but +just then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helping +Elizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before. + +They ran along to the little building, and there I’m going to leave +them, because I think I’ve told enough about their school for ONE while. +It was only a poor, rough, little district school anyway, that no +Superintendent of Schools would have looked at for a minute, except to +sniff. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IF YOU DON’T LIKE CONVERSATION IN A BOOK SKIP THIS CHAPTER! + + +Betsy opened the door and was greeted by her kitten, who ran to her, +purring and arching her back to be stroked. + +“Well,” said Aunt Abigail, looking up from the pan of apples in her lap, +“I suppose you’re starved, aren’t you? Get yourself a piece of bread and +butter, why don’t you? and have one of these apples.” + +As the little girl sat down by her, munching fast on this provender, she +asked: “What desk did you get?” + +Elizabeth Ann thought for a moment, cuddling Eleanor up to her face. “I +think it is the third from the front in the second row.” She wondered +why Aunt Abigail cared. “Oh, I guess that’s your Uncle Henry’s desk. +It’s the one his father had, too. Are there a couple of H. P.’s carved +on it?” + +Betsy nodded. + +“His father carved the H. P. on the lid, so Henry had to put his inside. +I remember the winter he put it there. It was the first season Mother +let me wear real hoop skirts. I sat in the first seat on the third row.” + +Betsy ate her apple more and more slowly, trying to take in what Aunt +Abigail had said. Uncle Henry and HIS FATHER—why Moses or Alexander the +Great didn’t seem any further back in the mists of time to Elizabeth Ann +than did Uncle Henry’s FATHER! And to think he had been a little boy, +right there at that desk! She stopped chewing altogether for a moment +and stared into space. Although she was only nine years old, she was +feeling a little of the same rapt wonder, the same astonished sense of +the reality of the people who have gone before, which make a first visit +to the Roman Forum such a thrilling event for grown-ups. That very desk! + +After a moment she came to herself, and finding some apple still in her +mouth, went on chewing meditatively. “Aunt Abigail,” she said, “how long +ago was that?” + +“Let’s see,” said the old woman, peeling apples with wonderful rapidity. +“I was born in 1844. And I was six when I first went to school. That’s +sixty-six years ago.” + +Elizabeth Ann, like all little girls of nine, had very little notion how +long sixty-six years might be. “Was George Washington alive then?” she +asked. + +The wrinkles around Aunt Abigail’s eyes deepened mirthfully, but she did +not laugh as she answered, “No, that was long after he died, but the +schoolhouse was there when he was alive.” + +“It WAS!” said Betsy, staring, with her teeth set deep in an apple. + +“Yes, indeed. It was the first house in the valley built of sawed +lumber. You know, when our folks came up here, they had to build all +their houses of logs to begin with.” + +“They DID!” cried Betsy, with her mouth full of apple. + +“Why yes, child, what else did you suppose they had to make houses out +of? They had to have something to live in, right off. The sawmills came +later.” + +“I didn’t know anything about it,” said Betsy. “Tell me about it.” + +“Why you knew, didn’t you—your Aunt Harriet must have told you—about +how our folks came up here from Connecticut in 1763, on horseback! +Connecticut was an old settled place then, compared to Vermont. There +wasn’t anything here but trees and bears and wood-pigeons. I’ve heard +’em say that the wood-pigeons were so thick you could go out after dark +and club ’em out of the trees, just like hens roosting in a hen-house. +There always was cold pigeon-pie in the pantry, just the way we have +doughnuts. And they used bear-grease to grease their boots and their +hair, bears were so plenty. It sounds like good eating, don’t it! But of +course that was just at first. It got quite settled up before long, and +by the time of the Revolution, bears were getting pretty scarce, and +soon the wood-pigeons were all gone.” + +“And the schoolhouse—that schoolhouse where I went today—was that +built THEN?” Elizabeth Ann found it hard to believe. + +“Yes, it used to have a great big chimney and fireplace in it. It was +built long before stoves were invented, you know.” + +“Why, I thought stoves were ALWAYS invented!” cried Elizabeth Ann. This +was the most startling and interesting conversation she had ever taken +part in. + +Aunt Abigail laughed. “Mercy, no, child! Why, _I_ can remember when only +folks that were pretty well off had stoves and real poor people still +cooked over a hearth fire. I always thought it a pity they tore down the +big chimney and fireplace out of the schoolhouse and put in that big, +ugly stove. But folks are so daft over new-fangled things. Well, anyhow, +they couldn’t take away the sun-dial on the window-sill. You want to be +sure to look at that. It’s on the sill of the middle window on the right +hand as you face the teacher’s desk.” + +“Sun-dial,” repeated Betsy. “What’s that?” + +“Why to tell the time by, when—” + +“Why didn’t they have a clock?” asked the child. + +Aunt Abigail laughed. “Good gracious, there was only one clock in the +valley for years and years, and that belonged to the Wardons, the rich +people in the village. Everybody had sun-dials cut in their +window-sills. There’s one on the window-sill of our pantry this minute. +Come on, I’ll show it to you.” She got up heavily with her pan of +apples, and trotted briskly, shaking the floor as she went, over to the +stove. “But first just watch me put these on to cook so you’ll know +how.” She set the pan on the stove, poured some water from the +tea-kettle over the apples, and put on a cover. “Now come on into the +pantry.” + +They entered a sweet-smelling, spicy little room, all white paint, and +shelves which were loaded with dishes and boxes and bags and pans of +milk and jars of preserves. + +“There!” said Aunt Abigail, opening the window. “That’s not so good as +the one at school. This only tells when noon is.” + +Elizabeth Ann stared stupidly at the deep scratch on the window-sill. + +“Don’t you see?” said Aunt Abigail. “When the shadow got to that mark it +was noon. And the rest of the time you guessed by how far it was from +the mark. Let’s see if I can come anywhere near it now.” She looked at it +hard and said: “I guess it’s half-past four.” She glanced back into the +kitchen at the clock and said: “Oh pshaw! It’s ten minutes past five! +Now my grandmother could have told that within five minutes, just by the +place of the shadow. I declare! Sometimes it seems to me that every time +a new piece of machinery comes into the door some of our wits fly out at +the window! Now I couldn’t any more live without matches than I could +fly! And yet they all used to get along all right before they had +matches. Makes me feel foolish to think I’m not smart enough to get +along, if I WANTED to, without those little snips of pine and brimstone. +Here, Betsy, take a cooky. It’s against my principles to let a child +leave the pantry without having a cooky. My! it does seem like living +again to have a young one around to stuff!” + +Betsy took the cooky, but went on with the conversation by exclaiming, +“HOW could ANY-body get along without matches? You HAVE to have +matches.” + +Aunt Abigail didn’t answer at first. They were back in the kitchen now. +She was looking at the clock again. “See here,” she said; “it’s time I +began getting supper ready. We divide up on the work. Ann gets the +dinner and I get the supper. And everybody gets his own breakfast. Which +would you rather do, help Ann with the dinner, or me with the supper?” + +Elizabeth Ann had not had the slightest idea of helping anybody with any +meal, but, confronted unexpectedly with the alternative offered, she +made up her mind so quickly that she didn’t want to help Cousin Ann, and +declared so loudly, “Oh, help YOU with the supper!” that her promptness +made her sound quite hearty and willing. “Well, that’s fine,” said Aunt +Abigail. “We’ll set the table now. But first you would better look at +that apple sauce. I hear it walloping away as though it was boiling too +fast. Maybe you’d better push it back where it won’t cook so fast. There +are the holders, on that hook.” + +Elizabeth Ann approached the stove with the holder in her hand and +horror in her heart. Nobody had ever dreamed of asking her to handle hot +things. She looked around dismally at Aunt Abigail, but the old woman +was standing with her back turned, doing something at the kitchen table. +Very gingerly the little girl took hold of the handle of the saucepan, +and very gingerly she shoved it to the back of the stove. And then she +stood still a moment to admire herself. She could do that as well as +anybody! + +“Why,” said Aunt Abigail, as if remembering that Betsy had asked her a +question. “Any man could strike a spark from his flint and steel that he +had for his gun. And he’d keep striking it till it happened to fly out +in the right direction, and you’d catch it in some fluff where it would +start a smoulder, and you’d blow on it till you got a little flame, and +drop tiny bits of shaved-up dry pine in it, and so, little by little, +you’d build your fire up.” + +“But it must have taken forEVER to do that!” + +“Oh, you didn’t have to do that more than once in ever so long,” said +Aunt Abigail, briskly. She interrupted her story to say: “Now you put +the silver around, while I cream the potatoes. It’s in that drawer—a +knife, a fork, and two spoons for each place—and the plates and cups +are up there behind the glass doors. We’re going to have hot cocoa again +tonight.” And as the little girl, hypnotized by the other’s casual, +offhand way of issuing instructions, began to fumble with the knives and +forks she went on: “Why, you’d start your fire that way, and then you’d +never let it go out. Everybody that amounted to anything knew how to +bank the hearth fire with ashes at night so it would be sure to last. +And the first thing in the morning, you got down on your knees and poked +the ashes away very carefully till you got to the hot coals. Then you’d +blow with the bellows and drop in pieces of dry pine—don’t forget the +water-glasses—and you’d blow gently till they flared up and the +shavings caught, and there your fire would be kindled again. The napkins +are in the second drawer.” + +Betsy went on setting the table, deep in thought, reconstructing the old +life. As she put the napkins around she said, “But SOMETIMES it must +have gone out ...” + +“Yes,” said Aunt Abigail, “sometimes it went out, and then one of the +children was sent over to the nearest neighbor to borrow some fire. He’d +take a covered iron pan fastened on to a long hickory stick, and go +through the woods—everything was woods then—to the next house and wait +till they had their fire going and could spare him a pan full of coals; +and then—don’t forget the salt and pepper—he would leg it home as fast +as he could streak it, to get there before the coals went out. Say, +Betsy, I think that apple sauce is ready to be sweetened. You do it, +will you? I’ve got my hands in the biscuit dough. The sugar’s in the +left-hand drawer in the kitchen cabinet.” + +“Oh, MY!” cried Betsy, dismayed. “_I_ don’t know how to cook!” + +Aunt Abigail laughed and put back a strand of curly white hair with the +back of her floury hand. “You know how to stir sugar into your cup of +cocoa, don’t you?” + +“But how MUCH shall I put in?” asked Elizabeth Ann, clamoring for exact +instruction so she wouldn’t need to do any thinking for herself. + +“Oh, till it tastes right,” said Aunt Abigail, carelessly. “Fix it to +suit yourself, and I guess the rest of us will like it. Take that big +spoon to stir it with.” + +Elizabeth Ann took off the lid and began stirring in sugar, a +teaspoonful at a time, but she soon saw that that made no impression. +She poured in a cupful, stirred it vigorously, and tasted it. Better, +but not quite enough. She put in a tablespoonful more and tasted it, +staring off into space under bended brows as she concentrated her +attention on the taste. It was quite a responsibility to prepare the +apple sauce for a family. It was ever so good, too. But maybe a LITTLE +more sugar. She put in a teaspoonful and decided it was just exactly +right! + +“Done?” asked Aunt Abigail. “Take it off, then, and pour it out in that +big yellow bowl, and put it on the table in front of your place. You’ve +made it; you ought to serve it.” + +“It isn’t done, is it?” asked Betsy. “That isn’t all you do to make +apple sauce!” + +“What else could you do?” asked Aunt Abigail. + +“Well...!” said Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised. “I didn’t know it +was so easy to cook!” + +“Easiest thing in the world,” said Aunt Abigail gravely, with the merry +wrinkles around her merry old eyes all creased up with silent fun. + +When Uncle Henry came in from the barn, with old Shep at his heels, and +Cousin Ann came down from upstairs, where her sewing-machine had been +humming like a big bee, they were both duly impressed when told that +Betsy had set the table and made the apple sauce. They pronounced it +very good apple sauce indeed, and each sent his saucer back to the +little girl for a second helping. She herself ate three saucerfuls. Her +own private opinion was that it was the very best apple sauce ever made. + +After supper was over and the dishes washed and wiped, Betsy helping +with the putting-away, the four gathered around the big lamp on the +table with the red cover. Cousin Ann was making some buttonholes in the +shirt-waist she had constructed that afternoon, Aunt Abigail was darning +socks, and Uncle Henry was mending a piece of harness. Shep lay on the +couch and snored until he got so noisy they couldn’t stand it, and +Cousin Ann poked him in the ribs and he woke up snorting and gurgling +and looking around very sheepishly. Every time this happened it made +Betsy laugh. She held Eleanor, who didn’t snore at all, but made the +prettiest little tea-kettle-singing purr deep in her throat, and opened +and sheathed her needle-like claws in Betsy’s dress. + +“Well, how’d you get on at school?” asked Uncle Henry. + +“I’ve got your desk,” said Elizabeth Ann, looking at him curiously, at +his gray hair and wrinkled, weather-beaten face, and trying to think +what he must have looked like when he was a little boy like Ralph. + +“So?” said Uncle Henry. “Well, let me tell you that’s a mighty good +desk! Did you notice the deep groove in the top of it?” + +Betsy nodded. She had wondered what that was used for. + +“Well, that was the lead-pencil desk in the old days. When they couldn’t +run down to the store to buy things, because there wasn’t any store to +run to, how do you suppose they got their lead-pencils!” Elizabeth Ann +shook her head, incapable even of a guess. She had never thought before +but that lead-pencils grew in glass show-cases in stores. + +“Well, sir,” said Uncle Henry, “I’ll tell you. They took a piece off the +lump of lead they made their bullets of, melted it over the fire in the +hearth down at the schoolhouse till it would run like water, and poured +it in that groove. When it cooled off, there was a long streak of solid +lead, about as big as one of our lead-pencils nowadays. They’d break +that up in shorter lengths, and there you’d have your lead-pencils, made +while you wait. Oh, I tell you in the old days folks knew how to take +care of themselves more than now.” + +“Why, weren’t there any stores?” asked Elizabeth Ann. She could not +imagine living without buying things at stores. + +“Where’d they get the things to put in a store in those days?” asked +Uncle Henry, argumentatively. “Every single thing had to be lugged clear +from Albany or from Connecticut on horseback.” + +“Why didn’t they use wagons?” asked Elizabeth Ann. + +“You can’t run a wagon unless you’ve got a road to run it on, can you?” +asked Uncle Henry. “It was a long, long time before they had any roads. +It’s an awful chore to make roads in a new country all woods and hills +and swamps and rocks. You were lucky if there was a good path from your +house to the next settlement.” + +“Now, Henry,” said Aunt Abigail, “do stop going on about old times long +enough to let Betsy answer the question you asked her. You haven’t given +her a chance to say how she got on at school.” + +“Well, I’m AWFULLY mixed up!” said Betsy, complainingly. “I don’t know +what I am! I’m second-grade arithmetic and third-grade spelling and +seventh-grade reading and I don’t know what in writing or composition. +We didn’t have those.” + +Nobody seemed to think this very remarkable, or even very interesting. +Uncle Henry, indeed, noted it only to say, “Seventh-grade reading!” He +turned to Aunt Abigail. “Oh, Mother, don’t you suppose she could read +aloud to us evenings?” + +Aunt Abigail and Cousin Ann both laid down their sewing to laugh! “Yes, +yes, Father, and play checkers with you too, like as not!” They +explained to Betsy: “Your Uncle Henry is just daft on being read aloud +to when he’s got something to do in the evening, and when he hasn’t he’s +as fidgety as a broody hen if he can’t play checkers. Ann hates checkers +and I haven’t got the time, often.” + +“Oh, I LOVE to play checkers!” said Betsy. + +“Well, NOW ...” said Uncle Henry, rising instantly and dropping his +half-mended harness on the table. “Let’s have a game.” + +“Oh, Father!” said Cousin Ann, in the tone she used for Shep. “How about +that piece of breeching! You know that’s not safe. Why don’t you finish +that up first?” + +Uncle Henry sat down again, looking as Shep did when Cousin Ann told him +to get up on the couch, and took up his needle and awl. + +“But I could read something aloud,” said Betsy, feeling very sorry for +him. “At least I think I could. I never did, except at school.” + +“What shall we have, Mother?” asked Uncle Henry eagerly. + +“Oh, I don’t know. What have we got in this bookcase?” said Aunt +Abigail. “It’s pretty cold to go into the parlor to the other one.” She +leaned forward, ran her fat fore-finger over the worn old volumes, and +took out a battered, blue-covered book. “Scott?” + +“Gosh, yes!” said Uncle Henry, his eyes shining. “The staggit eve!” + +At least that was the way it sounded to Betsy, but when she took the +book and looked where Aunt Abigail pointed she read it correctly, though +in a timid, uncertain voice. She was very proud to think she could +please a grown-up so much as she was evidently pleasing Uncle Henry, but +the idea of reading aloud for people to hear, not for a teacher to +correct, was unheard of. + + The Stag at eve had drunk his fill + Where danced the moon on Monan’s rill, + +she began, and it was as though she had stepped into a boat and was +swept off by a strong current. She did not know what all the words +meant, and she could not pronounce a good many of the names, but nobody +interrupted to correct her, and she read on and on, steadied by the +strongly-marked rhythm, drawn forward swiftly from one clanging, +sonorous rhyme to another. Uncle Henry nodded his head in time to the +rise and fall of her voice and now and then stopped his work to look at +her with bright, eager, old eyes. He knew some of the places by heart +evidently, for once in a while his voice would join the little girl’s +for a couplet or two. They chanted together thus: + + A moment listened to the cry + That thickened as the chase drew nigh, + Then, as the headmost foes appeared, + With one brave bound, the copse he cleared. + +At the last line Uncle Henry flung his arm out wide, and the child felt +as though the deer had made his great leap there, before her eyes. + +“I’ve seen ’em jump just like that,” broke in Uncle Henry. “A +two-three-hundred-pound stag go up over a four-foot fence just like a +piece of thistledown in the wind.” + +“Uncle Henry,” asked Elizabeth Ann, “what is a copse?” + +“I don’t know,” said Uncle Henry indifferently. “Something in the woods, +must be. Underbrush most likely. You can always tell words you don’t +know by the sense of the whole thing. Go on.” + + And stretching forward, free and far, + +The child’s voice took up the chant again. She read faster and faster as +it got more exciting. Uncle Henry joined in on + + For, jaded now and spent with toil, + Embossed with foam and dark with soil, + While every gasp with sobs he drew, + The laboring stag strained full in view. + +The little girl’s heart beat fast. She fled along through the next +lines, stumbling desperately over the hard words but seeing the headlong +chase through them clearly as through tree-trunks in a forest. Uncle +Henry broke in in a triumphant shout: + + The wily quarry shunned the shock + And TURNED him from the opposing rock; + Then dashing down a darksome glen, + Soon lost to hound and hunter’s ken, + In the deep Trossach’s wildest nook + His solitary refuge took. + +“Oh MY!” cried Elizabeth Ann, laying down the book. “He got away, didn’t +he? I was so afraid he wouldn’t!” + +“I can just hear those dogs yelping, can’t you?” said Uncle Henry. + + Yelled on the view the opening pack. + +“Sometimes you hear ’em that way up on the slope of Hemlock Mountain +back of us, when they get to running a deer.” + +“What say we have some pop-corn!” suggested Aunt Abigail. “Betsy, don’t +you want to pop us some?” + +“I never DID,” said the little girl, but in a less doubtful tone than +she had ever used with that phrase so familiar to her. A dim notion was +growing up in her mind that the fact that she had never done a thing was +no proof that she couldn’t. + +“I’ll show you,” said Uncle Henry. He reached down a couple of ears from +a big yellow cluster hanging on the wall, and he and Betsy shelled them +into the popper, popped it full of snowy kernels, buttered it, salted +it, and took it back to the table. + +It was just as she was eating her first ambrosial mouthful that the door +opened and a fur-capped head was thrust in. A man’s voice said: +“Evenin’, folks. No, I can’t stay. I was down at the village just now, +and thought I’d ask for any mail down our way.” He tossed a newspaper +and a letter on the table and was gone. + +The letter was addressed to Elizabeth Ann and it was from Aunt Frances. +She read it to herself while Uncle Henry read the newspaper. Aunt +Frances wrote that she had been perfectly horrified to learn that Cousin +Molly had not kept Elizabeth Ann with her, and that she would never +forgive her for that cruelty. And when she thought that her darling was +at Putney Farm...! Her blood ran cold. It positively did! It was too +dreadful. But it couldn’t be helped, for a time anyhow, because Aunt +Harriet was really VERY sick. Elizabeth Ann would have to be a dear, +brave child and endure it as best she could. And as soon ... oh, as soon +as ever she COULD, Aunt Frances would come and take her away from them. +“Don’t cry TOO much, darling ... it breaks my heart to think of you there! +TRY to be cheerful, dearest! TRY to bear it for the sake of your +distracted, loving Aunt Frances.” + +Elizabeth Ann looked up from this letter and across the table at Aunt +Abigail’s rosy, wrinkled old face, bent over her darning. Uncle Henry +laid the paper down, took a big mouthful of pop-corn, and beat time +silently with his hand. When he could speak he murmured: An hundred dogs +bayed deep and strong, Clattered an hundred steeds along. + +Old Shep woke up with a snort and Aunt Abigail fed him a handful of +pop-corn. Little Eleanor stirred in her sleep, stretched, yawned, and +nestled down into a ball again on the little girl’s lap. Betsy could +feel in her own body the rhythmic vibration of the kitten’s contented +purr. + +Aunt Abigail looked up: “Finished your letter? I hope Harriet is no +worse. What does Frances say?” + +Elizabeth Ann blushed a deep red and crushed the letter together in her +hand. She felt ashamed and she did not know why. “Aunt Frances +says, ... Aunt Frances says, ...” she began, hesitating. “She says Aunt +Harriet is still pretty sick.” She stopped, drew a long breath, and went +on, “And she sends her love to you.” + +Now Aunt Frances hadn’t done anything of the kind, so this was a really +whopping fib. But Elizabeth Ann didn’t care if it was. It made her feel +less ashamed, though she did not know why. She took another mouthful of +pop-corn and stroked Eleanor’s back. Uncle Henry got up and stretched. +“It’s time to go to bed, folks,” he said. As he wound the clock Betsy +heard him murmuring: + + But when the sun his beacon red.... + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ELIZABETH ANN FAILS IN AN EXAMINATION + + +I wonder if you can guess the name of a little girl who, about a month +after this, was walking along through the melting snow in the woods with +a big black dog running circles around her. Yes, all alone in the woods +with a terrible great dog beside her, and yet not a bit afraid. You +don’t suppose it could be Elizabeth Ann? Well, whoever she was, she had +something on her mind, for she walked more and more slowly and had only +a very absent-minded pat for the dog’s head when he thrust it up for a +caress. When the wood road led into a clearing in which there was a +rough little house of slabs, the child stopped altogether, and, looking +down, began nervously to draw lines in the snow with her overshoe. + +You see, something perfectly dreadful had happened in school that day. +The Superintendent, the all-important, seldom-seen Superintendent, came +to visit the school and the children were given some examinations so he +could see how they were getting on. + +Now, you know what an examination did to Elizabeth Ann. Or haven’t I +told you yet? + +Well, if I haven’t, it’s because words fail me. If there is anything +horrid that an examination DIDn’t do to Elizabeth Ann, I have yet to +hear of it. It began years ago, before ever she went to school, when she +heard Aunt Frances talking about how SHE had dreaded examinations when +she was a child, and how they dried up her mouth and made her ears ring +and her head ache and her knees get all weak and her mind a perfect +blank, so that she didn’t know what two and two made. Of course +Elizabeth Ann didn’t feel ALL those things right off at her first +examination, but by the time she had had several and had rushed to tell +Aunt Frances about how awful they were and the two of them had +sympathized with one another and compared symptoms and then wept about +her resulting low marks, why, she not only had all the symptoms Aunt +Frances had ever had, but a good many more of her own invention. + +Well, she had had them all and had them hard this afternoon, when the +Superintendent was there. Her mouth had gone dry and her knees had +shaken and her elbows had felt as though they had no more bones in them +than so much jelly, and her eyes had smarted, and oh, what answers she +had made! That dreadful tight panic had clutched at her throat whenever +the Superintendent had looked at her, and she had disgraced herself ten +times over. She went hot and cold to think of it, and felt quite sick +with hurt vanity. She who did so well every day and was so much looked +up to by her classmates, what MUST they be thinking of her! To tell the +truth, she had been crying as she walked along through the woods, +because she was so sorry for herself. Her eyes were all red still, and +her throat sore from the big lump in it. + +And now she would live it all over again as she told the Putney cousins. +For of course they must be told. She had always told Aunt Frances +everything that happened in school. It happened that Aunt Abigail had +been taking a nap when she got home from school, and so she had come out +to the sap-house, where Cousin Ann and Uncle Henry were making syrup, to +have it over with as soon as possible. She went up to the little slab +house now, dragging her feet and hanging her head, and opened the door. + +Cousin Ann, in a very short old skirt and a man’s coat and high rubber +boots, was just poking some more wood into the big fire which blazed +furiously under the broad, flat pan where the sap was boiling. The +rough, brown hut was filled with white steam and that sweetest of all +odors, hot maple syrup. Cousin Ann turned her head, her face very red +with the heat of the fire, and nodded at the child. + +“Hello, Betsy, you’re just in time. I’ve saved out a cupful of hot syrup +for you, all ready to wax.” + +Betsy hardly heard this, although she had been wild about waxed sugar on +snow ever since her very first taste of it. “Cousin Ann,” she said +unhappily, “the Superintendent visited our school this afternoon.” + +“Did he!” said Cousin Ann, dipping a thermometer into the boiling syrup. + +“Yes, and we had EXAMINATIONS!” said Betsy. + +“Did you?” said Cousin Ann, holding the thermometer up to the light and +looking at it. + +“And you know how perfectly awful examinations make you feel,” said +Betsy, very near to tears again. + +“Why, no,” said Cousin Ann, sorting over syrup tins. “They never made me +feel awful. I thought they were sort of fun.” + +“FUN!” cried Betsy, indignantly, staring through the beginnings of her +tears. + +“Why, yes. Like taking a dare, don’t you know. Somebody stumps you to +jump off the hitching-post, and you do it to show ’em. I always used to +think examinations were like that. Somebody stumps you to spell +‘pneumonia,’ and you do it to show ’em. Here’s your cup of syrup. You’d +better go right out and wax it while it’s hot.” + +Elizabeth Ann automatically took the cup in her hand, but she did not +look at it. “But supposing you get so scared you can’t spell ‘pneumonia’ +or anything else!” she said feelingly. “That’s what happened to me. You +know how your mouth gets all dry and your knees ...” She stopped. Cousin +Ann had said she did NOT know all about those things. “Well, anyhow, I +got so scared I could hardly STAND up! And I made the most awful +mistakes—things I know just as WELL! I spelled ‘doubt’ without any b +and ‘separate’ with an e, and I said Iowa was bounded on the north by +Wisconsin, and I ...” + +“Oh, well,” said Cousin Ann, “it doesn’t matter if you really know the +right answers, does it? That’s the important thing.” + +This was an idea which had never in all her life entered Betsy’s brain +and she did not take it in at all now. She only shook her head miserably +and went on in a doleful tone. “And I said 13 and 8 are 22! and I wrote +March without any capital M, and I ...” + +“Look here, Betsy, do you WANT to tell me all this?” Cousin Ann spoke in +the quick, ringing voice she had once in a while which made everybody, +from old Shep up, open his eyes and get his wits about him. Betsy +gathered hers and thought hard; and she came to an unexpected +conclusion. No, she didn’t really want to tell Cousin Ann all about it. +Why was she doing it? Because she thought that was the thing to do. +“Because if you don’t really want to,” went on Cousin Ann, “I don’t see +that it’s doing anybody any good. I guess Hemlock Mountain will stand +right there just the same even if you did forget to put a b in ‘doubt.’ +And your syrup will be too cool to wax right if you don’t take it out +pretty soon.” + +She turned back to stoke the fire, and Elizabeth Ann, in a daze, found +herself walking out of the door. It fell shut after her, and there she +was under the clear, pale-blue sky, with the sun just hovering over the +rim of Hemlock Mountain. She looked up at the big mountains, all blue +and silver with shadows and snow, and wondered what in the world Cousin +Ann had meant. Of course Hemlock Mountain would stand there just the +same. But what of it? What did that have to do with her arithmetic, with +anything? She had failed in her examination, hadn’t she? + +She found a clean white snow-bank under a pine-tree, and, setting her +cup of syrup down in a safe place, began to pat the snow down hard to +make the right bed for the waxing of the syrup. The sun, very hot for +that late March day, brought out strongly the tarry perfume of the big +pine-tree. Near her the sap dripped musically into a bucket, already +half full, hung on a maple-tree. A blue-jay rushed suddenly through the +upper branches of the wood, his screaming and chattering voice sounding +like noisy children at play. + +Elizabeth Ann took up her cup and poured some of the thick, hot syrup +out on the hard snow, making loops and curves as she poured. It +stiffened and hardened at once, and she lifted up a great coil of it, +threw her head back, and let it drop into her mouth. Concentrated +sweetness of summer days was in that mouthful, part of it still hot and +aromatic, part of it icy and wet with melting snow. She crunched it all +together with her strong, child’s teeth into a delicious, big lump and +sucked on it dreamily, her eyes on the rim of Hemlock Mountain, high +above her there, the snow on it bright golden in the sunlight. Uncle +Henry had promised to take her up to the top as soon as the snow went +off. She wondered what the top of a mountain would be like. Uncle Henry +had said the main thing was that you could see so much of the world at +once. He said it was too queer the way your own house and big barn and +great fields looked like little toy things that weren’t of any account. +It was because you could see so much more than just the.... + +She heard an imploring whine, and a cold nose was thrust into her hand! +Why, there was old Shep begging for his share of waxed sugar. He loved +it, though it did stick to his teeth so! She poured out another lot and +gave half of it to Shep. It immediately stuck his jaws together tight, +and he began pawing at his mouth and shaking his head till Betsy had to +laugh. Then he managed to pull his jaws apart and chewed loudly and +visibly, tossing his head, opening his mouth wide till Betsy could see +the sticky, brown candy draped in melting festoons all over his big +white teeth and red gullet. Then with a gulp he had swallowed it all +down and was whining for more, striking softly at the little girl’s +skirt with his forepaw. “Oh, you eat it too fast!” cried Betsy, but she +shared her next lot with him too. The sun had gone down over Hemlock +Mountain by this time, and the big slope above her was all deep blue +shadow. The mountain looked much higher now as the dusk began to fall, +and loomed up bigger and bigger as though it reached to the sky. It was +no wonder houses looked small from its top. Betsy ate the last of her +sugar, looking up at the quiet giant there, towering grandly above her. +There was no lump in her throat now. And, although she still thought she +did not know what in the world Cousin Ann meant by saying that about +Hemlock Mountain and her examination, it’s my opinion that she had made +a very good beginning of an understanding. + +She was just picking up her cup to take it back to the sap-house when +Shep growled a little and stood with his ears and tail up, looking down +the road. Something was coming down that road in the blue, clear +twilight, something that was making a very queer noise. It sounded +almost like somebody crying. It WAS somebody crying! It was a child +crying. It was a little, little girl.... Betsy could see her +now ... stumbling along and crying as though her heart would break. Why, +it was little Molly, her own particular charge at school, whose reading +lesson she heard every day. Betsy and Shep ran to meet her. “What’s the +matter, Molly? What’s the matter?” Betsy knelt down and put her arms +around the weeping child. “Did you fall down? Did you hurt you? What are +you doing ’way off here? Did you lose your way?” + +“I don’t want to go away! I don’t want to go away!” said Molly over and +over, clinging tightly to Betsy. It was a long time before Betsy could +quiet her enough to find out what had happened. Then she made out +between Molly’s sobs that her mother had been taken suddenly sick and +had to go away to a hospital, and that left nobody at home to take care +of Molly, and she was to be sent away to some strange relatives in the +city who didn’t want her at all and who said so right out.... + +Oh, Elizabeth Ann knew all about that! and her heart swelled big with +sympathy. For a moment she stood again out on the sidewalk in front of +the Lathrop house with old Mrs. Lathrop’s ungracious white head bobbing +from a window, and knew again that ghastly feeling of being unwanted. +Oh, she knew why little Molly was crying! And she shut her hands +together hard and made up her mind that she WOULD help her out! + +[Illustration: “What’s the matter, Molly? What’s the matter?”] + +Do you know what she did, right off, without thinking about it? She +didn’t go and look up Aunt Abigail. She didn’t wait till Uncle Henry +came back from his round of emptying sap buckets into the big tub on his +sled. As fast as her feet could carry her she flew back to Cousin Ann in +the sap-house. I can’t tell you (except again that Cousin Ann was Cousin +Ann) why it was that Betsy ran so fast to her and was so sure that +everything would be all right as soon as Cousin Ann knew about it; but +whatever the reason was it was a good one, for, though Cousin Ann did +not stop to kiss Molly or even to look at her more than one sharp first +glance, she said after a moment’s pause, during which she filled a syrup +can and screwed the cover down very tight: “Well, if her folks will let +her stay, how would you like to have Molly come and stay with us till +her mother gets back from the hospital? Now you’ve got a room of your +own, I guess if you wanted to you could have her sleep with you.” + +“Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly!” shouted Betsy, jumping up and down, and then +hugging the little girl with all her might. “Oh, it will be like having +a little sister!” + +Cousin Ann sounded a dry, warning note: “Don’t be too sure her folks +will let her. We don’t know about them yet.” + +Betsy ran to her, and caught her hand, looking up at her with shining +eyes. “Cousin Ann, if YOU go to see them and ask them, they will!” + +This made even Cousin Ann give a little abashed smile of pleasure, +although she made her face grave again at once and said: “You’d better +go along back to the house now, Betsy. It’s time for you to help Mother +with the supper.” + +The two children trotted back along the darkening wood road, Shep +running before them, little Molly clinging fast to the older child’s +hand. “Aren’t you ever afraid, Betsy, in the woods this way?” she asked +admiringly, looking about her with timid eyes. + +“Oh, no!” said Betsy, protectingly; “there’s nothing to be afraid of, +except getting off on the wrong fork of the road, near the Wolf Pit.” + +“Oh, OW!” said Molly, cringing. “What’s the Wolf Pit? What an awful +name!” + +Betsy laughed. She tried to make her laugh sound brave like Cousin +Ann’s, which always seemed so scornful of being afraid. As a matter of +fact, she was beginning to fear that they HAD made the wrong turn, and +she was not quite sure that she could find the way home. But she put +this out of her mind and walked along very fast, peering ahead into the +dusk. “Oh, it hasn’t anything to do with wolves,” she said in answer to +Molly’s question; “anyhow, not now. It’s just a big, deep hole in the +ground where a brook had dug out a cave.... Uncle Henry told me all +about it when he showed it to me ... and then part of the roof caved in; +sometimes there’s ice in the corner of the covered part all the summer, +Aunt Abigail says.” + +“Why do you call it the Wolf Pit?” asked Molly, walking very close to +Betsy and holding very tightly to her hand. + +“Oh, long, ever so long ago, when the first settlers came up here, they +heard a wolf howling all night, and when it didn’t stop in the morning, +they came up here on the mountain and found a wolf had fallen in and +couldn’t get out.” + +“My! I hope they killed him!” said Molly. + +“Oh, gracious! that was more than a hundred years ago,” said Betsy. She +was not thinking of what she was saying. She was thinking that if they +WERE on the right road they ought to be home by this time. She was +thinking that the right road ran down hill to the house all the way, and +that this certainly seemed to be going up a little. She was wondering +what had become of Shep. “Stand here just a minute, Molly,” she said. “I +want ... I just want to go ahead a little bit and see ... and see ...” She +darted on around a curve of the road and stood still, her heart sinking. +The road turned there and led straight up the mountain! + +For just a moment the little girl felt a wild impulse to burst out in a +shriek for Aunt Frances, and to run crazily away, anywhere so long as +she was running. But the thought of Molly standing back there, +trustfully waiting to be taken care of, shut Betsy’s lips together hard +before her scream of fright got out. She stood still, thinking. Now she +mustn’t get frightened. All they had to do was to walk back along the +road till they came to the fork and then make the right turn. But what +if they didn’t get back to the turn till it was so dark they couldn’t +see it...? Well, she mustn’t think of that. She ran back, calling, “Come +on, Molly,” in a tone she tried to make as firm as Cousin Ann’s. “I +guess we have made the wrong turn after all. We’d better ...” + +But there was no Molly there. In the brief moment Betsy had stood +thinking, Molly had disappeared. The long, shadowy wood road held not a +trace of her. + +Then Betsy WAS frightened and then she DID begin to scream, at the top +of her voice, “Molly! Molly!” She was beside herself with terror, and +started back hastily to hear Molly’s voice, very faint, apparently +coming from the ground under her feet. + +“Ow! Ow! Betsy! Get me out! Get me out!” + +“Where ARE you?” shrieked Betsy. + +“I don’t know!” came Molly’s sobbing voice. “I just moved the least +little bit out of the road, and slipped on the ice and began to slide +and I couldn’t stop myself and I fell down into a deep hole!” + +Betsy’s head felt as though her hair were standing up straight on end +with horror. Molly must have fallen down into the Wolf Pit! Yes, they +were quite near it. She remembered now that big white-birch tree stood +right at the place where the brook tumbled over the edge and fell into +it. Although she was dreadfully afraid of falling in herself, she went +cautiously over to this tree, feeling her way with her foot to make sure +she did not slip, and peered down into the cavernous gloom below. Yes, +there was Molly’s little face, just a white speck. The child was crying, +sobbing, and holding up her arms to Betsy. + +“Are you hurt, Molly?” + +“No. I fell into a big snow-bank, but I’m all wet and frozen and I want +to get out! I want to get out!” + +Betsy held on to the birch-tree. Her head whirled. What SHOULD she do! +“Look here, Molly,” she called down, “I’m going to run back along to the +right road and back to the house and get Uncle Henry. He’ll come with a +rope and get you out!” + +At this Molly’s crying rose to a frantic scream. “Oh, Betsy, don’t leave +me here alone! Don’t! Don’t! The wolves will get me! Betsy, DON’T leave +me alone!” The child was wild with terror. + +“But I CAN’T get you out myself!” screamed back Betsy, crying herself. +Her teeth were chattering with the cold. + +“Don’t go! Don’t go!” came up from the darkness of the pit in a piteous +howl. Betsy made a great effort and stopped crying. She sat down on a +stone and tried to think. And this is what came into her mind as a +guide: “What would Cousin Ann do if she were here? She wouldn’t cry. She +would THINK of something.” + +Betsy looked around her desperately. The first thing she saw was the big +limb of a pine-tree, broken off by the wind, which half lay and half +slantingly stood up against a tree a little distance above the mouth of +the pit. It had been there so long that the needles had all dried and +fallen off, and the skeleton of the branch with the broken stubs looked +like ... yes, it looked like a ladder! THAT was what Cousin Ann would have +done! + +“Wait a minute! Wait a minute, Molly!” she called wildly down the pit, +warm all over in excitement. “Now listen. You go off there in a corner, +where the ground makes a sort of roof. I’m going to throw down something +you can climb up on, maybe.” + +“Ow! Ow, it’ll hit me!” cried poor little Molly, more and more +frightened. But she scrambled off under her shelter obediently, while +Betsy struggled with the branch. It was so firmly imbedded in the snow +that at first she could not budge it at all. But after she cleared that +away and pried hard with the stick she was using as a lever she felt it +give a little. She bore down with all her might, throwing her weight +again and again on her lever, and finally felt the big branch +perceptibly move. After that it was easier, as its course was down hill +over the snow to the mouth of the pit. Glowing, and pushing, wet with +perspiration, she slowly maneuvered it along to the edge, turned it +squarely, gave it a great shove, and leaned over anxiously. Then she +gave a great sigh of relief! Just as she had hoped, it went down sharp +end first and stuck fast in the snow which had saved Molly from broken +bones. She was so out of breath with her work that for a moment she +could not speak. Then, “Molly, there! Now I guess you can climb up to +where I can reach you.” + +Molly made a rush for any way out of her prison, and climbed, like the +little practiced squirrel that she was, up from one stub to another to +the top of the branch. She was still below the edge of the pit there, +but Betsy lay flat down on the snow and held out her hands. Molly took +hold hard, and, digging her toes into the snow, slowly wormed her way up +to the surface of the ground. + +It was then, at that very moment, that Shep came bounding up to them, +barking loudly, and after him Cousin Ann striding along in her rubber +boots, with a lantern in her hand and a rather anxious look on her face. + +She stopped short and looked at the two little girls, covered with snow, +their faces flaming with excitement, and at the black hole gaping behind +them. “I always TOLD Father we ought to put a fence around that pit,” +she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Some day a sheep’s going to fall +down there. Shep came along to the house without you, and we thought +most likely you’d taken the wrong turn.” + +Betsy felt terribly aggrieved. She wanted to be petted and praised for +her heroism. She wanted Cousin Ann to REALIZE ... oh, if Aunt Frances were +only there, SHE would realize...! + +“I fell down in the hole, and Betsy wanted to go and get Mr. Putney, but +I wouldn’t let her, and so she threw down a big branch and I climbed +out,” explained Molly, who, now that her danger was past, took Betsy’s +action quite as a matter of course. + +“Oh, that was how it happened,” said Cousin Ann. She looked down the +hole and saw the big branch, and looked back and saw the long trail of +crushed snow where Betsy had dragged it. “Well, now, that was quite a +good idea for a little girl to have,” she said briefly. “I guess you’ll +do to take care of Molly all right!” + +She spoke in her usual voice and immediately drew the children after +her, but Betsy’s heart was singing joyfully as she trotted along +clasping Cousin Ann’s strong hand. Now she knew that Cousin Ann +realized.... She trotted fast, smiling to herself in the darkness. + +“What made you think of doing that?” asked Cousin Ann presently, as they +approached the house. + +“Why, I tried to think what YOU would have done if you’d been there,” +said Betsy. + +“Oh!” said Cousin Ann. “Well ...” + +She didn’t say another word, but Betsy, glancing up into her face as +they stepped into the lighted room, saw an expression that made her give +a little skip and hop of joy. She had PLEASED Cousin Ann. + +That night, as she lay in her bed, her arm over Molly cuddled up warm +beside her, she remembered, oh, ever so faintly, as something of no +importance, that she had failed in an examination that afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BETSY STARTS A SEWING SOCIETY + + +Betsy and Molly had taken Deborah to school with them. Deborah was the +old wooden doll with brown, painted curls. She had lain in a trunk +almost ever since Aunt Abigail’s childhood, because Cousin Ann had never +cared for dolls when she was a little girl. At first Betsy had not dared +to ask to see her, much less to play with her, but when Ellen, as she +had promised, came over to Putney Farm that first Saturday she had said +right out, as soon as she landed in the house, “Oh, Mrs. Putney, can’t +we play with Deborah?” And Aunt Abigail had answered: “Why YES, of +course! I KNEW there was something I’ve kept forgetting!” She went up +with them herself to the cold attic and opened the little hair-trunk +under the eaves. + +There lay a doll, flat on her back, looking up at them brightly out of +her blue eyes. + +“Well, Debby dear,” said Aunt Abigail, taking her up gently. “It’s a +good long time since you and I played under the lilac bushes, isn’t it? +I expect you’ve been pretty lonesome up here all these years. Never you +mind, you’ll have some good times again, now.” She pulled down the +doll’s full, ruffled skirt, straightened the lace at the neck of her +dress, and held her for a moment, looking down at her silently. You +could tell by the way she spoke, by the way she touched Deborah, by the +way she looked at her, that she had loved the doll very dearly, and +maybe still did, a little. + +When she put Deborah into Betsy’s arms, the child felt that she was +receiving something very precious, almost something alive. She and Ellen +looked with delight at the yards and yards of picot-edged ribbon, sewed +on by hand to the ruffles of the skirt, and lifted up the silk folds to +admire the carefully made, full petticoats and frilly drawers, the +pretty, soft old kid shoes and white stockings. Aunt Abigail looked at +them with an absent smile on her lips, as though she were living over +old scenes. + +[Illustration: Betsy and Ellen and the old doll.] + +Finally, “It’s too cold to play up here,” she said, coming to herself +with a long breath. “You’d better bring Deborah and the trunk down into +the south room.” She carried the doll, and Betsy and Ellen each took an +end of the old trunk, no larger than a modern suitcase. They settled +themselves on the big couch, back of the table with the lamp. Old Shep +was on it, but Betsy coaxed him off by putting down some bones Cousin +Ann had been saving for him. When he finished those and came back for +the rest of his snooze, he found his place occupied by the little girls, +sitting cross-legged, examining the contents of the trunk, all spread +out around them. Shep sighed deeply and sat down with his nose resting +on the couch near Betsy’s knee, following all their movements with his +kind, dark eyes. Once in a while Betsy stopped hugging Deborah or +exclaiming over a new dress long enough to pat Shep’s head and fondle +his ears. This was what he was waiting for, and every time she did it he +wagged his tail thumpingly against the floor. + +After that Deborah and her trunk were kept downstairs where Betsy could +play with her. And often she was taken to school. You never heard of +such a thing as taking a doll to school, did you? Well, I told you this +was a queer, old-fashioned school that any modern School Superintendent +would sniff at. As a matter of fact, it was not only Betsy who took her +doll to school; all the little girls did, whenever they felt like it. +Miss Benton, the teacher, had a shelf for them in the entry-way where +the wraps were hung, and the dolls sat on it and waited patiently all +through lessons. At recess time or nooning each little mother snatched +her own child and began to play. As soon as it grew warm enough to play +outdoors without just racing around every minute to keep from freezing +to death, the dolls and their mothers went out to a great pile of rocks +at one end of the bare, stony field which was the playground. + +There they sat and played in the spring sunshine, warmer from day to +day. There were a great many holes and shelves and pockets and little +caves in the rocks which made lovely places for playing keep-house. Each +little girl had her own particular cubby-holes and “rooms,” and they +“visited” their dolls back and forth all around the pile. And as they +played they talked very fast about all sorts of things, being little +girls and not boys who just yelled and howled inarticulately as they +played ball or duck-on-a-rock or prisoner’s goal, racing and running and +wrestling noisily all around the rocks. + +There was one child who neither played with the girls nor ran and +whooped with the boys. This was little six-year-old ’Lias, one of the +two boys in Molly’s first grade. At recess time he generally hung about +the school door by himself, looking moodily down and knocking the toe of +his ragged, muddy shoe against a stone. The little girls were talking +about him one day as they played. “My! Isn’t that ’Lias Brewster the +horridest-looking child!” said Eliza, who had the second grade all to +herself, although Molly now read out of the second reader with her. + +“Mercy, yes! So ragged!” said Anastasia Monahan, called Stashie for +short. She was a big girl, fourteen years old, who was in the seventh +grade. + +“He doesn’t look as if he EVER combed his hair!” said Betsy. “It looks +just like a wisp of old hay.” + +“And sometimes,” little Molly proudly added her bit to the talk of the +older girls, “he forgets to put on any stockings and just has his +dreadful old shoes on over his dirty, bare feet.” + +“I guess he hasn’t GOT any stockings half the time,” said big Stashie +scornfully. “I guess his stepfather drinks ’em up.” + +“How CAN he drink up stockings!” asked Molly, opening her round eyes +very wide. + +“Sh! You mustn’t ask. Little girls shouldn’t know about such things, +should they, Betsy?” + +“No INDEED,” said Betsy, looking mysterious. As a matter of fact, she +herself had no idea what Stashie meant, but she looked wise and said +nothing. + +Some of the boys had squatted down near the rocks for a game of marbles +now. + +“Well, anyhow,” said Molly resentfully, “I don’t care what his +stepfather does to his stockings. I wish ’Lias would wear ’em to school. +And lots of times he hasn’t anything on under those horrid old overalls +either! I can see his bare skin through the torn places.” + +“I wish he didn’t have to sit so near me,” said Betsy complainingly. +“He’s SO dirty.” + +“Well, I don’t want him near ME, either!” cried all the other little +girls at once. Ralph glanced up at them frowning, from where he knelt +with his middle finger crooked behind a marble ready for a shot. He +looked as he always did, very rough and half-threatening. “Oh, you girls +make me sick!” he said. He sent his marble straight to the mark, +pocketed his opponent’s, and stood up, scowling at the little mothers. +“I guess if you had to live the way he does you’d be dirty! Half the +time he don’t get anything to eat before he comes to school, and if my +mother didn’t put up some extra for him in my box he wouldn’t get any +lunch either. And then you go and jump on him!” + +“Why doesn’t his own mother put up his lunch?” Betsy challenged their +critic. + +“He hasn’t got any mother. She’s dead,” said Ralph, turning away with +his hands in his pockets. He yelled to the boys, “Come on, fellers, +beat-che to the bridge and back!” and was off, with the others racing at +his heels. + +“Well, anyhow, I don’t care; he IS dirty and horrid!” said Stashie +emphatically, looking over at the drooping, battered little figure, +leaning against the school door, listlessly kicking at a stone. + +But Betsy did not say anything more just then. + +The teacher, who “boarded ’round,” was staying at Putney Farm at that +time, and that evening, as they all sat around the lamp in the south +room, Betsy looked up from her game of checkers with Uncle Henry and +asked, “How can anybody drink up stockings?” + +“Mercy, child! what are you talking about?” asked Aunt Abigail. + +Betsy repeated what Anastasia Monahan had said, and was flattered by the +instant, rather startled attention given her by the grown-ups. “Why, I +didn’t know that Bud Walker had taken to drinking again!” said Uncle +Henry. “My! That’s too bad!” + +“Who takes care of that child anyhow, now that poor Susie is dead?” Aunt +Abigail asked of everybody in general. + +“Is he just living there ALONE, with that good-for-nothing stepfather? +How do they get enough to EAT?” said Cousin Ann, looking troubled. + +Apparently Betsy’s question had brought something half forgotten and +altogether neglected into their minds. They talked for some time after +that about ’Lias, the teacher confirming what Betsy and Stashie had +said. + +“And we sitting right here with plenty to eat and never raising a hand!” +cried Aunt Abigail. + +“How you WILL let things slip out of your mind!” said Cousin Ann +remorsefully. + +It struck Betsy vividly that ’Lias was not at all the one they blamed +for his objectionable appearance. She felt quite ashamed to go on with +the other things she and the little girls had said, and fell silent, +pretending to be very much absorbed in her game of checkers. + +“Do you know,” said Aunt Abigail suddenly, as though an inspiration had +just struck her, “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that Elmore Pond +might adopt ’Lias if he was gone at the right way.” + +“Who’s Elmore Pond?” asked the schoolteacher. + +“Why, you must have seen him—that great, big, red-faced, +good-natured-looking man that comes through here twice a year, buying +stock. He lives over Bigby way, but his wife was a Hillsboro girl, Matey +Pelham—an awfully nice girl she was, too. They never had any children, +and Matey told me the last time she was back for a visit that she and +her husband talked quite often about adopting a little boy. Seems that +Mr. Pond has always wanted a little boy. He’s such a nice man! ’Twould +be a lovely home for a child.” + +“But goodness!” said the teacher. “Nobody would want to adopt such an +awful-looking little ragamuffin as that ’Lias. He looks so meeching, +too. I guess his stepfather is real mean to him, when he’s been +drinking, and it’s got ’Lias so he hardly dares hold his head up.” + +The clock struck loudly. “Well, hear that!” said Cousin Ann. “Nine +o’clock and the children not in bed! Molly’s most asleep this minute. +Trot along with you, Betsy! Trot along, Molly. And, Betsy, be sure +Molly’s nightgown is buttoned up all the way.” + +So it happened that, although the grown-ups were evidently going on to +talk about ’Lias Brewster, Betsy heard no more of what they said. + +She herself went on thinking about ’Lias while she was undressing and +answering absently little Molly’s chatter. She was thinking about him +even after they had gone to bed, had put the light out, and were lying +snuggled up to each other, back to front, their four legs, crooked at +the same angle, fitting in together neatly like two spoons in a drawer. +She was thinking about him when she woke up, and as soon as she could +get hold of Cousin Ann she poured out a new plan. She had never been +afraid of Cousin Ann since the evening Molly had fallen into the Wolf +Pit and Betsy had seen that pleased smile on Cousin Ann’s firm lips. +“Cousin Ann, couldn’t we girls at school get together and sew—you’d +have to help us some—and make some nice, new clothes for little ’Lias +Brewster, and fix him up so he’ll look better, and maybe that Mr. Pond +will like him and adopt him?” + +Cousin Ann listened attentively and nodded her head. “Yes, I think that +would be a good idea,” she said. “We were thinking last night we ought +to do something for him. If you’ll make the clothes, Mother’ll knit him +some stockings and Father will get him some shoes. Mr. Pond never makes +his spring trip till late May, so we’ll have plenty of time.” + +Betsy was full of importance that day at school and at recess time got +the girls together on the rocks and told them all about the plan. +“Cousin Ann says she’ll help us, and we can meet at our house every +Saturday afternoon till we get them done. It’ll be fun! Aunt Abigail +telephoned down to the store right away, and Mr. Wilkins says he’ll give +the cloth if we’ll make it up.” + +Betsy spoke very grandly of “making it up,” although she had hardly held +a needle in her life, and when the Saturday afternoon meetings began she +was ashamed to see how much better Ellen and even Eliza could sew than +she. To keep her end up, she was driven to practising her stitches +around the lamp in the evenings, with Aunt Abigail keeping an eye on +her. + +Cousin Ann supervised the sewing on Saturday afternoons and taught those +of the little girls whose legs were long enough how to use the sewing +machine. First they made a little pair of trousers out of an old gray +woolen skirt of Aunt Abigail’s. This was for practice, before they cut +into the piece of new blue serge that the storekeeper had sent up. +Cousin Ann showed them how to pin the pattern on the goods and they each +cut out one piece. Those flat, queer-shaped pieces of cloth certainly +did look less like a pair of trousers to Betsy than anything she had +ever seen. Then one of the girls read aloud very slowly the +mysterious-sounding directions from the wrapper of the pattern about how +to put the pieces together, Cousin Ann helped here a little, +particularly just as they were about to put the sections together +wrong-side-up. Stashie, as the oldest, did the first basting, putting +the notches together carefully, just as they read the instructions +aloud, and there, all of a sudden, was a rough little sketch of a pair +of knee trousers, without any hem or any waist-band, of course, but just +the two-legged, complicated shape they ought to be! It was like a +miracle to Betsy! Then Cousin Ann helped them sew the seams on the +machine, and they all turned to for the basting of the facings and the +finishing. They each made one buttonhole. It was the first one Betsy had +ever made, and when she got through she was as tired as though she had +run all the way to school and back. Tired, but very proud; although when +Cousin Ann inspected that buttonhole, she covered her face with her +handkerchief for a minute, as though she were going to sneeze, although +she didn’t sneeze at all. + +It took them two Saturdays to finish up that trial pair of trousers, and +when they showed the result to Aunt Abigail she was delighted. “Well, to +think of that being my old skirt!” she said, putting on her spectacles +to examine the work. She did not laugh, either, when she saw those +buttonholes, but she got up hastily and went into the next room, where +they soon heard her coughing. + +Then they made a little blouse out of some new blue gingham. Cousin Ann +happened to have enough left over from a dress she was making. This thin +material was ever so much easier to manage than the gray flannel, and +they had the little garment done in no time, even to the buttons and +buttonholes. When it came to making the buttonholes, Cousin Ann sat +right down with each one and supervised every stitch. You may not be +surprised to know that they were a great improvement over the first +batch. + +Then, making a great ceremony of it, they began on the store material, +working twice a week now, because May was slipping along very fast, and +Mr. Pond might be there at any time. They knew pretty well how to go +ahead on this one, after the experience of their first pair, and Cousin +Ann was not much needed, except as adviser in hard places. She sat there +in the room with them, doing some sewing of her own, so quiet that half +the time they forgot she was there. It was great fun, sewing all +together and chattering as they sewed. + +A good deal of the time they talked about how splendid it was of them to +be so kind to little ’Lias. “My! I don’t believe most girls would put +themselves out this way for a dirty little boy!” said Stashie, +complacently. + +“No INDEED!” chimed in Betsy. “It’s just like a story, isn’t it—working +and sacrificing for the poor!” + +“I guess he’ll thank us all right for sure!” said Ellen. “He’ll never +forget us as long as he lives, I don’t suppose.” + +Betsy, her imagination fired by this suggestion, said, “I guess when +he’s grown-up he’ll be telling everybody about how, when he was so poor +and ragged, Stashie Monahan and Ellen Peters and Elizabeth Ann ...” + +“And Eliza!” put in that little girl hastily, very much afraid she would +not be given her due share of the glory. + +Cousin Ann sewed, and listened, and said nothing. + +Toward the end of May two little blouses, two pairs of trousers, two +pairs of stockings, two sets of underwear (contributed by the teacher), +and the pair of shoes Uncle Henry gave were ready. The little girls +handled the pile of new garments with inexpressible pride, and debated +just which way of bestowing them was sufficiently grand to be worthy the +occasion. Betsy was for taking them to school and giving them to ’Lias +one by one, so that each child could have her thanks separately. But +Stashie wanted to take them to the house when ’Lias’s stepfather would +be there, and shame him by showing that little girls had had to do what +he ought to have done. + +Cousin Ann broke into the discussion by asking, in her quiet, firm +voice, “Why do you want ’Lias to know where the clothes come from?” + +They had forgotten again that she was there, and turned around quickly +to stare at her. Nobody could think of any answer to her very queer +question. It had not occurred to any one that there could BE such a +question. + +Cousin Ann shifted her ground and asked another: “Why did you make these +clothes, anyhow?” + +They stared again, speechless. Why did she ask that? She knew why. + +Finally little Molly said, in her honest, baby way, “Why, YOU know why, +Miss Ann! So ’Lias Brewster will look nice, and Mr. Pond will maybe +adopt him.” + +“Well,” said Cousin Ann, “what has that got to do with ’Lias knowing who +did it?” + +“Why, he wouldn’t know who to be grateful to,” cried Betsy. + +“Oh,” said Cousin Ann. “Oh, I see. You didn’t do it to help ’Lias. You +did it to have him grateful to you. I see. Molly is such a little girl, +it’s no wonder she didn’t really take in what you girls were up to.” She +nodded her head wisely, as though now she understood. + +But if she did, little Molly certainly did not. She had not the least +idea what everybody was talking about. She looked from one sober, +downcast face to another rather anxiously. What was the matter? + +Apparently nothing was really the matter, she decided, for after a +minute’s silence Miss Ann got up with entirely her usual face of +cheerful gravity, and said: “Don’t you think you little girls ought to +top off this last afternoon with a tea-party? There’s a new batch of +cookies, and you can make yourselves some lemonade if you want to.” + +They had these refreshments out on the porch, in the sunshine, with +their dolls for guests and a great deal of chatter for sauce. Nobody +said another word about how to give the clothes to ’Lias, till, just as +the girls were going away, Betsy said, walking along with the two older +ones, “Say, don’t you think it’d be fun to go some evening after dark +and leave the clothes on ’Lias’s doorstep, and knock and run away quick +before anybody comes to the door?” She spoke in an uncertain voice and +smoothed Deborah’s carved wooden curls. + +“Yes, I do!” said Ellen, not looking at Betsy but down at the weeds by +the road. “I think it would be lots of fun!” + +Little Molly, playing with Annie and Eliza, did not hear this; but she +was allowed to go with the older girls on the great expedition. + +It was a warm, dark evening in late May, with the frogs piping their +sweet, high note, and the first of the fireflies wheeling over the wet +meadows near the tumble-down house where ’Lias lived. The girls took +turns in carrying the big paper-wrapped bundle, and stole along in the +shadow of the trees, full of excitement, looking over their shoulders at +nothing and pressing their hands over their mouths to keep back the +giggles. There was, of course, no reason on earth why they should +giggle, which is, of course, the very reason why they did. If you’ve +ever been a little girl you know about that. + +One window of the small house was dimly lighted, they found, when they +came in sight of it, and they thrilled with excitement and joyful alarm. +Suppose ’Lias’s dreadful stepfather should come out and yell at them! +They came forward on tiptoe, making a great deal of noise by stepping on +twigs, rustling bushes, crackling gravel under their feet and doing all +the other things that make such a noise at night and never do in the +daytime. But nobody stirred inside the room with the lighted window. +They crept forward and peeped cautiously inside ... and stopped giggling. +The dim light coming from a little kerosene lamp with a smoky chimney +fell on a dismal, cluttered room, a bare, greasy wooden table, and two +broken-backed chairs, with little ’Lias in one of them. He had fallen +asleep with his head on his arms, his pinched, dirty, sad little figure +showing in the light from the lamp. His feet dangled high above the +floor in their broken, muddy shoes. One sleeve was torn to the shoulder. +A piece of dry bread had slipped from his bony little hand and a tin +dipper stood beside him on the bare table. Nobody else was in the room, +nor evidently in the darkened, empty, fireless house. + +[Illustration: He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms.] + +As long as she lives Betsy will never forget what she saw that night +through that window. Her eyes grew very hot and her hands very cold. Her +heart thumped hard. She reached for little Molly and gave her a great +hug in the darkness. Suppose it were little Molly asleep there, all +alone in the dirty, dismal house, with no supper and nobody to put her +to bed. She found that Ellen, next her, was crying quietly into the +corner of her apron. + +Nobody said a word. Stashie, who had the bundle, walked around soberly +to the front door, put it down, and knocked loudly. They all darted away +noiselessly to the road, to the shadow of the trees, and waited until +the door opened. A square of yellow light appeared, with ’Lias’s figure, +very small, at the bottom of it. They saw him stoop and pick up the +bundle and go back into the house. Then they went quickly and silently +back, separating at the cross-roads with no good-night greetings. + +Molly and Betsy began to climb the hill to Putney Farm. It was a very +warm night for May, and little Molly began to puff for breath. “Let’s +sit down on this rock awhile and rest,” she said. + +They were half-way up the hill now. From the rock they could see the +lights in the farmhouses scattered along the valley road and on the side +of the mountain opposite them, like big stars fallen from the multitude +above. Betsy lay down on the rock and looked up at the stars. After a +silence little Molly’s chirping voice said, “Oh, I thought you said we +were going to march up to ’Lias in school and give him his clothes. Did +you forget about that?” + +Betsy gave a wriggle of shame as she remembered that plan. “No, we +didn’t forget it,” she said. “We thought this would be a better way.” + +“But how’ll ’Lias know who to thank?” asked Molly. + +“That’s no matter,” said Betsy. Yes, it was Elizabeth-Ann-that-was who +said that. And meant it, too. She was not even thinking of what she was +saying. Between her and the stars, thick over her in the black, soft +sky, she saw again that dirty, disordered room and the little boy, all +alone, asleep with a piece of dry bread in his bony little fingers. + +She looked hard and long at that picture, all the time seeing the quiet +stars through it. And then she turned over and hid her face on the rock. +She had said her “Now I lay me” every night since she could remember, +but she had never prayed till she lay there with her face on the rock, +saying over and over, “Oh, God, please, please, PLEASE make Mr. Pond +adopt ’Lias.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE NEW CLOTHES FAIL + + +All the little girls went early to school the next day, eager for the +first glimpse of ’Lias in his new clothes. They now quite enjoyed the +mystery about who had made them, and were full of agreeable excitement +as the little figure was seen approaching down the road. He wore the +gray trousers and the little blue shirt; the trousers were a little too +long, the shirt a perfect fit. The girls gazed at him with pride as he +came on the playground, walking briskly along in the new shoes, which +were just the right size. He had been wearing all winter a pair of +cast-off women’s shoes. From a distance he looked like another child. +But as he came closer ... oh! his face! his hair! his hands! his +finger-nails! The little fellow had evidently tried to live up to his +beautiful new raiment, for his hair had been roughly put back from his +face, and around his mouth and nose was a small area of almost clean +skin, where he had made an attempt at washing his face. But he had made +practically no impression on the layers of encrusted dirt, and the +little girls looked at him ruefully. Mr. Pond would certainly never take +a fancy to such a dreadfully grimy child! His new, clean clothes made +him look all the worse, as though dirty on purpose! + +The little girls retired to their rock-pile and talked over their bitter +disappointment, Ralph and the other boys absorbed in a game of marbles +near them. ’Lias had gone proudly into the schoolroom to show himself to +Miss Benton. + +It was the day before Decoration Day and a good deal of time was taken +up with practising on the recitations they were going to give at the +Decoration Day exercises in the village. Several of the children from +each school in the township were to speak pieces in the Town Hall. Betsy +was to recite BARBARA FRIETCHIE, her first love in that school, but she +droned it over with none of her usual pleasure, her eyes on little +’Lias’s smiling face, so unconscious of its dinginess. + +At noon time the boys disappeared down toward the swimming-hole. They +often took a swim at noon and nobody thought anything about it on that +day. The little girls ate their lunch on their rock, mourning over the +failure of their plans, and scheming ways to meet the new obstacle. +Stashie suggested, “Couldn’t your Aunt Abigail invite him up to your +house for supper and then give him a bath afterward?” But Betsy, +although she had never heard of treating a supper-guest in this way, was +sure that it was not possible. She shook her head sadly, her eyes on the +far-off gleam of white where the boys jumped up and down in their +swimming-hole. That was not a good name for it, because there was only +one part of it deep enough to swim in. Mostly it was a shallow bay in an +arm of the river, where the water was only up to a little boy’s knees +and where there was almost no current. The sun beating down on it made +it quite warm, and even the first-graders’ mothers allowed them to go +in. They only jumped up and down and squealed and splashed each other, +but they enjoyed that quite as much as Frank and Harry, the two +seventh-graders, enjoyed their swooping dives from the spring-board over +the pool. They were late in getting back from the river that day and +Miss Benton had to ring her bell hard in that direction before they came +trooping up and clattered into the schoolroom, where the girls already +sat, their eyes lowered virtuously to their books, with a prim air of +self-righteousness. THEY were never late! + +Betsy was reciting her arithmetic. She was getting on famously with +that. Weeks ago, as soon as Miss Benton had seen the confusion of the +little girl’s mind, the two had settled down to a serious struggle with +that subject. Miss Benton had had Betsy recite all by herself, so she +wouldn’t be flurried by the others; and to begin with had gone back, +back, back to bedrock, to things Betsy absolutely knew, to the 2x2’s and +the 3x3’s. And then, very cautiously, a step at a time, they had +advanced, stopping short whenever Betsy felt a beginning of that +bewildered “guessing” impulse which made her answer wildly at random. + +After a while, in the dark night which arithmetic had always been to +her, Betsy began to make out a few definite outlines, which were always +there, facts which she knew to be so without guessing from the +expression of her teacher’s face. From that moment her progress had been +rapid, one sure fact hooking itself on to another, and another one on to +that. She attacked a page of problems now with a zest and +self-confidence which made her arithmetic lessons among the most +interesting hours at school. On that day she was standing up at the +board, a piece of chalk in her hand, chewing her tongue and thinking +hard how to find out the amount of wall-paper needed for a room 12 feet +square with two doors and two windows in it, when her eye fell on little +’Lias, bent over his reading book. She forgot her arithmetic, she forgot +where she was. She stared and stared, till Ellen, catching the direction +of her eyes, looked and stared too. Little ’Lias was CLEAN, +preternaturally, almost wetly clean. His face was clean and shining, his +ears shone pink and fair, his hands were absolutely spotless, even his +hay-colored hair was clean and, still damp, brushed flatly back till it +shone in the sun. Betsy blinked her eyes a great many times, thinking +she must be dreaming, but every time she opened them there was ’Lias, +looking white and polished like a new willow whistle. + +Somebody poked her hard in the ribs. She started and, turning, saw +Ralph, who was doing a sum beside her on the board, scowling at her +under his black brows. “Quit gawking at ’Lias,” he said under his +breath. “You make me tired!” Something conscious and shame-faced in his +manner made Betsy understand at once what had happened. Ralph had taken +’Lias down to the little boys’ wading-place and had washed him all over. +She remembered now that they had a piece of yellow soap there. + +Her face broke into a radiant smile and she began to say something to +Ralph about how nice that was of him, but he frowned again and said, +crossly, “Aw, cut it out! Look at what you’ve done there! If I couldn’t +9 x 8 and get it right!” + +“How queer boys are!” thought Betsy, erasing her mistake and putting +down the right answer. But she did not try to speak to Ralph again about +’Lias, not even after school, when she saw ’Lias going home with a new +cap on his head which she recognized as Ralph’s. She just looked at +Ralph’s bare head, and smiled her eyes at him, keeping the rest of her +face sober, the way Cousin Ann did. For just a minute Ralph almost +smiled back. At least he looked quite friendly. They stepped along +toward home together, the first time Ralph had ever condescended to walk +beside a girl. + +“We got a new colt,” he said. + +“Have you?” she said. “What color?” + +“Black, with a white star, and they’re going to let me ride him when +he’s old enough.” + +“My! Won’t that be nice!” said Betsy. + +And all the time they were both thinking of little ’Lias with his new +clothes and his sweet, thin face shining with cleanliness. + +“Do you like spruce gum?” asked Ralph. + +“Oh, I LOVE gum!” said Betsy. + +“Well, I’ll bring you down a chunk tomorrow, if I don’t forget it,” said +Ralph, turning off at the cross-roads. + +They had not mentioned ’Lias at all. + +The next day they were to have school only in the morning. In the +afternoon they were to go in a big hay-wagon down to the village to the +“exercises.” ’Lias came to school in his new blue-serge trousers and his +white blouse. The little girls gloated over his appearance, and hung +around him, for who was to “visit school” that morning but Mr. Pond +himself! Cousin Ann had arranged it somehow. It took Cousin Ann to fix +things! During recess, as they were playing still-pond-no-more-moving on +the playground, Mr. Pond and Uncle Henry drew up to the edge of the +playground, stopped their horse, and, talking and laughing together, +watched the children at play. Betsy looked hard at the big, burly, +kind-faced man with the smiling eyes and the hearty laugh, and decided +that he would “do” perfectly for ’Lias. But what she decided was to have +little importance, apparently, for after all he would not get out of the +wagon, but said he’d have to drive right on to the village. Just like +that, with no excuse other than a careless glance at his watch. No, he +guessed he wouldn’t have time, this morning, he said. Betsy cast an +imploring look up into Uncle Henry’s face, but evidently he felt himself +quite helpless, too. Oh, if only Cousin Ann had come! SHE would have +marched him into the schoolhouse double-quick. But Uncle Henry was not +Cousin Ann, and though Betsy saw him, as they drove away, +conscientiously point out little ’Lias, resplendent and shining, Mr. +Pond only nodded absently, as though, he were thinking of something +else. + +Betsy could have cried with disappointment; but she and the other girls, +putting their heads together for comfort, told each other that there was +time enough yet. Mr. Pond would not leave town till tomorrow. +Perhaps ... there was still some hope. + +But that afternoon even this last hope was dashed. As they gathered at +the schoolhouse, the girls fresh and crisp in their newly starched +dresses, with red or blue hair-ribbons, the boys very self-conscious in +their dark suits, clean collars, new caps (all but Ralph), and blacked +shoes, there was no little ’Lias. They waited and waited, but there was +no sign of him. Finally Uncle Henry, who was to drive the straw-ride +down to town, looked at his watch, gathered up the reins, and said they +would be late if they didn’t start right away. Maybe ’Lias had had a +chance to ride in with somebody else. + +They all piled in, the horses stepped off, the wheels grated on the +stones. And just at that moment a dismal sound of sobbing wails reached +them from the woodshed back of the schoolhouse. The children tumbled out +as fast as they had tumbled in, and ran back, Betsy and Ralph at their +head. There in the woodshed was little ’Lias, huddled in the corner +behind some wood, crying and crying and crying, digging his fists into +his eyes, his face all smeared with tears and dirt. And he was dressed +again in his filthy, torn old overalls and ragged shirt. His poor little +bare feet shone with a piteous cleanliness in that dark place. + +“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” the children asked him all at +once. He flung himself on Ralph, burying his face in the other boy’s +coat, and sobbed out some disjointed story which only Ralph could +hear ... and then as last and final climax of the disaster, who should +come looking over the shoulders of the children but Uncle Henry AND Mr. +Pond! And ’Lias all ragged and dirty again! Betsy sat down weakly on a +pile of wood, utterly disheartened. What was the use of anything! + +“What’s the matter?” asked the two men together. + +Ralph turned, with an angry toss of his dark head, and told them +bitterly, over the heads of the children: “He just had some decent +clothes.... First ones he’s EVER had! And he was plotting on going to +the exercises in the Town Hall. And that darned old skunk of a +stepfather has gone and taken ’em and sold ’em to get whiskey. I’d like +to KILL him!” + +Betsy could have flung her arms around Ralph, he looked so exactly the +way she felt. “Yes, he is a darned old skunk!” she said to herself, +rejoicing in the bad words she did not know before. It TOOK bad words to +qualify what had happened. + +She saw an electric spark pass from Ralph’s blazing eyes to Mr. Pond’s +broad face, now grim and fierce. She saw Mr. Pond step forward, brushing +the children out of his way, like a giant among dwarfs. She saw him +stoop and pick little ’Lias up in his great, strong arms, and, holding +him close, stride furiously out of the woodshed, across the playground +to the buggy which was waiting for him. + +“He’ll go to the exercises all right!” he called back over his shoulder +in a great roar. “He’ll go, if I have to buy out the whole town to get +him an outfit! And that whelp won’t get these clothes, either; you hear +me say so!” + +He sprang into the buggy and, holding ’Lias on his lap, took up the +reins and drove rapidly forward. + +They saw little ’Lias again, entering the Town Hall, holding fast to Mr. +Pond’s hand. He was magnificent in a whole suit of store clothes, coat +and all, and he wore white stockings and neat, low shoes, like a city +child! + +They saw him later, up on the platform, squeaking out his little +patriotic poem, his eyes, shining like stars, fixed on one broad, +smiling face in the audience. When he finished he was overcome with +shyness by the applause, and for a moment forgot to turn and leave the +platform. He hung his head, and, looking out from under his eyebrows, +gave a quaint, shy little smile at the audience. Betsy saw Mr. Pond’s +great smile waver and grow dim. His eyes filled so full that he had to +take out his handkerchief and blow his nose loudly. + +And they saw little ’Lias once more, for the last time. Mr. Pond’s buggy +drove rapidly past their slow-moving hay-wagon, Mr. Pond holding the +reins masterfully in one hand. Beside him, very close, sat ’Lias with +his lap full of toys, oh, FULL—like Christmas! In that fleeting glimpse +they saw a toy train, a stuffed dog, a candy-box, a pile of +picture-books, tops, paper-bags, and even the swinging crane of the big +mechanical toy dredge that everybody said the storekeeper could never +sell to anybody because it cost so much! + +As they passed swiftly, ’Lias looked out at them and waved his little +hand flutteringly. His other hand was tightly clasped in Mr. Pond’s big +one. He was smiling at them all. His eyes looked dazed and radiant. He +turned his head as the buggy flashed by to call out, in a shrill, +exulting little shout, “Good-bye! Good-bye! I’m going to live with ...” +They could hear no more. He was gone, only his little hand still waving +at them over the back of the buggy seat. + +Betsy drew a long, long breath. She found that Ralph was looking at her. +For a moment she couldn’t think what made him look so different. Then +she saw that he was smiling. She had never seen him smile before. He +smiled at her as though he were sure she would understand, and never +said a word. Betsy looked forward again and saw the gleaming buggy +vanishing over the hill in front of them. She smiled back at Ralph +silently. + +Not a thing had happened the way she had planned; no, not a single +thing! But it seemed to her she had never been so happy in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BETSY HAS A BIRTHDAY + + +Betsy’s birthday was the ninth day of September, and the Necronsett +Valley Fair is always held from the eighth to the twelfth. So it was +decided that Betsy should celebrate her birthday by going up to +Woodford, where the Fair was held. The Putneys weren’t going that year, +but the people on the next farm, the Wendells, said they could make room +in their surrey for the two little girls; for, of course, Molly was +going, too. In fact, she said the Fair was held partly to celebrate her +being six years old. This would happen on the seventeenth of October. +Molly insisted that that was PLENTY close enough to the ninth of +September to be celebrated then. This made Betsy feel like laughing out, +but observing that the Putneys only looked at each other with the +faintest possible quirk in the corners of their serious mouths, she +understood that they were afraid that Molly’s feelings might be hurt if +they laughed out loud. So Betsy tried to curve her young lips to the +same kind and secret mirth. + +And, I can’t tell you why, this effort not to hurt Molly’s feelings made +her have a perfect spasm of love for Molly. She threw herself on her and +gave her a great hug that tipped them both over on the couch on top of +Shep, who stopped snoring with his great gurgling snort, wriggled out +from under them, and stood with laughing eyes and wagging tail, looking +at them as they rolled and giggled among the pillows. + +“What dress are you going to wear to the Fair, Betsy?” asked Cousin Ann. +“And we must decide about Molly’s, too.” + +This stopped their rough-and-tumble fun in short order, and they applied +themselves to the serious question of a toilet. + +When the great day arrived and the surrey drove away from the Wendells’ +gate, Betsy was in a fresh pink-and-white gingham which she had helped +Cousin Ann make, and plump Molly looked like something good to eat in a +crisp white little dimity, one of Betsy’s old dresses, with a deep hem +taken in to make it short enough for the little butter-ball. Because it +was Betsy’s birthday, she sat on the front seat with Mr. Wendell, and +part of the time, when there were not too many teams on the road, she +drove, herself. Mrs. Wendell and her sister filled the back seat solidly +full from side to side and made one continuous soft lap on which Molly +happily perched, her eyes shining, her round cheeks red with joyful +excitement. Betsy looked back at her several times and thought how very +nice Molly looked. She had, of course, little idea how she herself +looked, because the mirrors at Putney Farm were all small and high up, +and anyhow they were so old and greenish that they made everybody look +very queer-colored. You looked in them to see if your hair was smooth, +and that was about all you could stand. + +So it was a great surprise to Betsy later in the morning, as she and +Molly wandered hand in hand through the wonders of Industrial Hall, to +catch sight of Molly in a full-length mirror as clear as water. She was +almost startled to see how faithfully reflected were the yellow of the +little girl’s curls, the clear pink and white of her face, and the blue +of her soft eyes. An older girl was reflected there also, near Molly, a +dark-eyed, red-cheeked, sturdy little girl, standing very straight on +two strong legs, holding her head high and free, her dark eyes looking +out brightly from her tanned face. For an instant Betsy gazed into those +clear eyes and then ... why, gracious goodness! That was herself she was +looking at! How changed she was! How very, very different she looked +from the last time she had seen herself in a big mirror! She remembered +it well—out shopping with Aunt Frances in a department store, she had +caught sight of a pale little girl, with a thin neck, and spindling legs +half-hidden in the folds of Aunt Frances’s skirts. But she didn’t look +even like the sister of this browned, muscular, upstanding child who +held Molly’s hand so firmly. + +All this came into her mind and went out again in a moment, for Molly +caught sight of a big doll in the next aisle and they hurried over to +inspect her clothing. The mirror was forgotten in the many exciting +sights and sounds and smells of their first county fair. + +The two little girls were to wander about as they pleased until noon, +when they were to meet the Wendells in the shadow of Industrial Hall and +eat their picnic lunch together. The two parties arrived together from +different directions, having seen very different sides of the Fair. The +children were full of the merry-go-rounds, the balloon-seller, the +toy-venders, and the pop-corn stands, while the Wendells exchanged views +on the shortness of a hog’s legs, the dip in a cow’s back, and the +thickness of a sheep’s wool. The Wendells, it seemed, had met some +cousins they didn’t expect to see, who, not knowing about Betsy and +Molly, had hoped that they might ride home with the Wendells. + +“Don’t you suppose,” Mrs. Wendell asked Betsy, “that you and Molly could +go home with the Vaughans? They’re here in their big wagon. You could +sit on the floor with the Vaughan children.” + +Betsy and Molly thought this would be great fun, and agreed +enthusiastically. + +“All right then,” said Mrs. Wendell. She called to a young man who stood +inside the building, near an open window: “Oh, Frank, Will Vaughan is +going to be in your booth this afternoon, isn’t he?” + +“Yes, ma’am,” said the young man. “His turn is from two to four.” + +“Well, you tell him, will you, that the two little girls who live at +Putney Farm are going to go home with them. They can sit on the bottom +of the wagon with the Vaughan young ones.” + +“Yes, ma’am,” said the young man, with a noticeable lack of interest in +how Betsy and Molly got home. + +“Now, Betsy,” said Mrs. Wendell, “you go round to that booth at two and +ask Will Vaughan what time they’re going to start and where their wagon +is, and then you be sure not to keep them waiting a minute.” + +“No, I won’t,” said Betsy. “I’ll be sure to be there on time.” + +She and Molly still had twenty cents to spend out of the forty they had +brought with them, twenty-five earned by berry-picking and fifteen a +present from Uncle Henry. They now put their heads together to see how +they could make the best possible use of their four nickels. Cousin Ann +had put no restrictions whatever on them, saying they could buy any sort +of truck or rubbish they could find, except the pink lemonade. She said +she had been told the venders washed their glasses in that, and their +hands, and for all she knew their faces. Betsy was for merry-go-rounds, +but Molly yearned for a big red balloon; and while they were buying that +a man came by with toy dogs, little brown dogs with curled-wire tails. +He called out that they would bark when you pulled their tails, and +seeing the little girls looking at him he pulled the tail of the one he +held. It gave forth a fine loud yelp, just like Shep when his tail got +stepped on. Betsy bought one, all done up neatly in a box tied with blue +string. She thought it a great bargain to get a dog who would bark for +five cents. (Later on, when they undid the string and opened the box, +they found the dog had one leg broken off and wouldn’t make the faintest +squeak when his tail was pulled; but that is the sort of thing you must +expect to have happen to you at a county fair.) + +Now they had ten cents left and they decided to have a ride apiece on +the merry-go-round. But, glancing up at the clock-face in the tower over +Agricultural Hall, Betsy noticed it was half-past two and she decided to +go first to the booth where Will Vaughan was to be and find out what +time they would start for home. She found the booth with no difficulty, +but William Vaughan was not in it. Nor was the young man she had seen +before. There was a new one, a strange one, a careless, whistling young +man, with very bright socks, very yellow shoes, and very striped cuffs. +He said, in answer to Betsy’s inquiry: “Vaughan? Will Vaughan? Never +heard the name,” and immediately went on whistling and looking up and +down the aisle over the heads of the little girls, who stood gazing up +at him with very wide, startled eyes. An older man leaned over from the +next booth and said: “Will Vaughan? He from Hillsboro? Well, I heard +somebody say those Hillsboro Vaughans had word one of their cows was +awful sick, and they had to start right home that minute.” + +Betsy came to herself out of her momentary daze and snatched Molly’s +hand. “Hurry! quick! We must find the Wendells before they get away!” In +her agitation (for she was really very much frightened) she forgot how +easily terrified little Molly was. Her alarm instantly sent the child +into a panic. “Oh, Betsy! Betsy! What will we do!” she gasped, as Betsy +pulled her along the aisle and out of the door. + +“Oh, the Wendells can’t be gone yet,” said Betsy reassuringly, though +she was not at all sure she was telling the truth. She ran as fast as +she could drag Molly’s fat legs, to the horse-shed where Mr. Wendell had +tied his horses and left the surrey. The horse-shed was empty, quite +empty. + +Betsy stopped short and stood still, her heart seeming to be up in her +throat so that she could hardly breathe. After all, she was only ten +that day, you must remember. Molly began to cry loudly, hiding her +weeping face in Betsy’s dress. “What will we do, Betsy! What can we DO!” +she wailed. + +Betsy did not answer. She did not know what they WOULD do! They were +eight miles from Putney Farm, far too much for Molly to walk, and anyhow +neither of them knew the way. They had only ten cents left, and nothing +to eat. And the only people they knew in all that throng of strangers +had gone back to Hillsboro. + +“What will we do, Betsy?” Molly kept on crying out, horrified by Betsy’s +silence and evident consternation. + +The other child’s head swam. She tried again the formula which had +helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself, +desperately, “What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!” But that did +not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what +Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances. Yes, one thing +Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first +of all. + +At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken +little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly, +“Now, Molly, stop crying this minute. I’ll take care of you, of course. +I’ll get you home all right.” + +“How’ll you ever do it?” sobbed Molly. + +“Everybody’s gone and left us. We can’t walk!” + +“Never you mind how,” said Betsy, trying to be facetious and +mock-mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little. +“That’s my surprise party for you. Just you wait. Now come on back to +that booth. Maybe Will Vaughan didn’t go home with his folks.” + +She had very little hope of this, and only went back there because it +seemed to her a little less dauntingly strange than every other spot in +the howling wilderness about her; for all at once the Fair, which had +seemed so lively and cheerful and gay before, seemed now a horrible, +frightening, noisy place, full of hurried strangers who came and went +their own ways, with not a glance out of their hard eyes for two little +girls stranded far from home. + +The bright-colored young man was no better when they found him again. He +stopped his whistling only long enough to say, “Nope, no Will Vaughan +anywhere around these diggings yet.” + +“We were going home with the Vaughans,” murmured Betsy, in a low tone, +hoping for some help from him. + +“Looks as though you’d better go home on the cars,” advised the young +man casually. He smoothed his black hair back straighter than ever from +his forehead and looked over their heads. + +“How much does it cost to go to Hillsboro on the cars?” asked Betsy with +a sinking heart. + +“You’ll have to ask somebody else about that,” said the young man. “What +I don’t know about this Rube state! I never was in it before.” He spoke +as though he were very proud of the fact. + +Betsy turned and went over to the older man who had told them about the +Vaughans. + +Molly trotted at her heels, quite comforted, now that Betsy was talking +so competently to grown-ups. She did not hear what they said, nor try +to. Now that Betsy’s voice sounded all right she had no more fears. +Betsy would manage somehow. She heard Betsy’s voice again talking to the +other man, but she was busy looking at an exhibit of beautiful jelly +glasses, and paid no attention. Then Betsy led her away again out of +doors, where everybody was walking back and forth under the bright +September sky, blowing on horns, waving plumes of brilliant +tissue-paper, tickling each other with peacock feathers, and eating +pop-corn and candy out of paper bags. + +That reminded Molly that they had ten cents yet. “Oh, Betsy,” she +proposed, “let’s take a nickel of our money for some pop-corn.” + +She was startled by Betsy’s fierce sudden clutch at their little purse +and by the quaver in her voice as she answered: “No, no, Molly. We’ve +got to save every cent of that. I’ve found out it costs thirty cents for +us both to go home to Hillsboro on the train. The last one goes at six +o’clock.” + +“We haven’t got but ten,” said Molly. + +Betsy looked at her silently for a moment and then burst out, “I’ll earn +the rest! I’ll earn it somehow! I’ll have to! There isn’t any other +way!” + +“All right,” said Molly quaintly, not seeing anything unusual in this. +“You can, if you want to. I’ll wait for you here.” + +“No, you won’t!” cried Betsy, who had quite enough of trying to meet +people in a crowd. “No, you won’t! You just follow me every minute! I +don’t want you out of my sight!” + +They began to move forward now, Betsy’s eyes wildly roving from one +place to another. How COULD a little girl earn money at a county fair! +She was horribly afraid to go up and speak to a stranger, and yet how +else could she begin? + +“Here, Molly, you wait here,” she said. “Don’t you budge till I come +back.” + +But alas! Molly had only a moment to wait that time, for the man who was +selling lemonade answered Betsy’s shy question with a stare and a curt, +“Lord, no! What could a young one like you do for me?” + +The little girls wandered on, Molly calm and expectant, confident in +Betsy; Betsy with a very dry mouth and a very gone feeling. They were +passing by a big shed-like building now, where a large sign proclaimed +that the Woodford Ladies’ Aid Society would serve a hot chicken dinner +for thirty-five cents. Of course the sign was not accurate, for at +half-past three, almost four, the chicken dinner had long ago been all +eaten and in place of the diners was a group of weary women moving +languidly about or standing saggingly by a great table piled with dirty +dishes. Betsy paused here, meditated a moment, and went in rapidly so +that her courage would not evaporate. + +The woman with gray hair looked down at her a little impatiently and +said, “Dinner’s all over.” + +“I didn’t come for dinner,” said Betsy, swallowing hard. “I came to see +if you wouldn’t hire me to wash your dishes. I’ll do them for +twenty-five cents.” + +The woman laughed, looked from little Betsy to the great pile of dishes, +and said, turning away, “Mercy, child, if you washed from now till +morning, you wouldn’t make a hole in what we’ve got to do.” + +Betsy heard her say to the other women, “Some young one wanting more +money for the side-shows.” + +Now, now was the moment to remember what Cousin Ann would have done. She +would certainly not have shaken all over with hurt feelings nor have +allowed the tears to come stingingly to her eyes. So Betsy sternly made +herself stop doing these things. And Cousin Ann wouldn’t have given way +to the dreadful sinking feeling of utter discouragement, but would have +gone right on to the next place. So, although Betsy felt like nothing so +much as crooking her elbow over her face and crying as hard as she could +cry, she stiffened her back, took Molly’s hand again, and stepped out, +heart-sick within but very steady (although rather pale) without. + +She and Molly walked along in the crowd again, Molly laughing and +pointing out the pranks and antics of the young people, who were feeling +livelier than ever as the afternoon wore on. Betsy looked at them grimly +with unseeing eyes. It was four o’clock. The last train for Hillsboro +left in two hours and she was no nearer having the price of the tickets. +She stopped for a moment to get her breath; for, although they were +walking slowly, she kept feeling breathless and choked. It occurred to +her that if ever a little girl had had a more horrible birthday she +never heard of one! + +“Oh, I wish I could, Dan!” said a young voice near her. “But honest! +Momma’d just eat me up alive if I left the booth for a minute!” + +Betsy turned quickly. A very pretty girl with yellow hair and blue eyes +(she looked as Molly might when she was grown-up) was leaning over the +edge of a little canvas-covered booth, the sign of which announced that +home-made doughnuts and soft drinks were for sale there. A young man, +very flushed and gay, was pulling at the girl’s blue gingham sleeve. +“Oh, come on, Annie. Just one turn! The floor’s elegant. You can keep an +eye on the booth from the hall! Nobody’s going to run away with the old +thing anyhow!” + +“Honest, I’d love to! But I got a great lot of dishes to wash, too! You +know Momma!” She looked longingly toward the open-air dancing floor, out +from which just then floated a burst of brazen music. + +“Oh, PLEASE!” said a small voice. “I’ll do it for twenty cents.” + +Betsy stood by the girl’s elbow, all quivering earnestness. + +“Do what, kiddie?” asked the girl in a good-natured surprise. + +“Everything!” said Betsy, compendiously. “Everything! Wash the dishes, +tend the booth; YOU can go dance! I’ll do it for twenty cents.” + +The eyes of the girl and the man met in high amusement. “My! Aren’t we +up and coming!” said the man. “You’re most as big as a pint-cup, aren’t +you?” he said to Betsy. + +The little girl flushed—she detested being laughed at—but she looked +straight into the laughing eyes. “I’m ten years old today,” she said, +“and I can wash dishes as well as anybody.” She spoke with dignity. + +The young man burst out into a great laugh. + +“Great kid, what!” he said to the girl, and then, “Say, Annie, why not? +Your mother won’t be here for an hour. The kid can keep folks from +walking off with the dope and ...” + +“I’ll do the dishes, too,” repeated Betsy, trying hard not to mind being +laughed at, and keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the tickets to +Hillsboro. + +“Well, by gosh,” said the young man, laughing. “Here’s our chance, +Annie, for fair! Come along!” + +The girl laughed, too, out of high spirits. “Wouldn’t Momma be crazy!” +she said hilariously. “But she’ll never know. Here, you cute kid, here’s +my apron.” She took off her long apron and tied it around Betsy’s neck. +“There’s the soap, there’s the table. You stack the dishes up on that +counter.” + +She was out of the little gate in the counter in a twinkling, just as +Molly, in answer to a beckoning gesture from Betsy, came in. “Hello, +there’s another one!” said the gay young man, gayer and gayer. “Hello, +button! What you going to do? I suppose when they try to crack the safe +you’ll run at them and bark and drive them away!” + +Molly opened her sweet, blue eyes very wide, not understanding a single +word. The girl laughed, swooped back, gave Molly a kiss, and +disappeared, running side by side with the young man toward the dance +hall. + +Betsy mounted on a soap box and began joyfully to wash the dishes. She +had never thought that ever in her life would she simply LOVE to wash +dishes beyond anything else! But it was so. Her relief was so great that +she could have kissed the coarse, thick plates and glasses as she washed +them. + +“It’s all right, Molly; it’s all right!” she quavered exultantly to +Molly over her shoulder. But as Molly had not (from the moment Betsy +took command) suspected that it was not all right, she only nodded and +asked if she might sit up on a barrel where she could watch the crowd go +by. + +“I guess you could. I don’t know why NOT,” said Betsy doubtfully. She +lifted her up and went back to her dishes. Never were dishes washed +better! + +“Two doughnuts, please,” said a man’s voice behind her. + +Oh, mercy, there was somebody come to buy! Whatever should she do? She +came forward intending to say that the owner of the booth was away and +she didn’t know anything about ... but the man laid down a nickel, took +two doughnuts, and turned away. Betsy gasped and looked at the home-made +sign stuck into the big pan of doughnuts. Sure enough, it read “2 for +5.” She put the nickel up on a shelf and went back to her dishwashing. +Selling things wasn’t so hard, she reflected. + +As her hunted feeling of desperation relaxed she began to find some fun +in her new situation, and when a woman with two little boys approached +she came forward to wait on her, elated, important. “Two for five,” she +said in a businesslike tone. The woman put down a dime, took up four +doughnuts, divided them between her sons, and departed. + +[Illustration: Never were dishes washed better!] + +“My!” said Molly, looking admiringly at Betsy’s coolness over this +transaction. Betsy went back to her dishes, stepping high. + +“Oh, Betsy, see! The pig! The big ox!” cried Molly now, looking from her +coign of vantage down the wide, grass-grown lane between the booths. + +Betsy craned her head around over her shoulder, continuing +conscientiously to wash and wipe the dishes. The prize stock was being +paraded around the Fair; the great prize ox, his shining horns tipped +with blue rosettes; the prize cows, with wreaths around their necks; the +prize horses, four or five of them as glossy as satin, curving their +bright, strong necks and stepping as though on eggs, their manes and +tails braided with bright ribbon; and then, “Oh, Betsy, LOOK at the +pig!” screamed Molly again—the smaller animals, the sheep, the calves, +the colts, and the pig, which waddled along with portly dignity. + +Betsy looked as well as she could over her shoulder ... and in years to +come she can shut her eyes and see again in every detail that rustic +procession under the golden, September light. + +But she looked anxiously at the clock. It was nearing five. Oh, suppose +the girl forgot and danced too long! + +“Two bottles of ginger ale and half a dozen doughnuts,” said a man with +a woman and three children. + +Betsy looked feverishly among the bottles ranged on the counter, +selected two marked ginger ale, and glared at their corrugated tin +stoppers. How DID you get them open? + +“Here’s your opener,” said the man, “if that’s what you’re looking for. +Here, you get the glasses and I’ll open the bottles. We’re in kind of a +hurry. Got to catch a train.” + +Well, they were not the only people who had to catch a train, Betsy +thought sadly. They drank in gulps and departed, cramming doughnuts into +their mouths. Betsy wished ardently that the girl would come back. She +was now almost sure that she had forgotten and would dance there till +nightfall. But there, there she came, running along, as light-footed +after an hour’s dancing as when she had left the booth. + +“Here you are, kid,” said the young man, producing a quarter. “We’ve had +the time of our young lives, thanks to you.” + +Betsy gave him back one of the nickels that remained to her, but he +refused it. + +“No, keep the change,” he said royally. “It was worth it.” + +“Then I’ll buy two doughnuts with my extra nickel,” said Betsy. + +“No, you won’t,” said the girl. “You’ll take all you want for nothing ... +Momma’ll never miss ’em. And what you sell here has got to be fresh +every day. Here, hold out your hands, both of you.” + +“Some people came and bought things,” said Betsy, happening to remember +as she and Molly turned away. “The money is on that shelf.” + +“Well, NOW!” said the girl, “if she didn’t take hold and sell things! +Say ...”—she ran after Betsy and gave her a hug—“you smart young one, +I wish’t I had a little sister just like you!” + +Molly and Betsy hurried along out of the gate into the main street of +the town and down to the station. Molly was eating doughnuts as she +went. They were both quite hungry by this time, but Betsy could not +think of eating till she had those tickets in her hand. + +She pushed her quarter and a nickel into the ticket-seller’s window and +said “Hillsboro” in as confident a tone as she could; but when the +precious bits of paper were pushed out at her and she actually held +them, her knees shook under her and she had to go and sit down on the +bench. + +“My! Aren’t these doughnuts good?” said Molly. “I never in my life had +ENOUGH doughnuts before!” + +Betsy drew a long breath and began rather languidly to eat one herself; +she felt, all of a sudden, very, very tired. + +She was tireder still when they got out of the train at Hillsboro +Station and started wearily up the road toward Putney Farm. Two miles +lay before them, two miles which they had often walked before, but never +after such a day as now lay back of them. Molly dragged her feet as she +walked and hung heavily on Betsy’s hand. Betsy plodded along, her head +hanging, her eyes all gritty with fatigue and sleepiness. A light buggy +spun round the turn of the road behind them, the single horse trotting +fast as though the driver were in a hurry, the wheels rattling smartly +on the hard road. The little girls drew out to one side and stood +waiting till the road should be free again. When he saw them the driver +pulled the horse back so quickly it stood almost straight up. He peered +at them through the twilight and then with a loud shout sprang over the +side of the buggy. + +It was Uncle Henry—oh, goody, it was Uncle Henry come to meet them! +They wouldn’t have to walk any further! + +But what was the matter with Uncle Henry? He ran up to them, exclaiming, +“Are ye all right? Are ye all right?” He stooped over and felt of them +desperately as though he expected them to be broken somewhere. And Betsy +could feel that his old hands were shaking, that he was trembling all +over. When she said, “Why, yes, Uncle Henry, we’re all right. We came +home on the cars,” Uncle Henry leaned up against the fence as though he +couldn’t stand up. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead and he +said—it didn’t seem as though it could be Uncle Henry talking, he +sounded so excited—“Well, well—well, by gosh! My! Well, by thunder! +Now! And so here ye are! And you’re all right! WELL!” + +He couldn’t seem to stop exclaiming, and you can’t imagine anything +stranger than an Uncle Henry who couldn’t stop exclaiming. + +After they all got into the buggy he quieted down a little and said, +“Thunderation! But we’ve had a scare! When the Wendells come back with +their cousins early this afternoon, they said you were coming with the +Vaughans. And then when you didn’t come and DIDN’T come, we telephoned +to the Vaughans, and they said they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of ye, and +didn’t even know you were TO the Fair at all! I tell you, your Aunt +Abigail and I had an awful turn! Ann and I hitched up quicker’n scat and +she put right out with Prince up toward Woodford and I took Jessie down +this way; thought maybe I’d get trace of ye somewhere here. Well, land!” +He wiped his forehead again. “Wa’n’t I glad to see you standin’ +there ... get along, Jess! I want to get the news to Abigail soon as I +can!” + +“Now tell me what in thunder DID happen to you!” + +Betsy began at the beginning and told straight through, interrupted at +first by indignant comments from Uncle Henry, who was outraged by the +Wendells’ loose wearing of their responsibility for the children. But as +she went on he quieted down to a closely attentive silence, interrupting +only to keep Jess at her top speed. + +Now that it was all safely over, Betsy thought her story quite an +interesting one, and she omitted no detail, although she wondered once +or twice if perhaps Uncle Henry were listening to her, he kept so still. +“And so I bought the tickets and we got home,” she ended, adding, “Oh, +Uncle Henry, you ought to have seen the prize pig! He was TOO funny!” + +They turned into the Putney yard now and saw Aunt Abigail’s bulky form +on the porch. + +“Got ’em, Abby! All right! No harm done!” shouted Uncle Henry. + +Aunt Abigail turned without a word and went back into the house. When +the little girls dragged their weary legs in they found her quietly +setting out some supper for them on the table, but she was wiping away +with her apron the joyful tears which ran down her cheeks, such white +cheeks! It seemed so strange to see rosy Aunt Abigail with a face like +paper. + +“Well, I’m glad to see ye,” she told them soberly. “Sit right down and +have some hot milk. I had some all ready.” + +The telephone rang, she went into the next room, and they heard her +saying, in an unsteady voice: “All right, Ann. They’re here. Your father +just brought them in. I haven’t had time to hear about what happened +yet. But they’re all right. You’d better come home.” + +“That’s your Cousin Ann telephoning from the Marshalls’.” + +She herself went and sat down heavily, and when Uncle Henry came in a +few minutes later she asked him in a rather weak voice for the ammonia +bottle. He rushed for it, got her a fan and a drink of cold water, and +hung over her anxiously till the color began to come back into her pale +face. “I know just how you feel, Mother,” he said sympathetically. “When +I saw ’em standin’ there by the roadside I felt as though somebody had +hit me a clip right in the pit of the stomach.” + +The little girls ate their supper in a tired daze, not paying any +attention to what the grown-ups were saying, until rapid hoofs clicked +on the stones outside and Cousin Ann came in quickly, her black eyes +snapping. + +“Now, for mercy’s sake, tell me what happened,” she said, adding hotly, +“and if I don’t give that Maria Wendell a piece of my mind!” + +Uncle Henry broke in: “_I_’M going to tell what happened. I WANT to do +it. You and Mother just listen, just sit right down and listen.” His +voice was shaking with feeling, and as he went on and told of Betsy’s +afternoon, her fright, her confusion, her forming the plan of coming +home on the train and of earning the money for the tickets, he made, for +once, no Putney pretense of casual coolness. His old eyes flashed fire +as he talked. + +Betsy, watching him, felt her heart swell and beat fast in incredulous +joy. Why, he was proud of her! She had done something to make the Putney +cousins proud of her! + +When Uncle Henry came to the part where she went on asking for +employment after one and then another refusal, Cousin Ann reached out +her long arms and quickly, almost roughly, gathered Betsy up on her lap, +holding her close as she listened. Betsy had never before sat on Cousin +Ann’s lap. + +And when Uncle Henry finished—he had not forgotten a single thing Betsy +had told him—and asked, “What do you think of THAT for a little girl +ten years old today?” Cousin Ann opened the flood-gates wide and burst +out, “I think I never heard of a child’s doing a smarter, grittier +thing ... AND I DON’T CARE IF SHE DOES HEAR ME SAY SO!” + +It was a great, a momentous, an historic moment! + +Betsy, enthroned on those strong knees, wondered if any little girl had +ever had such a beautiful birthday. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +“UNDERSTOOD AUNT FRANCES” + + +About a month, after Betsy’s birthday, one October day when the leaves +were all red and yellow, two very momentous events occurred, and, in a +manner of speaking, at the very same time. Betsy had noticed that her +kitten Eleanor (she still thought of her as a kitten, although she was +now a big, grown-up cat) spent very little time around the house. She +came into the kitchen two or three times a day, mewing loudly for milk +and food, but after eating very fast she always disappeared at once. +Betsy missed the purring, contented ball of fur on her lap in the long +evenings as she played checkers, or read aloud, or sewed, or played +guessing games. She felt rather hurt, too, that Eleanor paid her so +little attention, and several times she tried hard to make her stay, +trailing in front of her a spool tied to a string or rolling a worsted +ball across the floor. But Eleanor seemed to have lost all her taste for +the things she had liked so much. Invariably, the moment the door was +opened, she darted out and vanished. + +One afternoon Betsy ran out after her, determined to catch her and bring +her back. When the cat found she was being followed, she bounded along +in great leaps, constantly escaping from Betsy’s outstretched hand. They +came thus to the horse-barn, into the open door of which Eleanor whisked +like a little gray shadow, Betsy close behind. The cat flashed up the +steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the hay-loft. Betsy scrambled +rapidly up, too. It was dark up there, compared to the gorgeous-colored +October day outside, and for a moment she could not see Eleanor. Then +she made her out, a dim little shape, picking her way over the hay, and +she heard her talking. Yes, it was real talk, quite, quite different +from the loud, imperious “MIAUW!” with which Eleanor asked for her milk. +This was the softest, prettiest kind of conversation, all little murmurs +and chirps and sing-songs. Why, Betsy could almost understand it! She +COULD understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then, +breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-like +cries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward and +disappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over the +hay as fast as she could go. + +It was all silent now—the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped as +suddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purring +so loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud and +happy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she arched +her back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy’s +astounded, delighted eyes—no, she wasn’t dreaming—two dear little +kittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib on +his chest. + +Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy put +her fingers very softly on the gray one’s head and thrilled to feel the +warmth of the little living creature. “Oh, Eleanor!” she asked eagerly. +“CAN I pick one up?” She lifted the gray one gently and held it up to +her cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand. +She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into her +palm. “Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!” she said over +and over in a whisper. + +Eleanor did not stop purring, and she looked up with friendly, trusting +eyes as her little mistress made the acquaintance of her children, but +Betsy could feel somehow that Eleanor was anxious about her kitten, was +afraid that, although the little girl meant everything that was kind, +her great, clumsy, awkward human hands weren’t clever enough to hold a +baby-cat the proper way. “I don’t blame you a bit, Eleanor,” said Betsy. +“I should feel just so in your place. There! I won’t touch it again!” +She laid the kitten down carefully by its mother. Eleanor at once began +to wash its face very vigorously, knocking it over and over with her +strong tongue. “My!” said Betsy, laughing. “You’d scratch my eyes out, +if _I_ were as rough as that!” + +Eleanor didn’t seem to hear. Or rather she seemed to hear something +else. For she stopped short, her head lifted, her ears pricked up, +listening very hard to some distant sound. Then Betsy heard it, too, +somebody coming into the barn below, little, quick, uneven footsteps. It +must be little Molly, tagging along, as she always did. What fun to show +Molly the kittens! + +“Betsy!” called Molly from below. + +“Molly!” called Betsy from above. “Come up here quick! I’ve got +something up here.” + +There was a sound of scrambling, rapid feet on the rough stairs, and +Molly’s yellow curls appeared, shining in the dusk. “I’ve got a ...” she +began, but Betsy did not let her finish. + +“Come here, Molly, quick! QUICK!” she called, beckoning eagerly, as +though the kittens might evaporate into thin air if Molly didn’t get +there at once. Molly forgot what she was going to say, climbed madly up +the steep pile of hay, and in a moment was lying flat on her stomach +beside the little family in a spasm of delight that satisfied even Betsy +and Eleanor, both of them convinced that these were the finest kittens +the world had ever seen. + +“See, there are two,” said Betsy. “You can have one for your very own. +And I’ll let you choose. Which one do you like best?” + +She was hoping that Molly would not take the little all-gray one, +because she had fallen in love with that the minute she saw it. + +“Oh, THIS one with the white on his breast,” said Molly, without a +moment’s hesitation. “It’s LOTS the prettiest! Oh, Betsy! For my very +own?” + +Something white fell out of the folds of her skirt on the hay. “Oh, +yes,” she said indifferently. “A letter for you. Miss Ann told me to +bring it out here. She said she saw you streaking it for the barn.” + +It was a letter from Aunt Frances. Betsy opened it, one eye on Molly to +see that she did not hug her new darling too tightly, and began to read +it in the ray of dusty sunlight slanting in through a crack in the side +of the barn. She could do this easily, because Aunt Frances always made +her handwriting very large and round and clear, so that a little girl +could read it without half trying. + +And as she read, everything faded away from before her ... the barn, +Molly, the kittens ... she saw nothing but the words on the page. + +When she had read the letter through she got up quickly, oh ever so +quickly! and went away down the stairs. Molly hardly noticed she had +gone, so absorbing and delightful were the kittens. + +Betsy went out of the dusky barn into the rich, October splendor and saw +none of it. She went straight away from the house and the barn, straight +up into the hill-pasture toward her favorite place beside the brook, the +shady pool under the big maple-tree. At first she walked, but after a +while she ran, faster and faster, as though she could not get there soon +enough. Her head was down, and one arm was crooked over her face.... + +And do you know, I’m not going to follow her up there, nor let you go. +I’m afraid we would all cry if we saw what Betsy did under the big +maple-tree. And the very reason she ran away so fast was so that she +could be all by herself for a very hard hour, and fight it out, alone. + +So let us go back soberly to the orchard where the Putneys are, and wait +till Betsy comes walking listlessly in, her eyes red and her cheeks +pale. Cousin Ann was up in the top of a tree, a basket hung over her +shoulder half full of striped red Northern Spies; Uncle Henry was on a +ladder against another tree, filling a bag with the beautiful, shining, +yellow-green Pound Sweets, and Aunt Abigail was moving around, picking +up the parti-colored windfalls and putting them into barrels ready to go +to the cider-mill. + +Something about the way Betsy walked, and as she drew closer something +about the expression of her face, and oh! as she began to speak, +something about the tone of her voice, stopped all this cheerful +activity as though a bomb had gone off in their midst. + +“I’ve had a letter from Aunt Frances,” said Betsy, biting her lips, “and +she says she’s coming to take me away, back to them, tomorrow.” + +There was a big silence; Cousin Ann stood, perfectly motionless up in +her tree, staring down through the leaves at Betsy. Uncle Henry was +turned around on his ladder, one hand on an apple as though it had +frozen there, staring down at Betsy. Aunt Abigail leaned with both fat +hands on her barrel, staring hard at Betsy. Betsy was staring down at +her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes. The yellow, hazy +October sun sank slowly down toward the rim of Hemlock Mountain, and +sent long, golden shafts of light through the branches of the trees upon +this group of people, all so silent, so motionless. + +[Illustration: Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and +winking her eyes.] + +Betsy was the first to speak, and I’m very proud of her for what she +said. She said, loyally, “Dear Aunt Frances! She was always so sweet to +me! She always tried so hard to take care of me!” + +For that was what Betsy had found up by the brook under the big red +maple-tree. She had found there a certainty that, whatever else she did, +she must NOT hurt Aunt Frances’s feelings—dear, gentle, sweet Aunt +Frances, whose feelings were so easily hurt and who had given her so +many years of such anxious care. Something up there had told +her—perhaps the quiet blue shadow of Windward Mountain creeping slowly +over the pasture toward her, perhaps the silent glory of the great +red and gold tree, perhaps the singing murmur of the little +brook—perhaps all of them together had told her that now had come a +time when she must do more than what Cousin Ann would do—when she must +do what she herself knew was right. And that was to protect Aunt Frances +from hurt. + +When she spoke, out there in the orchard, she broke the spell of +silence. Cousin Ann climbed hastily down from her tree, with her basket +only partly filled. Uncle Henry got stiffly off his ladder, and Aunt +Abigail advanced through the grass. And they all said the same +thing—“Let me see that letter.” + +They read it there, looking over each other’s shoulders, with grave +faces. Then, still silently, they all turned and went back into the +house, leaving their forgotten bags and barrels and baskets out under +the trees. When they found themselves in the kitchen—“Well, it’s +suppertime, anyhow,” said Cousin Ann hastily, as if ashamed of losing +her composure, “or almost time. We might as well get it now.” + +“I’m a-going out to milk,” said Uncle Henry gruffly, although it was not +nearly his usual time. He took up the milk pails and marched out toward +the barn, stepping heavily, his head hanging. + +Shep woke up with a snort and, getting off the couch, gamboled clumsily +up to Betsy, wagging his tail and jumping up on her, ready for a frolic. +That was almost too much for Betsy! To think that after tomorrow she +would never see Shep again—nor Eleanor! Nor the kittens! She choked as +she bent over Shep and put her arms around his neck for a great hug. But +she mustn’t cry, she mustn’t hurt Aunt Frances’s feelings, or show that +she wasn’t glad to go back to her. That wouldn’t be fair, after all Aunt +Frances had done for her! + +That night she lay awake after she and Molly had gone to bed and Molly +was asleep. They had decided not to tell Molly until the last minute, so +she had dropped off peacefully, as usual. But poor Betsy’s eyes were +wide open. She saw a gleam of light under the door. It widened; the door +opened. Aunt Abigail stood there, in her night cap, mountainous in her +long white gown, a candle shining up into her serious old face. + +“You awake, Betsy?” she whispered, seeing the child’s dark eyes gleaming +at her over the covers. “I just—I just thought I’d look in to see if +you were all right.” She came to the edge of the bed and set the candle +down on the little stand. Betsy reached her arms up longingly and the +old woman stooped over her. Neither of them said a single word during +the long embrace which followed. Then Aunt Abigail straightened up +hastily, took her candle very quickly and softly, and heavily padded out +of the room. + +Betsy turned over and flung one arm over Molly—no Molly, either, after +tomorrow! + +She gulped hard and stared up at the ceiling, dimly white in the +starlight. A gleam of light shone under the door. It widened, and Uncle +Henry stood there, a candle in his hand, peering into the room. “You +awake, Betsy?” he said cautiously. + +“Yes. I’m awake, Uncle Henry.” + +The old man shuffled into the room. “I just got to thinking,” he said, +hesitating, “that maybe you’d like to take my watch with you. It’s kind +of handy to have a watch on the train. And I’d like real well for you to +have it.” + +He laid it down on the stand, his own cherished gold watch, that had +been given him when he was twenty-one. + +Betsy reached out and took his hard, gnarled old fist in a tight grip. +“Oh, Uncle Henry!” she began, and could not go on. + +“We’ll miss you, Betsy,” he said in an uncertain voice. “It’s +been ... it’s been real nice to have you here ...” + +And then he too snatched up his candle very quickly and almost ran out +of the room. + +Betsy turned over on her back. “No crying, now!” she told herself +fiercely. “No crying, now!” She clenched her hands together tightly and +set her teeth. + +Something moved in the room. Somebody leaned over her. It was Cousin +Ann, who didn’t make a sound, not one, but who took Betsy in her strong +arms and held her close and closer, till Betsy could feel the quick +pulse of the other’s heart beating all through her own body. Then she +was gone—as silently as she came. + +But somehow that great embrace had taken away all the burning tightness +from Betsy’s eyes and heart. She was very, very tired, and soon after +this she fell sound asleep, snuggled up close to Molly. + +In the morning, nobody spoke of last night at all. Breakfast was +prepared and eaten, and the team hitched up directly afterward. Betsy +and Uncle Henry were to drive to the station together to meet Aunt +Frances’s train. Betsy put on her new wine-colored cashmere that Cousin +Ann had made her, with the soft white collar of delicate old embroidery +that Aunt Abigail had given her out of one of the trunks in the attic. + +She and Uncle Henry said very little as they drove to the village, and +even less as they stood waiting together on the platform. Betsy slipped +her hand into his and he held it tight as the train whistled in the +distance and came slowly and laboriously puffing up to the station. + +Just one person got off at the little station, and that was Aunt +Frances, looking ever so dressed up and citified, with a fluffy +ostrich-feather boa and kid gloves and a white veil over her face and a +big blue one floating from her gay-flowered velvet hat. How pretty she +was! And how young—under the veil which hid so kindly all the little +lines in her sweet, thin face. And how excited and fluttery! Betsy had +forgotten how fluttery Aunt Frances was! She clasped Betsy to her, and +then started back crying—she must see to her suitcase—and then she +clasped Betsy to her again and shook hands with Uncle Henry, whose grim +old face looked about as cordial and welcoming as the sourest kind of +sour pickle, and she fluttered back and said she must have left her +umbrella on the train. “Oh, Conductor! Conductor! My umbrella—right in +my seat—a blue one with a crooked-over—oh, here it is in my hand! What +am I thinking of!” + +The conductor evidently thought he’d better get the train away as soon +as possible, for he now shouted, “All aboard!” to nobody at all, and +sprang back on the steps. The train went off, groaning over the steep +grade, and screaming out its usual echoing warning about the next road +crossing. + +Uncle Henry took Aunt Frances’s suitcase and plodded back to the surrey. +He got into the front seat and Aunt Frances and Betsy in the back; and +they started off. + +And now I want you to listen to every single word that was said on the +back seat, for it was a very, very important conversation, when Betsy’s +fate hung on the curl of an eyelash and the flicker of a voice, as fates +often do. + +Aunt Frances hugged Betsy again and again and exclaimed about her having +grown so big and tall and fat—she didn’t say brown too, although you +could see that she was thinking that, as she looked through her veil at +Betsy’s tanned face and down at the contrast between her own pretty, +white fingers and Betsy’s leather-colored, muscular little hands. She +exclaimed and exclaimed and kept on exclaiming! Betsy wondered if she +really always had been as fluttery as this. And then, all of a sudden it +came out, the great news, the reason for the extra flutteriness. + +Aunt Frances was going to be married! + +Yes! Think of it! Betsy fell back open-mouthed with astonishment. + +“Did Betsy think her Aunt Frances a silly old thing?” + +“Oh, Aunt Frances, NO!” cried Betsy fervently. “You look just as YOUNG, +and pretty! Lots younger than I remembered you!” + +Aunt Frances flushed with pleasure and went on, “You’ll love your old +Aunt Frances just as much, won’t you, when she’s Mrs. Plimpton!” + +Betsy put her arms around her and gave her a great hug. “I’ll always +love you, Aunt Frances!” she said. + +“You’ll love Mr. Plimpton, too. He’s so big and strong, and he just +loves to take care of people. He says that’s why he’s marrying me. Don’t +you wonder where we are going to live?” she asked, answering her own +question quickly. “We’re not going to live anywhere. Isn’t that a joke? +Mr. Plimpton’s business keeps him always moving around from one place to +another, never more than a month anywhere.” + +“What’ll Aunt Harriet do?” asked Betsy wonderingly. + +“Why, she’s ever and ever so much better,” said Aunt Frances happily. +“And her own sister, my Aunt Rachel, has come back from China, where +she’s been a missionary for ever so long, and the two old ladies are +going to keep house together out in California, in the dearest little +bungalow, all roses and honeysuckle. But YOU’RE going to be with me. +Won’t it be jolly fun, darling, to go traveling all about everywhere, +and see new places all the time!” + +Now those are the words Aunt Frances said, but something in her voice +and her face suggested a faint possibility to Betsy that maybe Aunt +Frances didn’t really think it would be such awfully jolly fun as her +words said. Her heart gave a big jump up, and she had to hold tight to +the arm of the surrey before she could ask, in a quiet voice, “But, Aunt +Frances, won’t I be awfully in your way, traveling around so?” + +Now, Aunt Frances had ears of her own, and though that was what Betsy’s +words said, what Aunt Frances heard was a suggestion that possibly Betsy +wasn’t as crazy to leave Putney Farm as she had supposed of course she +would be. + +They both stopped talking for a moment and peered at each other through +the thicket of words that held them apart. I told you this was a very +momentous conversation. One sure thing is that the people on the back +seat saw the inside of the surrey as they traveled along, and nothing +else. Red sumac and bronzed beech-trees waved their flags at them in +vain. They kept their eyes fixed on each other intently, each in an +agony of fear lest she hurt the other’s feelings. + +After a pause Aunt Frances came to herself with a start, and said, +affectionately putting her arm around Betsy, “Why, you darling, what +does Aunt Frances care about trouble if her own dear baby-girl is +happy?” + +And Betsy said, resolutely, “Oh, you know, Aunt Frances, I’d LOVE to be +with you!” She ventured one more step through the thicket. “But +honestly, Aunt Frances, WON’T it be a bother...?” + +Aunt Frances ventured another step to meet her, “But dear little girls +must be SOMEWHERE ...” + +And Betsy almost forgot her caution and burst out, “But I could stay +here! I know they would keep me!” + +Even Aunt Frances’s two veils could not hide the gleam of relief and +hope that came into her pretty, thin, sweet face. She summoned all her +courage and stepped out into the clearing in the middle of the thicket, +asking right out, boldly, “Why, do you like it here, Betsy? Would you +like to stay?” + +And Betsy—she never could remember afterward if she had been careful +enough not to shout too loudly and joyfully—Betsy cried out, “Oh, I +LOVE it here!” There they stood, face to face, looking at each other +with honest and very happy eyes. Aunt Frances threw her arm around Betsy +and asked again, “Are you SURE, dear?” and didn’t try to hide her +relief. And neither did Betsy. + +“I could visit you once in a while, when you are somewhere near here,” +suggested Betsy, beaming. + +“Oh, YES, I must have SOME of the time with my darling!” said Aunt +Frances. And this time there was nothing in their hearts that +contradicted their lips. + +They clung to each other in speechless satisfaction as Uncle Henry +guided the surrey up to the marble stepping-stone. Betsy jumped out +first, and while Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Frances out, she was +dashing up the walk like a crazy thing. She flung open the front door +and catapulted into Aunt Abigail just coming out. It was like flinging +herself into a feather-bed.... + +“Oh! Oh!” she gasped out. “Aunt Frances is going to be married. And +travel around all the time! And she doesn’t REALLY want me at all! Can’t +I stay here? Can’t I stay here?” + +Cousin Ann was right behind Aunt Abigail, and she heard this. She looked +over their shoulders toward Aunt Frances, who was approaching from +behind, and said, in her usual calm and collected voice: “How do you do, +Frances? Glad to see you, Frances. How well you’re looking! I hear you +are in for congratulations. Who’s the happy man?” + +Betsy was overcome with admiration for her coolness in being able to +talk so in such an exciting moment. She knew Aunt Abigail couldn’t have +done it, for she had sat down in a rocking-chair, and was holding Betsy +on her lap. The little girl could see her wrinkled old hand trembling on +the arm of the chair. + +“I hope that means,” continued Cousin Ann, going as usual straight to +the point, “that we can keep Betsy here with us.” + +“Oh, would you like to?” asked Aunt Frances, fluttering, as though the +idea had never occurred to her before that minute. “Would Elizabeth Ann +really LIKE to stay?” + +“Oh, I’d LIKE to, all right!” said Betsy, looking confidently up into +Aunt Abigail’s face. + +Aunt Abigail spoke now. She cleared her throat twice before she could +bring out a word. Then she said, “Why, yes, we’d kind of like to keep +her. We’ve sort of got used to having her around.” + +That’s what she SAID, but, as you have noticed before on this exciting +day, what people said didn’t matter as much as what they looked; and as +her old lips pronounced these words so quietly the corners of Aunt +Abigail’s mouth were twitching, and she was swallowing hard. She said, +impatiently, to Cousin Ann, “Hand me that handkerchief, Ann!” And as she +blew her nose, she said, “Oh, what an old fool I am!” + +Then, all of a sudden, it was as though a great, fresh breeze had blown +through the house. They all drew a long breath and began to talk loudly +and cheerfully about the weather and Aunt Frances’s trip and how Aunt +Harriet was and which room Aunt Frances was to have and would she leave +her wraps down in the hall or take them upstairs—and, in the midst of +this, Betsy, her heart ready to burst, dashed out of doors, followed by +Shep. She ran madly toward the barn. She did not know where she was +going. She only knew that she must run and jump and shout, or she would +explode. + +Shep ran and jumped because Betsy did. + +To these two wild creatures, careering through the air like bright-blown +autumn leaves, appeared little Molly in the barn door. + +“Oh, I’m going to stay! I’m going to stay!” screamed Betsy. + +But as Molly had not had any notion of the contrary, she only said, “Of +course, why not?” and went on to something really important, saying, in +a very much capitalized statement, “My kitten can WALK! It took THREE +STEPS just now.” + +After Aunt Frances got her wraps off, Betsy took her for a tour of +inspection. They went all over the house first, with special emphasis +laid on the living-room. “Isn’t this the loveliest place?” said Betsy, +fervently, looking about her at the white curtains, the bright flowers, +the southern sunshine, the bookcases, and the bright cooking utensils. +It was all full to the brim to her eyes with happiness, and she forgot +entirely that she had thought it a very poor, common kind of room when +she had first seen it. Nor did she notice that Aunt Frances showed no +enthusiasm over it now. + +She stopped for a few moments to wash some potatoes and put them into +the oven for dinner. Aunt Frances opened her eyes at this. “I always see +to the potatoes and the apples, the cooking of them, I mean,” explained +Betsy proudly. “I’ve just learned to make apple pie and brown betty.” + +Then down into the stone-floored milk-room, where Aunt Abigail was +working over butter, and where Betsy, swelling with pride, showed Aunt +Frances how deftly and smoothly she could manipulate the wooden paddle +and make rolls of butter that weighed within an ounce or two of a pound. + +“Mercy, child! Think of your being able to do such things!” said Aunt +Frances, more and more astonished. + +They went out of doors now, Shep bounding by their side. Betsy was +amazed to see that Aunt Frances drew back, quite nervously, whenever the +big dog frisked near her. Out in the barn Betsy had a disappointment. +Aunt Frances just balked absolutely at those ladder-like stairs—“Oh, I +COULDN’T! I couldn’t, dear. Do YOU go up there? Is it quite safe?” + +“Why, AUNT ABIGAIL went up there to see the kittens!” cried Betsy, on +the edge of exasperation. But her heart softened at the sight of Aunt +Frances’s evident distress of mind at the very idea of climbing into the +loft, and she brought the kittens down for inspection, Eleanor mewing +anxiously at the top of the stairs. + +On the way back to the house they had an adventure, a sort of adventure, +and it brought home to Betsy once for all how much she loved dear, sweet +Aunt Frances, and just what kind of love it was. + +As they crossed the barnyard the calf approached them playfully, leaping +stiff-legged into the air, and making a pretense of butting at them with +its hornless young head. + +Betsy and Shep often played with the calf in this way by the half-hour, +and she thought nothing of it now; hardly noticed it, in fact. + +But Aunt Frances gave a loud, piercing shriek, as though she were being +cut into pieces. “Help! HELP!” she screamed. “Betsy! Oh, Betsy!” + +She had turned as white as a sheet and could not take a single step +forward. “It’s nothing! It’s nothing!” said Betsy, rather impatiently. +“He’s just playing. We often play with him, Shep and I.” + +The calf came a little nearer, with lowered head. “GET away!” said Betsy +indifferently, kicking at him. + +At this hint of masterfulness on Betsy’s part, Aunt Frances cried out, +“Oh, yes, Betsy, DO make him go away! Do make him go away!” + +It came over Betsy that Aunt Frances was really frightened, yes, really; +and all at once her impatience disappeared, never to come back again. +She felt toward Aunt Frances just as she did toward little Molly, and +she acted accordingly. She stepped in front of Aunt Frances, picked up a +stick, and hit the calf a blow on the neck with it. He moved away, +startled and injured, looking at his playfellow with reproachful eyes. +But Betsy was relentless. Aunt Frances must not be frightened! + +“Here, Shep! Here, Shep!” she called loudly, and when the big dog came +bounding to her she pointed to the calf and said sternly, “Take him into +the barn! Drive him into the barn, sir!” + +Shep asked nothing better than this command, and charged forward, +barking furiously and leaping into the air as though he intended to eat +the calf up alive. The two swept across the barnyard and into the lower +regions of the barn. In a moment Shep reappeared, his tongue hanging +out, his tail wagging, his eyes glistening, very proud of himself, and +mounted guard at the door. + +Aunt Frances hurried along desperately through the gate of the barnyard. +As it fell to behind her she sank down on a rock, breathless, still pale +and agitated. Betsy threw her arms around her in a transport of +affection. She felt that she UNDERSTOOD Aunt Frances as nobody else +could, the dear, sweet, gentle, timid aunt! She took the thin, nervous +white fingers in her strong brown hands. “Oh, Aunt Frances, dear, +darling Aunt Frances!” she cried, “how I wish I could ALWAYS take care +of you.” + +The last of the red and gold leaves were slowly drifting to the ground +as Betsy and Uncle Henry drove back from the station after seeing Aunt +Frances off. They were not silent this time, as when they had gone to +meet her. They were talking cheerfully together, laying their plans for +the winter which was so near. “I must begin to bank the house tomorrow,” +mused Uncle Henry. “And those apples have got to go to the cider-mill, +right off. Don’t you want to ride over on top of them, Betsy, and see +’em made into cider?” + +“Oh, my, yes!” said Betsy, “that will be fine! And I must put away +Deborah’s summer clothes and get Cousin Ann to help me make some warm +ones, if I’m going to take her to school in cold weather.” + +As they drove into the yard, they saw Eleanor coming from the direction +of the barn with something big and heavy in her mouth. She held her head +as high as she could, but even so, her burden dragged on the ground, +bumping softly against the rough places on the path. “Look!” said Betsy. +“Just see that great rat Eleanor has caught!” + +Uncle Henry squinted his old eyes toward the cat for a moment and +laughed. “We’re not the only ones that are getting ready for winter,” he +remarked. + +Betsy did not know what he meant and climbed hastily over the wheel and +ran to see. As she approached Eleanor, the cat laid her burden down with +an air of relief and looked trustfully into her little mistress’s face. +Why, it was one of the kittens! Eleanor was bringing it to the house. +Oh, of course! they mustn’t stay out there in that cold hay-loft now the +cold weather was drawing near. Betsy picked up the little sprawling +thing, trying with weak legs to get around over the rough ground. She +carried it carefully toward the house, Eleanor walking sinuously by her +side and “talking” in little singing, purring MIAUWS to explain her +ideas of kitten-comfort. Betsy felt that she quite understood her. “Yes, +Eleanor, a nice little basket behind the stove with a warm piece of an +old blanket in it. Yes, I’ll fix it for you. It’ll be lovely to have the +whole family there. And I’ll bring the other one in for you.” + +But evidently Eleanor did not understand little girl talk as well as +Betsy understood cat-talk, for a little later, as Betsy turned from the +nest she was making in the corner behind the stove, Eleanor was missing; +and when she ran out toward the barn she met her again, her head +strained painfully back, dragging another fat, heavy kitten, who curled +his pink feet up as high as he could in a vain effort not to have them +knock against the stones. “Now, Eleanor,” said Betsy, a little put out, +“you don’t trust me enough! I was going to get it all right!” + +“Well,” said Aunt Abigail, as they came into the kitchen, “now you must +begin to teach them to drink.” + +“Goodness!” said Betsy, “don’t they know how to drink already?” + +“You try them and see,” said Aunt Abigail with a mysterious smile. + +So when Uncle Henry brought the pails full of fragrant, warm milk into +the house, Betsy poured out some in a saucer and put the kittens up to +it. She and Molly squatted down on their heels to watch, and before long +they were laughing so that they were rolling on the kitchen floor. At +first the kittens looked every way but at the milk, seeming to see +everything but what was under their noses. Then Graykin (that was +Betsy’s) absent-mindedly walked right through the saucer, emerging with +very wet feet and a very much aggrieved and astonished expression. Molly +screamed with laughter to see him shake his little pink toes and finally +sit down seriously to lick them clean. Then White-bib (Molly’s) put his +head down to the saucer. + +“There! Mine is smarter than yours!” said Molly. But White-bib went on +putting his head down, down, down, clear into the milk nearly up to his +eyes, although he looked very frightened and miserable. Then he jerked +it up quickly and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, such deliriously +funny little baby sneezes! He pawed and pawed at his little pink nose +with his little pink paw until Eleanor took pity on him and came to wash +him off. In the midst of this process she saw the milk, and left off to +lap it up eagerly; and in a jiffy she had drunk every drop and was +licking the saucer loudly with her raspy tongue. And that was the end of +the kittens’ first lesson. + +That evening, as they sat around the lamp, Eleanor came and got up in +Betsy’s lap just like old times. Betsy was playing checkers with Uncle +Henry and interrupted the game to welcome the cat back delightedly. But +Eleanor was uneasy, and kept stopping her toilet to prick up her ears +and look restlessly toward the basket, where the kittens lay curled so +closely together that they looked like one soft ball of gray fur. By and +by Eleanor jumped down heavily and went back to the basket. She stayed +there only a moment, standing over the kittens and licking them +convulsively, and then she came back and got up in Betsy’s lap again. + +“What ails that cat?” said Cousin Ann, noting this pacing and +restlessness. + +“Maybe she wants Betsy to hold her kittens, too,” suggested Aunt +Abigail. + +“Oh, I’d love to!” said Betsy, spreading out her knees to make her lap +bigger. + +“But I want my own White-bib myself!” said Molly, looking up from the +beads she was stringing. + +“Well, maybe Eleanor would let you settle it that way,” said Cousin Ann. + +The little girls ran over to the basket and brought back each her own +kitten. Eleanor watched them anxiously, but as soon as they sat down she +jumped up happily into Betsy’s lap and curled down close to little +Graykin. This time she was completely satisfied, and her loud purring +filled the room with a peaceable murmur. + +“There, now you’re fixed for the winter,” said Aunt Abigail. + +By and by, after Cousin Ann had popped some corn, old Shep got off the +couch and came to stand by Betsy’s knee to get an occasional handful. +Eleanor opened one eye, recognized a friend, and shut it sleepily. But +the little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monster +so near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up his +ridiculous little tail, opened his absurd, little pink mouth in a soft, +baby s-s-s-, and struck savagely at old Shep’s good-natured face with a +soft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pride +in the intrepid little morsel. She burst into laughter, but she picked +it up and held it lovingly close to her cheek. What fun it was going to +be to see those kittens grow up! + +Old Shep padded back softly to the couch, his toe-nails clicking on the +floor, hoisted himself heavily up, and went to sleep. The kitten +subsided into a ball again. Eleanor stirred and stretched in her sleep +and laid her head in utter trust on her little mistress’s hand. After +that Betsy moved the checkers only with her other hand. + +In the intervals of the game, while Uncle Henry was pondering over his +moves, the little girl looked down at her pets and listened absently to +the keen autumnal wind that swept around the old house, shaking the +shutters and rattling the windows. A stick of wood in the stove burned +in two and fell together with a soft, whispering sound. The lamp cast a +steady radiance on Uncle Henry bent seriously over the checker-board, on +Molly’s blooming, round cheeks and bright hair, on Aunt Abigail’s rosy, +cheerful, wrinkled old face, and on Cousin Ann’s quiet, clear, dark +eyes.... + +That room was full to the brim of something beautiful, and Betsy knew +what it was. Its name was Happiness. + + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY *** + +***** This file should be named 5347-0.txt or 5347-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5347/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Understood Betsy</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Dorothy Canfield</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 1, 2004 [eBook #5347]<br /> +[Most recently updated: January 20, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +<br />HTML version produced by Chuck Greif. +<br />Revised by Richard Tonsing.</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY ***</div> + + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="355" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<h1>UNDERSTOOD BETSY</h1> + +<p class="c">BY DOROTHY CANFIELD<br /><br /> +Author of “The Bent Twig,” etc.</p> + +<p class="c">ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br /> +ADA C. WILLIAMSON</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 359px;"> +<a id="front"></a> +<a href="images/front.jpg"> +<img src="images/front_sml.jpg" width="359" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one spectacle-glass. (Page 34)</span> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class='tableclass'> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a></td><td>Aunt Harriet Has a Cough</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a></td><td>Betsy Holds the Reins</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a></td><td>A Short Morning</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a></td><td>Betsy Goes to School</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a></td><td>What Grade is Betsy?</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a></td><td>If You Don’t Like Conversation in a Book Skip this Chapter!</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a></td><td>Elizabeth Ann Fails in an Examination</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a></td><td>Betsy Starts a Sewing Society</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a></td><td>The New Clothes Fail</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a></td><td>Betsy Has a Birthday</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tdright'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a></td><td>“Understood Aunt Frances”</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<ul style="list-style-type:none;text-indent:-1em;"> +<li><a href="#front">Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one spectacle-glass</a> <a href="#front">Frontispiece</a></li> + +<li><a href="#stood_up">Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#do_you_know">“Do you know,” said Aunt Abigail, “I think +it’s going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again”</a></li> + +<li><a href="#doing_hair">She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#asking_more">“Oh, he’s asking for more!” cried Elizabeth Ann</a></li> + +<li><a href="#shut_teeth">Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and started across</a></li> + +<li><a href="#whats_matter">“What’s the matter, Molly? What’s the matter?”</a></li> + +<li><a href="#old_doll">Betsy and Ellen and the old doll</a></li> + +<li><a href="#fallen_asleep">He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms</a></li> + +<li><a href="#dishes_washed">Never were dishes washed better!</a></li> + +<li><a href="#staring_down">Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes</a></li> +</ul> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> +AUNT HARRIET HAS A COUGH</h2> + +<p>When this story begins, Elizabeth Ann, who is the heroine of it, was a +little girl of nine, who lived with her Great-aunt Harriet in a +medium-sized city in a medium-sized State in the middle of this country; +and that’s all you need to know about the place, for it’s not the +important thing in the story; and anyhow you know all about it because +it was probably very much like the place you live in yourself.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann’s Great-aunt Harriet was a widow who was not very rich or +very poor, and she had one daughter, Frances, who gave piano lessons to +little girls. They kept a “girl” whose name was Grace and who had asthma +dreadfully and wasn’t very much of a “girl” at all, being nearer fifty +than forty. Aunt Harriet, who was very tender-hearted, kept her chiefly +because she couldn’t get any other place on account of her coughing so +you could hear her all over the house.</p> + +<p>So now you know the names of all the household. And this is how they +looked: Aunt Harriet was very small and thin and old, Grace was very +small and thin and middle-aged, Aunt Frances (for Elizabeth Ann called +her “Aunt,” although she was really, of course, a +first-cousin-once-removed) was small and thin and if the light wasn’t +too strong might be called young, and Elizabeth Ann was very small and +thin and little. And yet they all had plenty to eat. I wonder what was +the matter with them?</p> + +<p>It was certainly not because they were not good, for no womenkind in all +the world had kinder hearts than they. You have heard how Aunt Harriet +kept Grace (in spite of the fact that she was a very depressing person) +on account of her asthma; and when Elizabeth Ann’s father and mother +both died when she was a baby, although there were many other cousins +and uncles and aunts in the family, these two women fairly rushed upon +the little baby-orphan, taking her home and surrounding her henceforth +with the most loving devotion.</p> + +<p>They had said to themselves that it was their manifest duty to save the +dear little thing from the other relatives, who had no idea about how to +bring up a sensitive, impressionable child, and they were sure, from the +way Elizabeth Ann looked at six months, that she was going to be a +sensitive, impressionable child. It is possible also that they were a +little bored with their empty life in their rather forlorn, little brick +house in the medium-sized city, and that they welcomed the occupation +and new interests which a child would bring in.</p> + +<p>But they thought that they chiefly desired to save dear Edward’s child +from the other kin, especially from the Putney cousins, who had written +down from their Vermont farm that they would be glad to take the little +girl into their family. But “<i>anything</i> but the Putneys!” said Aunt +Harriet, a great many times. They were related only by marriage to her, +and she had her own opinion of them as a stiffnecked, cold-hearted, +undemonstrative, and hard set of New Englanders. “I boarded near them +one summer when you were a baby, Frances, and I shall never forget the +way they were treating some children visiting there! ... Oh, no, I don’t +mean they abused them or beat them ... but such lack of sympathy, such +perfect indifference to the sacred sensitiveness of child-life, such a +starving of the child-heart ... No, I shall never forget it! They had +chores to do ... as though they had been hired men!”</p> + +<p>Aunt Harriet never meant to say any of this when Elizabeth Ann could +hear, but the little girl’s ears were as sharp as little girls’ ears +always are, and long before she was nine she knew all about the opinion +Aunt Harriet had of the Putneys. She did not know, to be sure, what +“chores” were, but she took it confidently from Aunt Harriet’s voice +that they were something very, very dreadful.</p> + +<p>There was certainly neither coldness nor hardness in the way Aunt +Harriet and Aunt Frances treated Elizabeth Ann. They had really given +themselves up to the new responsibility, especially Aunt Frances, who +was very conscientious about everything. As soon as the baby came there +to live, Aunt Frances stopped reading novels and magazines, and re-read +one book after another which told her how to bring up children. And she +joined a Mothers’ Club which met once a week. And she took a +correspondence course in mothercraft from a school in Chicago which +teaches that business by mail. So you can see that by the time Elizabeth +Ann was nine years old Aunt Frances must have known all that anybody can +know about how to bring up children. And Elizabeth Ann got the benefit +of it all.</p> + +<p>She and her Aunt Frances were simply inseparable. Aunt Frances shared in +all Elizabeth Ann’s doings and even in all her thoughts. She was +especially anxious to share all the little girl’s thoughts, because she +felt that the trouble with most children is that they are not +understood, and she was determined that she would thoroughly understand +Elizabeth Ann down to the bottom of her little mind. Aunt Frances (down +in the bottom of her own mind) thought that her mother had never <i>really</i> +understood her, and she meant to do better by Elizabeth Ann. She also +loved the little girl with all her heart, and longed, above everything +in the world, to protect her from all harm and to keep her happy and +strong and well.</p> + +<p>And yet Elizabeth Ann was neither very strong nor well. And as to her +being happy, you can judge for yourself when you have read all this +story. She was very small for her age, with a rather pale face and big +dark eyes which had in them a frightened, wistful expression that went +to Aunt Frances’s tender heart and made her ache to take care of +Elizabeth Ann better and better.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances was afraid of a great many things herself, and she knew how +to sympathize with timidity. She was always quick to reassure the little +girl with all her might and main whenever there was anything to fear. +When they were out walking (Aunt Frances took her out for a walk up one +block and down another every single day, no matter how tired the music +lessons had made her), the aunt’s eyes were always on the alert to avoid +anything which might frighten Elizabeth Ann. If a big dog trotted by, +Aunt Frances always said, hastily: “There, there, dear! That’s a <i>nice</i> +doggie, I’m sure. I don’t believe he ever bites little girls. ... <i>mercy</i>! +Elizabeth Ann, don’t go near him! ... Here, darling, just get on the +other side of Aunt Frances if he scares you so” (by that time Elizabeth +Ann was always pretty well scared), “and perhaps we’d better just turn +this corner and walk in the other direction.” If by any chance the dog +went in that direction too, Aunt Frances became a prodigy of valiant +protection, putting the shivering little girl behind her, threatening +the animal with her umbrella, and saying in a trembling voice, “Go away, +sir! Go <i>away</i>!”</p> + +<p>Or if it thundered and lightened, Aunt Frances always dropped everything +she might be doing and held Elizabeth Ann tightly in her arms until it +was all over. And at night—Elizabeth Ann did not sleep very well—when +the little girl woke up screaming with a bad dream, it was always dear +Aunt Frances who came to her bedside, a warm wrapper over her nightgown +so that she need not hurry back to her own room, a candle lighting up +her tired, kind face. She always took the little girl into her thin arms +and held her close against her thin breast. “<i>Tell</i> Aunt Frances all about +your naughty dream, darling,” she would murmur, “so’s to get it off your +mind!”</p> + +<p>She had read in her books that you can tell a great deal about +children’s inner lives by analyzing their dreams, and besides, if she +did not urge Elizabeth Ann to tell it, she was afraid the sensitive, +nervous little thing would “lie awake and brood over it.” This was the +phrase she always used the next day to her mother when Aunt Harriet +exclaimed about her paleness and the dark rings under her eyes. So she +listened patiently while the little girl told her all about the fearful +dreams she had, the great dogs with huge red mouths that ran after her, +the Indians who scalped her, her schoolhouse on fire so that she had to +jump from a third-story window and was all broken to bits—once in a +while Elizabeth Ann got so interested in all this that she went on and +made up more awful things even than she had dreamed, and told long +stories which showed her to be a child of great imagination. But all +these dreams and continuations of dreams Aunt Frances wrote down the +first thing the next morning, and, with frequent references to a thick +book full of hard words, she tried her best to puzzle out from them +exactly what kind of little girl Elizabeth Ann really was.</p> + +<p>There was one dream, however, that even conscientious Aunt Frances never +tried to analyze, because it was too sad. Elizabeth Ann dreamed +sometimes that she was dead and lay in a little white coffin with white +roses over her. Oh, that made Aunt Frances cry, and so did Elizabeth +Ann. It was very touching. Then, after a long, long time of talk and +tears and sobs and hugs, the little girl would begin to get drowsy, and +Aunt Frances would rock her to sleep in her arms, and lay her down ever +so quietly, and slip away to try to get a little nap herself before it +was time to get up.</p> + +<p>At a quarter of nine every weekday morning Aunt Frances dropped whatever +else she was doing, took Elizabeth Ann’s little, thin, white hand +protectingly in hers, and led her through the busy streets to the big +brick school-building where the little girl had always gone to school. +It was four stories high, and when all the classes were in session there +were six hundred children under that one roof. You can imagine, perhaps, +the noise there was on the playground just before school! Elizabeth Ann +shrank from it with all her soul, and clung more tightly than ever to +Aunt Frances’s hand as she was led along through the crowded, shrieking +masses of children. Oh, how glad she was that she had Aunt Frances there +to take care of her, though as a matter of fact nobody noticed the +little thin girl at all, and her very own classmates would hardly have +known whether she came to school or not. Aunt Frances took her safely +through the ordeal of the playground, then up the long, broad stairs, +and pigeonholed her carefully in her own schoolroom. She was in the +third grade,—3A, you understand, which is almost the fourth.</p> + +<p>Then at noon Aunt Frances was waiting there, a patient, never-failing +figure, to walk home with her little charge; and in the afternoon the +same thing happened over again. On the way to and from school they +talked about what had happened in the class. Aunt Frances believed in +sympathizing with a child’s life, so she always asked about every little +thing, and remembered to inquire about the continuation of every +episode, and sympathized with all her heart over the failure in mental +arithmetic, and triumphed over Elizabeth Ann’s beating the Schmidt girl +in spelling, and was indignant over the teacher’s having pets. Sometimes +in telling over some very dreadful failure or disappointment Elizabeth +Ann would get so wrought up that she would cry. This always brought the +ready tears to Aunt Frances’s kind eyes, and with many soothing words +and nervous, tremulous caresses she tried to make life easier for poor +little Elizabeth Ann. The days when they had cried they could neither of +them eat much luncheon.</p> + +<p>After school and on Saturdays there was always the daily walk, and there +were lessons, all kinds of lessons—piano lessons of course, and +nature-study lessons out of an excellent book Aunt Frances had bought, +and painting lessons, and sewing lessons, and even a little French, +although Aunt Frances was not very sure about her own pronunciation. She +wanted to give the little girl every possible advantage, you see. They +were really inseparable. Elizabeth Ann once said to some ladies calling +on her aunts that whenever anything happened in school, the first thing +she thought of was what Aunt Frances would think of it.</p> + +<p>“Why is that?” they asked, looking at Aunt Frances, who was blushing +with pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Oh, she is so interested in my school work! And she <i>understands</i> me!” +said Elizabeth Ann, repeating the phrases she had heard so often.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances’s eyes filled with happy tears. She called Elizabeth Ann to +her and kissed her and gave her as big a hug as her thin arms could +manage. Elizabeth Ann was growing tall very fast. One of the visiting +ladies said that before long she would be as big as her auntie, and a +troublesome young lady. Aunt Frances said: “I have had her from the time +she was a little baby and there has scarcely been an hour she has been +out of my sight. I’ll always have her confidence. You’ll always tell +Aunt Frances <i>everything</i>, won’t you, darling?” Elizabeth Ann resolved to +do this always, even if, as now, she often had to invent things to tell.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances went on, to the callers: “But I do wish she weren’t so thin +and pale and nervous. I suppose it is the exciting modern life that is +so bad for children. I try to see that she has plenty of fresh air. I go +out with her for a walk every single day. But we have taken all the +walks around here so often that we’re rather tired of them. It’s often +hard to know how to get her out enough. I think I’ll have to get the +doctor to come and see her and perhaps give her a tonic.” To Elizabeth +Ann she added, hastily: “Now don’t go getting notions in your head, +darling. Aunt Frances doesn’t think there’s anything <i>very</i> much the +matter with you. You’ll be all right again soon if you just take the +doctor’s medicine nicely. Aunt Frances will take care of her precious +little girl. <i>She</i>’ll make the bad sickness go away.” Elizabeth Ann, who +had not known before that she was sick, had a picture of herself lying +in the little white coffin, all covered over with white. ... In a few +minutes Aunt Frances was obliged to excuse herself from her callers and +devote herself entirely to taking care of Elizabeth Ann.</p> + +<p>So one day, after this had happened several times, Aunt Frances really +did send for the doctor, who came briskly in, just as Elizabeth Ann had +always seen him, with his little square black bag smelling of leather, +his sharp eyes, and the air of bored impatience which he always wore in +that house. Elizabeth Ann was terribly afraid to see him, for she felt +in her bones he would say she had galloping consumption and would die +before the leaves cast a shadow. This was a phrase she had picked up +from Grace, whose conversation, perhaps on account of her asthma, was +full of references to early graves and quick declines.</p> + +<p>And yet—did you ever hear of such a case before?—although Elizabeth +Ann when she first stood up before the doctor had been quaking with fear +lest he discover some deadly disease in her, she was very much hurt +indeed when, after thumping her and looking at her lower eyelid inside +out, and listening to her breathing, he pushed her away with a little +jerk and said: “There’s nothing in the world the matter with that child. +She’s as sound as a nut! What she needs is ...”—he looked for a moment +at Aunt Frances’s thin, anxious face, with the eyebrows drawn together +in a knot of conscientiousness, and then he looked at Aunt Harriet’s +thin, anxious face with the eyebrows drawn up that very same way, and +then he glanced at Grace’s thin, anxious face peering from the door +waiting for his verdict—and then he drew a long breath, shut his lips +and his little black case very tightly, and did not go on to say what it +was that Elizabeth Ann needed.</p> + +<p>Of course Aunt Frances didn’t let him off as easily as that, you may be +sure. She fluttered around him as he tried to go, and she said all sorts +of fluttery things to him, like “But, Doctor, she hasn’t gained a pound +in three months ... and her sleep ... and her appetite ... and her +nerves ...”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<a id="stood_up"></a> +<a href="images/stood_up.jpg"> +<img src="images/stood_up_sml.jpg" width="386" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.</span> +</div> + +<p>The doctor said back to her, as he put on his hat, all the things +doctors always say under such conditions: “More beefsteak ... plenty of +fresh air ... more sleep ... <i>She</i>’ll be all right ...” but his voice did not +sound as though he thought what he was saying amounted to much. Nor did +Elizabeth Ann. She had hoped for some spectacular red pills to be taken +every half-hour, like those Grace’s doctor gave her whenever she felt +low in her mind.</p> + +<p>And just then something happened which changed Elizabeth Ann’s life +forever and ever. It was a very small thing, too. Aunt Harriet coughed. +Elizabeth Ann did not think it at all a bad-sounding cough in comparison +with Grace’s hollow whoop; Aunt Harriet had been coughing like that ever +since the cold weather set in, for three or four months now, and nobody +had thought anything of it, because they were all so much occupied in +taking care of the sensitive, nervous little girl who needed so much +care.</p> + +<p>And yet, at the sound of that little discreet cough behind Aunt +Harriet’s hand, the doctor whirled around and fixed his sharp eyes on +her, with all the bored, impatient look gone, the first time Elizabeth +Ann had ever seen him look interested. “What’s that? What’s that?” he +said, going over quickly to Aunt Harriet. He snatched out of his little +bag a shiny thing with two rubber tubes attached, and he put the ends of +the tubes in his ears and the shiny thing up against Aunt Harriet, who +was saying, “It’s nothing, Doctor ... a little teasing cough I’ve had this +winter. And I meant to tell you, too, but I forgot it, that that sore +spot on my lungs doesn’t go away as it ought to.”</p> + +<p>The doctor motioned her very impolitely to stop talking, and listened +very hard through his little tubes. Then he turned around and looked at +Aunt Frances as though he were angry at her. He said, “Take the child +away and then come back here yourself.”</p> + +<p>And that was almost all that Elizabeth Ann ever knew of the forces which +swept her away from the life which had always gone on, revolving about +her small person, exactly the same ever since she could remember.</p> + +<p>You have heard so much about tears in the account of Elizabeth Ann’s +life so far that I won’t tell you much about the few days which +followed, as the family talked over and hurriedly prepared to obey the +doctor’s verdict, which was that Aunt Harriet was very, very sick and +must go away at once to a warm climate, and Aunt Frances must go, too, +but not Elizabeth Ann, for Aunt Frances would need to give all her time +to taking care of Aunt Harriet. And anyhow the doctor didn’t think it +best, either for Aunt Harriet or for Elizabeth Ann, to have them in the +same house.</p> + +<p>Grace couldn’t go of course, but to everybody’s surprise she said she +didn’t mind, because she had a bachelor brother, who kept a grocery +store, who had been wanting her for years to go and keep house for him. +She said she had stayed on just out of conscientiousness because she +knew Aunt Harriet couldn’t get along without her! And if you notice, +that’s the way things often happen to very, very conscientious people.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann, however, had no grocer brother. She had, it is true, a +great many relatives, and of course it was settled she should go to some +of them till Aunt Frances could take her back. For the time being, just +now, while everything was so distracted and confused, she was to go to +stay with the Lathrop cousins, who lived in the same city, although it +was very evident that the Lathrops were not perfectly crazy with delight +over the prospect.</p> + +<p>Still, something had to be done at once, and Aunt Frances was so frantic +with the packing up, and the moving men coming to take the furniture to +storage, and her anxiety over her mother—she had switched to Aunt +Harriet, you see, all the conscientiousness she had lavished on +Elizabeth Ann—nothing much could be extracted from her about Elizabeth +Ann. “Just keep her for the present, Molly!” she said to Cousin Molly +Lathrop. “I’ll do something soon. I’ll write you. I’ll make another +arrangement ... but just <i>now</i>....”</p> + +<p>Her voice was quavering on the edge of tears, and Cousin Molly Lathrop, +who hated scenes, said hastily, “Yes, oh, yes, of course. For the +present ...” and went away, thinking that she didn’t see why she should +have <i>all</i> the disagreeable things to do. When she had her husband’s +tyrannical old mother to take care of, wasn’t that enough, without +adding to the household such a nervous, spoiled, morbid young one as +Elizabeth Ann!</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann did not of course for a moment dream that Cousin Molly was +thinking any such things about her, but she could not help seeing that +Cousin Molly was not any too enthusiastic about taking her in; and she +was already feeling terribly forlorn about the sudden, unexpected change +in Aunt Frances, who had been <i>so</i> wrapped up in her and now was just as +much wrapped up in Aunt Harriet. Do you know, I am sorry for Elizabeth +Ann, and, what’s more, I have been ever since this story began.</p> + +<p>Well, since I promised you that I was not going to tell about more +tears, I won’t say a single word about the day when the two aunts went +away on the train, for there is nothing much but tears to tell about, +except perhaps an absent look in Aunt Frances’s eyes which hurt the +little girl’s feelings dreadfully.</p> + +<p>And then Cousin Molly took the hand of the sobbing little girl and led +her back to the Lathrop house. But if you think you are now going to +hear about the Lathrops, you are quite mistaken, for just at this moment +old Mrs. Lathrop took a hand in the matter. She was Cousin Molly’s +husband’s mother, and, of course, no relation at all to Elizabeth Ann, +and so was less enthusiastic than anybody else. All that Elizabeth Ann +ever saw of this old lady, who now turned the current of her life again, +was her head, sticking out of a second-story window; and that’s all that +you need to know about her, either. It was a very much agitated old +head, and it bobbed and shook with the intensity with which the +imperative old voice called upon Cousin Molly and Elizabeth Ann to stop +right there where they were on the front walk.</p> + +<p>“The doctor says that what’s the matter with Bridget is scarlet fever, +and we’ve all got to be quarantined. There’s no earthly sense bringing +that child in to be sick and have it, and be nursed, and make the +quarantine twice as long!”</p> + +<p>“But, Mother!” called Cousin Molly, “I can’t leave the child in the +middle of the street!”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was actually glad to hear her say that, because she was +feeling so awfully unwanted, which is, if you think of it, not a very +cheerful feeling for a little girl who has been the hub round which a +whole household was revolving.</p> + +<p>“You don’t <i>have</i> to!” shouted old Mrs. Lathrop out of her second-story +window. Although she did not add “You gump!” aloud, you could feel she +was meaning just that. “You don’t have to! You can just send her to the +Putney cousins. All nonsense about her not going there in the first +place. They invited her the minute they heard of Harriet’s being so bad. +They’re the natural ones to take her in. Abigail is her mother’s own +aunt, and Ann is her own first-cousin-once-removed ... just as close as +Harriet and Frances are, and <i>much</i> closer than you! And on a farm and +all ... just the place for her!”</p> + +<p>“But how under the sun, Mother!” shouted Cousin Molly back, “can I <i>get</i> +her to the Putneys’? You can’t send a child of nine a thousand miles +without ...”</p> + +<p>Old Mrs. Lathrop looked again as though she were saying “You gump!” and +said aloud, “Why, there’s James, going to New York on business in a few +days anyhow. He can just go now, and take her along and put her on the +right train at Albany. If he wires from here, they’ll meet her in +Hillsboro.”</p> + +<p>And that was just what happened. Perhaps you may have guessed by this +time that when old Mrs. Lathrop issued orders they were usually obeyed. +As to who the Bridget was who had the scarlet fever, I know no more than +you. I take it, from the name, she was the cook. Unless, indeed, old +Mrs. Lathrop made her up for the occasion, which I think she would have +been quite capable of doing, don’t you?</p> + +<p>At any rate, with no more ifs or ands, Elizabeth Ann’s satchel was +packed, and Cousin James Lathrop’s satchel was packed, and the two set +off together, the big, portly, middle-aged man quite as much afraid of +his mother as Elizabeth Ann was. But he was going to New York, and it is +conceivable that he thought once or twice on the trip that there were +good times in New York as well as business engagements, whereas poor +Elizabeth Ann was being sent straight to the one place in the world +where there were no good times at all. Aunt Harriet had said so, ever so +many times. Poor Elizabeth Ann!</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> +BETSY HOLDS THE REINS</h2> + +<p>You can imagine, perhaps, the dreadful terror of Elizabeth Ann as the +train carried her along toward Vermont and the horrible Putney Farm! It +had happened so quickly—her satchel packed, the telegram sent, the +train caught—that she had not had time to get her wits together, assert +herself, and say that she would <i>not</i> go there! Besides, she had a sinking +notion that perhaps they wouldn’t pay any attention to her if she did. +The world had come to an end now that Aunt Frances wasn’t there to take +care of her! Even in the most familiar air she could only half breathe +without Aunt Frances! And now she was not even being taken to the Putney +Farm! She was being sent!</p> + +<p>She shrank together in her seat, more and more frightened as the end of +her journey came nearer, and looked out dismally at the winter +landscape, thinking it hideous with its brown bare fields, its brown +bare trees, and the quick-running little streams hurrying along, swollen +with the January thaw which had taken all the snow from the hills. She +had heard her elders say about her so many times that she could not +stand the cold, that she shivered at the very thought of cold weather, +and certainly nothing could look colder than that bleak country into +which the train was now slowly making its way.</p> + +<p>The engine puffed and puffed with great laboring breaths that shook +Elizabeth Ann’s diaphragm up and down, but the train moved more and more +slowly. Elizabeth Ann could feel under her feet how the floor of the car +was tipped up as it crept along the steep incline. “Pretty stiff grade +here?” said a passenger to the conductor.</p> + +<p>“You bet!” he assented. “But Hillsboro is the next station and that’s at +the top of the hill. We go down after that to Rutland.” He turned to +Elizabeth Ann—“Say, little girl, didn’t your uncle say you were to get +off at Hillsboro? You’d better be getting your things together.”</p> + +<p>Poor Elizabeth Ann’s knees knocked against each other with fear of the +strange faces she was to encounter, and when the conductor came to help +her get off, he had to carry the white, trembling child as well as her +satchel. But there was only one strange face there,—not another soul in +sight at the little wooden station. A grim-faced old man in a fur cap +and heavy coat stood by a lumber wagon.</p> + +<p>“This is her, Mr. Putney,” said the conductor, touching his cap, and +went back to the train, which went away shrieking for a nearby crossing +and setting the echoes ringing from one mountain to another.</p> + +<p>There was Elizabeth Ann alone with her much-feared Great-uncle Henry. He +nodded to her, and drew out from the bottom of the wagon a warm, large +cape, which he slipped over her shoulders. “The women folks were afraid +you’d git cold drivin’,” he explained. He then lifted her high to the +seat, tossed her satchel into the wagon, climbed up himself, and clucked +to his horses. Elizabeth Ann had always before thought it an essential +part of railway journeys to be much kissed at the end and asked a great +many times how you had “stood the trip.”</p> + +<p>She sat very still on the high lumber seat, feeling very forlorn and +neglected. Her feet dangled high above the floor of the wagon. She felt +herself to be in the most dangerous place she had ever dreamed of in her +worst dreams. Oh, why wasn’t Aunt Frances there to take care of her! It +was just like one of her bad dreams—yes, it was horrible! She would +fall, she would roll under the wheels and be crushed to ... She looked up +at Uncle Henry with the wild, strained eyes of nervous terror which +always brought Aunt Frances to her in a rush to “hear all about it,” to +sympathize, to reassure.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry looked down at her soberly, his hard, weather-beaten old +face quite unmoved. “Here, you drive, will you, for a piece?” he said +briefly, putting the reins into her hands, hooking his spectacles over +his ears, and drawing out a stubby pencil and a bit of paper. “I’ve got +some figgering to do. You pull on the left-hand rein to make ’em go to +the left and t’other way for t’other way, though ’tain’t likely we’ll +meet any teams.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had been so near one of her wild screams of terror that +now, in spite of her instant absorbed interest in the reins, she gave a +queer little yelp. She was all ready with the explanation, her +conversations with Aunt Frances having made her very fluent in +explanations of her own emotions. She would tell Uncle Henry about how +scared she had been, and how she had just been about to scream and +couldn’t keep back that one little ... But Uncle Henry seemed not to have +heard her little howl, or, if he had, didn’t think it worth +conversation, for he ... oh, the horses were <i>certainly</i> going to one side! +She hastily decided which was her right hand (she had never been forced +to know it so quickly before) and pulled furiously on that rein. The +horses turned their hanging heads a little, and, miraculously, there +they were in the middle of the road again.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann drew a long breath of relief and pride, and looked to +Uncle Henry for praise. But he was busily setting down figures as though +he were getting his ’rithmetic lesson for the next day and had not +noticed ... Oh, there they were going to the left again! This time, in her +flurry, she made a mistake about which hand was which and pulled wildly +on the left line! The horses docilely walked off the road into a shallow +ditch, the wagon tilted ... help! Why didn’t Uncle Henry help! Uncle Henry +continued intently figuring on the back of his envelope.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann, the perspiration starting out on her forehead, pulled on +the other line. The horses turned back up the little slope, the wheel +grated sickeningly against the wagonbox—she was <i>sure</i> they would tip +over! But there! somehow there they were in the road, safe and sound, +with Uncle Henry adding up a column of figures. If he only knew, thought +the little girl, if he only <i>knew</i> the danger he had been in, and how he +had been saved...! But she must think of some way to remember, for sure, +which her right hand was, and avoid that hideous mistake again.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly something inside Elizabeth Ann’s head stirred and +moved. It came to her, like a clap, that she needn’t know which was +right or left at all. If she just pulled the way she wanted them to +go—the horses would never know whether it was the right or the left +rein!</p> + +<p>It is possible that what stirred inside her head at that moment was her +brain, waking up. She was nine years old, and she was in the third A +grade at school, but that was the first time she had ever had a whole +thought of her very own. At home, Aunt Frances had always known exactly +what she was doing, and had helped her over the hard places before she +even knew they were there; and at school her teachers had been carefully +trained to think faster than the scholars. Somebody had always been +explaining things to Elizabeth Ann so industriously that she had never +found out a single thing for herself before. This was a very small +discovery, but an original one. Elizabeth Ann was as excited about it as +a mother-bird over the first egg that hatches.</p> + +<p>She forgot how afraid she was of Uncle Henry, and poured out to him her +discovery. “It’s not right or left that matters!” she ended +triumphantly; “it’s which way you want to go!” Uncle Henry looked at her +attentively as she talked, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one +spectacle-glass. When she finished—“Well, now, that’s so,” he admitted, +and returned to his arithmetic.</p> + +<p>It was a short remark, shorter than any Elizabeth Ann had ever heard +before. Aunt Frances and her teachers always explained matters at +length. But it had a weighty, satisfying ring to it. The little girl +felt the importance of having her statement recognized. She turned back +to her driving.</p> + +<p>The slow, heavy plow horses had stopped during her talk with Uncle +Henry. They stood as still now as though their feet had grown to the +road. Elizabeth Ann looked up at the old man for instructions. But he +was deep in his figures. She had been taught never to interrupt people, +so she sat still and waited for him to tell her what to do.</p> + +<p>But, although they were driving in the midst of a winter thaw, it was a +pretty cold day, with an icy wind blowing down the back of her neck. The +early winter twilight was beginning to fall, and she felt rather empty. +She grew very tired of waiting, and remembered how the grocer’s boy at +home had started his horse. Then, summoning all her courage, with an +apprehensive glance at Uncle Henry’s arithmetical silence, she slapped +the reins up and down on the horses’ backs and made the best imitation +she could of the grocer’s boy’s cluck. The horses lifted their heads, +they leaned forward, they put one foot before the other ... they were off! +The color rose hot on Elizabeth Ann’s happy face. If she had started a +big red automobile she would not have been prouder. For it was the first +thing she had ever done all herself ... every bit ... every smitch! She had +thought of it and she had done it. And it had worked!</p> + +<p>Now for what seemed to her a long, long time she drove, drove so hard +she could think of nothing else. She guided the horses around stones, +she cheered them through freezing mud-puddles of melted snow, she kept +them in the anxiously exact middle of the road. She was quite astonished +when Uncle Henry put his pencil and paper away, took the reins from her +hands, and drove into a yard, on one side of which was a little low +white house and on the other a big red barn. He did not say a word, but +she guessed that this was Putney Farm.</p> + +<p>Two women in gingham dresses and white aprons came out of the house. One +was old and one might be called young, just like Aunt Harriet and Aunt +Frances. But they looked very different from those aunts. The +dark-haired one was very tall and strong-looking, and the white-haired +one was very rosy and fat. They both looked up at the little, thin, +white-faced girl on the high seat, and smiled. “Well, Father, you got +her, I see,” said the brown-haired one. She stepped up to the wagon and +held up her arms to the child. “Come on, Betsy, and get some supper,” +she said, as though Elizabeth Ann had lived there all her life and had +just driven into town and back.</p> + +<p>And that was the arrival of Elizabeth Ann at Putney Farm.</p> + +<p>The brown-haired one took a long, strong step or two and swung her up on +the porch. “You take her in, Mother,” she said. “I’ll help Father +unhitch.”</p> + +<p>The fat, rosy, white-haired one took Elizabeth Ann’s skinny, cold little +hand in her soft warm fat one, and led her along to the open kitchen +door. “I’m your Aunt Abigail,” she said. “Your mother’s aunt, you know. +And that’s your Cousin Ann that lifted you down, and it was your Uncle +Henry that brought you out from town.” She shut the door and went on, “I +don’t know if your Aunt Harriet ever happened to tell you about us, and +so ...”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann interrupted her hastily, the recollection of all Aunt +Harriet’s remarks vividly before her. “Oh yes, oh yes!” she said. “She +always talked about you. She talked about you a lot, she ...” The little +girl stopped short and bit her lip.</p> + +<p>If Aunt Abigail guessed from the expression on Elizabeth Ann’s face what +kind of talking Aunt Harriet’s had been, she showed it only by a +deepening of the wrinkles all around her eyes. She said, gravely: “Well, +that’s a good thing. You know all about us then.” She turned to the +stove and took out of the oven a pan of hot baked beans, very brown and +crispy on top (Elizabeth Ann detested beans), and said, over her +shoulder, “Take your things off, Betsy, and hang ’em on that lowest hook +back of the door. That’s <i>your</i> hook.”</p> + +<p>The little girl fumbled forlornly with the fastenings of her cape and +the buttons of her coat. At home, Aunt Frances or Grace had always taken +off her wraps and put them away for her. When, very sorry for herself, +she turned away from the hook, Aunt Abigail said: “Now you must be cold. +Pull a chair right up here by the stove.” She was stepping around +quickly as she put supper on the table. The floor shook under her. She +was one of the fattest people Elizabeth Ann had ever seen. After living +with Aunt Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace the little girl could +scarcely believe her eyes. She stared and stared.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail seemed not to notice this. Indeed, she seemed for the +moment to have forgotten all about the newcomer. Elizabeth Ann sat on +the wooden chair, her feet hanging (she had been taught that it was not +manners to put her feet on the rungs), looking about her with miserable, +homesick eyes. What an ugly, low-ceilinged room, with only a couple of +horrid kerosene lamps for light; and they didn’t keep any girl, +evidently; and they were going to eat right in the kitchen like poor +people; and nobody spoke to her or looked at her or asked her how she +had “stood the trip”; and here she was, millions of miles away from Aunt +Frances, without anybody to take care of her. She began to feel the +tight place in her throat which, by thinking about hard, she could +always turn into tears, and presently her eyes began to water.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was not looking at her at all, but she now stopped short in +one of her rushes to the table, set down the butter-plate she was +carrying, and said “There!” as though she had forgotten something. She +stooped—it was perfectly amazing how spry she was—and pulled out from +under the stove a half-grown kitten, very sleepy, yawning and +stretching, and blinking its eyes. “There, Betsy!” said Aunt Abigail, +putting the little yellow and white ball into the child’s lap. “There is +one of old Whitey’s kittens that didn’t get given away last summer, and +she pesters the life out of me. I’ve got so much to do. When I heard you +were coming, I thought maybe you would take care of her for me. If you +want to, enough to bother to feed her and all, you can have her for your +own.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann bent her thin face over the warm, furry, friendly little +animal. She could not speak. She had always wanted a kitten, but Aunt +Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace had always been sure that cats +brought diphtheria and tonsilitis and all sorts of dreadful diseases to +delicate little girls. She was afraid to move for fear the little thing +would jump down and run away, but as she bent cautiously toward it the +necktie of her middy blouse fell forward and the kitten in the middle of +a yawn struck swiftly at it with a soft paw. Then, still too sleepy to +play, it turned its head and began to lick Elizabeth Ann’s hand with a +rough little tongue. Perhaps you can imagine how thrilled the little +girl was at this!</p> + +<p>She held her hand perfectly still until the kitten stopped and began +suddenly washing its own face, and then she put her hands under it and +very awkwardly lifted it up, burying her face in the soft fur. The +kitten yawned again, and from the pink-lined mouth came a fresh, milky +breath. “Oh!” said Elizabeth Ann under her breath. “Oh, you <i>darling</i>!” +The kitten looked at her with bored, speculative eyes.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann looked up now at Aunt Abigail and said, “What is its name, +please?” But the old woman was busy turning over a griddle full of +pancakes and did not hear. On the train Elizabeth Ann had resolved not +to call these hateful relatives by the same name she had for dear Aunt +Frances, but she now forgot that resolution and said, again, “Oh, Aunt +Abigail, what is its name?”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail faced her blankly. “Name?” she asked. “Whose ... oh, the +kitten’s? Goodness, child, I stopped racking my brain for kitten names +sixty years ago. Name it yourself. It’s yours.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had already named it in her own mind, the name she had +always thought she <i>would</i> call a kitten by, if she ever had one. It was +Eleanor, the prettiest name she knew.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail pushed a pitcher toward her. “There’s the cat’s saucer +under the sink. Don’t you want to give it some milk?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann got down from her chair, poured some milk into the saucer, +and called: “Here, Eleanor! Here, Eleanor!”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail looked at her sharply out of the corner of her eye and her +lips twitched, but a moment later her face was immovably grave as she +carried the last plate of pancakes to the table.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann sat on her heels for a long time, watching the kitten lap +the milk, and she was surprised, when she stood up, to see that Cousin +Ann and Uncle Henry had come in, very red-cheeked from the cold air.</p> + +<p>“Well, folks,” said Aunt Abigail, “don’t you think we’ve done some +lively stepping around, Betsy and I, to get supper all on the table for +you?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stared. What did Aunt Abigail mean? She hadn’t done a +thing about getting supper! But nobody made any comment, and they all +took their seats and began to eat. Elizabeth Ann was astonishingly +hungry, and she thought she could never get enough of the creamed +potatoes, cold ham, hot cocoa, and pancakes. She was very much relieved +that her refusal of beans caused no comment. Aunt Frances had always +tried very hard to make her eat beans because they have so much protein +in them, and growing children need protein. Elizabeth Ann had heard this +said so many times she could have repeated it backward, but it had never +made her hate beans any the less. However, nobody here seemed to know +this, and Elizabeth Ann kept her knowledge to herself. They had also +evidently never heard how delicate her digestion was, for she never saw +anything like the number of pancakes they let her eat. <i>All she wanted</i>! +She had never heard of such a thing!</p> + +<p>They still did not ask her how she had “stood the trip.” They did not +indeed ask her much of anything or pay very much attention to her beyond +filling her plate as fast as she emptied it. In the middle of the meal +Eleanor came, jumped into her lap, and curled down, purring. After this +Elizabeth Ann kept one hand on the little soft ball, handling her fork +with the other.</p> + +<p>After supper—well, Elizabeth Ann never knew what did happen after +supper until she felt somebody lifting her and carrying her upstairs. It +was Cousin Ann, who carried her as lightly as though she were a baby, +and who said, as she sat down on the floor in a slant-ceilinged bedroom, +“You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you’re +pretty tired.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four +posts, and a curtain around the top. She was partly undressed, and was +undoing her hair and brushing it out. It was very curly and all fluffed +out in a shining white fuzz around her fat, pink face, full of soft +wrinkles; but in a moment she was braiding it up again and putting on a +tight white nightcap, which she tied under her chin.</p> + +<p>“We got the word about your coming so late,” said Cousin Ann, “that we +didn’t have time to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you’re +going to sleep in here for a while. The bed’s big enough for two, I +guess, even if they are as big as you and Mother.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stared again. What queer things they said here. She wasn’t +<i>nearly</i> as big as Aunt Abigail!</p> + +<p>“Mother, did you put Shep out?” asked Cousin Ann; and when Aunt Abigail +said, “No! There! I forgot to!” Cousin Ann went away; and that was the +last of <i>her</i>. They certainly believed in being saving of their words at +Putney Farm.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann began to undress. She was only half-awake; and that made +her feel only about half her age, which wasn’t very great, the whole of +it, and she felt like just crooking her arm over her eyes and giving up! +She was too forlorn! She had never slept with anybody before, and she +had heard ever so many times how bad it was for children to sleep with +grown-ups. An icy wind rattled the windows and puffed in around the +loose old casings. On the window-sill lay a little wreath of snow. +Elizabeth Ann shivered and shook on her thin legs, undressed in a hurry, +and slipped into her night-dress. She felt just as cold inside as out, +and never was more utterly miserable than in that strange, ugly little +room, with that strange, queer, fat old woman. She was even too +miserable to cry, and that is saying a great deal for Elizabeth Ann!</p> + +<p>She got into bed first, because Aunt Abigail said she was going to keep +the candle lighted for a while and read. “And anyhow,” she said, “I’d +better sleep on the outside to keep you from rolling out.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann and Aunt Abigail lay very still for a long time, Aunt +Abigail reading out of a small, worn old book. Elizabeth Ann could see +its title, “Essays of Emerson.” A book with that name had always laid +on the center table in Aunt Harriet’s house, but that copy was all new +and shiny, and Elizabeth Ann had never seen anybody look inside it. It +was a very dull-looking book, with no pictures and no conversation. The +little girl lay on her back, looking up at the cracks in the plaster +ceiling and watching the shadows sway and dance as the candle flickered +in the gusts of cold air. She herself began to feel a soft, pervasive +warmth. Aunt Abigail’s great body was like a stove.</p> + +<p>It was very, very quiet, quieter than any place Elizabeth Ann had ever +known, except church, because a trolley-line ran past Aunt Harriet’s +house and even at night there were always more or less bangings and +rattlings. Here there was not a single sound except the soft, whispery +noise when Aunt Abigail turned over a page as she read steadily and +silently forward in her book. Elizabeth Ann turned her head so that she +could see the round, rosy old face, full of soft wrinkles, and the calm, +steady old eyes which were fixed on the page. And as she lay there in +the warm bed, watching that quiet face, something very queer began to +happen to Elizabeth Ann. She felt as though a tight knot inside her were +slowly being untied. She felt—what was it she felt? There are no words +for it. From deep within her something rose up softly ... she drew one or +two long, half-sobbing breaths....</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;"> +<a id="do_you_know"> +<img src="images/do_you_know.jpg" width="358" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">“Do you know,” said Aunt Abigail, “I think it’s going to +be real nice, having a little girl in the house again.”</span> +</div> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laid down her book and looked over at the child. “Do you +know,” she said, in a conversational tone, “do you know, I think it’s +going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again.”</p> + +<p>Oh, then the tight knot in the little unwanted girl’s heart was loosened +indeed! It all gave way at once, and Elizabeth Ann burst suddenly into +hot tears—yes, I know I said I would not tell you any more about her +crying; but these tears were very different from any she had ever shed +before. And they were the last, too, for a long, long time.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail said, “Well, well!” and moving over in bed took the little +weeping girl into her arms. She did not say another word then, but she +put her soft, withered old cheek close against Elizabeth Ann’s, till the +sobs began to grow less, and then she said: “I hear your kitty crying +outside the door. Shall I let her in? I expect she’d like to sleep with +you. I guess there’s room for three of us.”</p> + +<p>She got out of bed as she spoke and walked across the room to the door. +The floor shook under her great bulk, and the peak of her nightcap made +a long, grotesque shadow. But as she came back with the kitten in her +arms Elizabeth Ann saw nothing funny in her looks. She gave Eleanor to +the little girl and got into bed again. “There, now, I guess we’re ready +for the night,” she said. “You put the kitty on the other side of you so +she won’t fall out of bed.”</p> + +<p>She blew the light out and moved over a little closer to Elizabeth Ann, +who immediately was enveloped in that delicious warmth. The kitten +curled up under the little girl’s chin. Between her and the terrors of +the dark room loomed the rampart of Aunt Abigail’s great body.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann drew a long, long breath ... and when she opened her eyes +the sun was shining in at the window.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> +A SHORT MORNING</h2> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was gone, Eleanor was gone. The room was quite empty except +for the bright sunshine pouring in through the small-paned windows. +Elizabeth Ann stretched and yawned and looked about her. What funny +wall-paper it was—so old-fashioned looking! The picture was of a blue +river and a brown mill, with green willow-trees over it, and a man with +sacks on his horse’s back stood in front of the mill. This picture was +repeated a great many times, all over the paper; and in the corner, +where it hadn’t come out even, they had had to cut it right down the +middle of the horse. It was very curious-looking. She stared at it a +long time, waiting for somebody to tell her when to get up. At home Aunt +Frances always told her, and helped her get dressed. But here nobody +came. She discovered that the heat came from a hole in the floor near +the bed, which opened down into the room below. From it came a warm +breath of baking bread and a muffled thump once in a while.</p> + +<p>The sun rose higher and higher, and Elizabeth Ann grew hungrier and +hungrier. Finally it occurred to her that it was not absolutely +necessary to have somebody tell her to get up. She reached for her +clothes and began to dress. When she had finished she went out into the +hall, and with a return of her aggrieved, abandoned feeling (you must +remember that her stomach was very empty) she began to try to find her +way downstairs. She soon found the steps, went down them one at a time, +and pushed open the door at the foot. Cousin Ann, the brown-haired one, +was ironing near the stove. She nodded and smiled as the child came into +the room, and said, “Well, you must feel rested!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I haven’t been asleep!” explained Elizabeth Ann. “I was waiting for +somebody to tell me to get up.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Cousin Ann, opening her black eyes a little. “<i>Were</i> you?” She +said no more than this, but Elizabeth Ann decided hastily that she would +not add, as she had been about to, that she was also waiting for +somebody to help her dress and do her hair. As a matter of fact, she had +greatly enjoyed doing her own hair—the first time she had ever tried +it. It had never occurred to Aunt Frances that her little baby-girl had +grown-up enough to be her own hairdresser, nor had it occurred to +Elizabeth Ann that this might be possible. But as she struggled with the +snarls she had had a sudden wild idea of doing it a different way from +the pretty fashion Aunt Frances always followed. Elizabeth Ann had +always secretly envied a girl in her class whose hair was all tied back +from her face, with one big knot in her ribbon at the back of her neck. +It looked so grown-up. And this morning she had done hers that way, +turning her neck till it ached, so that she could see the coveted tight +effect at the back. And still—aren’t little girls queer?—although she +had enjoyed doing her own hair, she was very much inclined to feel hurt +because Cousin Ann had not come to do it for her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<a id="doing_hair"></a> +<a href="images/doing_hair.jpg"> +<img src="images/doing_hair_sml.jpg" width="550" height="415" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.</span> +</div> + +<p>Cousin Ann set her iron down with the soft thump which Elizabeth Ann had +heard upstairs. She began folding a napkin, and said: “Now reach +yourself a bowl off the shelf yonder. The oatmeal’s in that kettle on +the stove and the milk is in the blue pitcher. If you want a piece of +bread and butter, here’s a new loaf just out of the oven, and the +butter’s in that brown crock.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann followed these instructions and sat down before this +quickly assembled breakfast in a very much surprised silence. At home it +took the girl more than half an hour to get breakfast and set the table, +and then she had to wait on them besides. She began to pour the milk out +of the pitcher and stopped suddenly. “Oh, I’m afraid I’ve taken more +than my share!” she said apologetically.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann looked up from her rapidly moving iron, and said, in an +astonished voice: “Your share? What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“My share of the quart,” explained Elizabeth Ann. At home they bought a +quart of milk and a cup of cream every day, and they were all very +conscientious about not taking more than their due share.</p> + +<p>“Good land, child, take all the <i>milk</i> you want!” said Cousin Ann, as +though she found something shocking in what the little girl had just +said. Elizabeth Ann thought to herself that she spoke as though milk ran +out of a faucet, like water.</p> + +<p>She was very fond of milk, and she made a very good breakfast as she sat +looking about the low-ceilinged room. It was unlike any room she had +ever seen.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, the kitchen, and yet it didn’t seem possible that the +same word could be applied to that room and the small, dark cubby-hole +which had been Grace’s asthmatical kingdom. This room was very long and +narrow, and all along one side were windows with white, ruffled curtains +drawn back at the sides, and with small, shining panes of glass, through +which the sun poured a golden flood of light on a long shelf of potted +plants that took the place of a window-sill. The shelf was covered with +shining white oil-cloth, the pots were of clean reddish brown, the +sturdy, stocky plants of bright green with clear red-and-white flowers. +Elizabeth Ann’s eyes wandered all over the kitchen from the low, white +ceiling to the clean, bare wooden floor, but they always came back to +those sunny windows. Once, back in the big brick school-building, as she +had sat drooping her thin shoulders over her desk, some sort of a +procession had gone by with a brass band playing a lively air. For some +queer reason, every time she now glanced at that sheet of sunlight and +the bright flowers she had a little of the same thrill which had +straightened her back and gone up and down her spine while the band was +playing. Possibly Aunt Frances was right, after all, and Elizabeth Ann +<i>was</i> a very impressionable child. I wonder, by the way, if anybody ever +saw a child who wasn’t.</p> + +<p>At one end, the end where Cousin Ann was ironing, stood the kitchen +stove, gleaming black, with a tea-kettle humming away on it, a big +hot-water boiler near it, and a large kitchen cabinet with lots of +drawers and shelves and hooks and things. Beyond that, in the middle of +the room, was the table where they had had supper last night, and at +which the little girl now sat eating her very late breakfast; and beyond +that, at the other end of the room, was another table with an old +dark-red cashmere shawl on it for a cover. A large lamp stood in the +middle of this, a bookcase near it, two or three rocking-chairs around +it, and back of it, against the wall, was a wide sofa covered with +bright cretonne, with three bright pillows. Something big and black and +woolly was lying on this sofa, snoring loudly. As Cousin Ann saw the +little girl’s fearful glance alight on this she explained: “That’s Shep, +our old dog. Doesn’t he make an awful noise! Mother says, when she +happens to be alone here in the evening, it’s real company to hear Shep +snore—as good as having a man in the house.”</p> + +<p>Although this did not seem at all a sensible remark to Elizabeth Ann, +who thought soberly to herself that she didn’t see why snoring made a +dog as good as a man, still she was acute enough (for she was really +quite an intelligent little girl) to feel that it belonged in the same +class of remarks as one or two others she had noted as “queer” in the +talk at Putney Farm last night. This variety of talk was entirely new to +her, nobody in Aunt Harriet’s conscientious household ever making +anything but plain statements of fact. It was one of the “queer Putney +ways” which Aunt Harriet had forgotten to mention. It is possible that +Aunt Harriet had never noticed it.</p> + +<p>When Elizabeth Ann finished her breakfast, Cousin Ann made three +suggestions, using exactly the same accent for them all. She said: +“Wouldn’t you better wash your dishes up now before they get sticky? And +don’t you want one of those red apples from the dish on the side table? +And then maybe you’d like to look around the house so’s to know where +you are.” Elizabeth Ann had never washed a dish in all her life, and she +had always thought that nobody but poor, ignorant people, who couldn’t +afford to hire girls, did such things. And yet (it was odd) she did not +feel like saying this to Cousin Ann, who stood there so straight in her +gingham dress and apron, with her clear, bright eyes and red cheeks. +Besides this feeling, Elizabeth Ann was overcome with embarrassment at +the idea of undertaking a new task in that casual way. How in the world +<i>did</i> you wash dishes? She stood rooted to the spot, irresolute, horribly +shy, and looking, though she did not know it, very clouded and sullen. +Cousin Ann said briskly, holding an iron up to her cheek to see if it +was hot enough: “Just take them over to the sink there and hold them +under the hot-water faucet. They’ll be clean in no time. The dish-towels +are those hanging on the rack over the stove.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann moved promptly over to the sink, as though Cousin Ann’s +words had shoved her there, and before she knew it, her saucer, cup, and +spoon were clean and she was wiping them on a dry checked towel. “The +spoon goes in the side-table drawer with the other silver, and the +saucer and cup in those shelves there behind the glass doors where the +china belongs,” continued Cousin Ann, thumping hard with her iron on a +napkin and not looking up at all, “and don’t forget your apple as you go +out. Those Northern Spies are just getting to be good about now. When +they first come off the tree in October you could shoot them through an +oak plank.”</p> + +<p>Now Elizabeth Ann knew that this was a foolish thing to say, since of +course an apple never could go through a board; but something that had +always been sound asleep in her brain woke up a little, little bit and +opened one eye. For it occurred dimly to Elizabeth Ann that this was a +rather funny way of saying that Northern Spies were very hard when you +first pick them in the autumn. She had to figure it out for herself very +slowly, because it was a new idea to her, and she was half-way through +her tour of inspection of the house before there glimmered on her lips, +in a faint smile, the first recognition of humor in all her life. She +felt a momentary impulse to call down to Cousin Ann that she saw the +point, but before she had taken a single step toward the head of the +stairs she had decided not to do this. Cousin Ann, with her bright, dark +eyes, and her straight back, and her long arms, and her way of speaking +as though it never occurred to her that you wouldn’t do just as she +said—Elizabeth Ann was not very sure that she liked Cousin Ann, and she +was very sure that she was afraid of her.</p> + +<p>So she went on, walking from one room to another, industriously eating +the red apple, the biggest she had ever seen. It was the best, too, with +its crisp, white flesh and the delicious, sour-sweet juice which made +Elizabeth Ann feel with each mouthful like hurrying to take another. She +did not think much more of the other rooms in the house than she had of +the kitchen. There were no draped “throws” over anything; there were no +lace curtains at the windows, just dotted Swiss like the kitchen; all +the ceilings were very low; the furniture was all of dark wood and very +old-looking; what few rugs there were were of bright-colored rags; the +mirrors were queer and old, with funny old pictures at the top; there +wasn’t a brass bed in any of the bedrooms, just old wooden ones with +posts, and curtains round the tops; and there was not a single plush +portiere in the parlor, whereas at Aunt Harriet’s there had been two +sets for that one room.</p> + +<p>She was relieved at the absence of a piano and secretly rejoiced that +she would not need to practice. In her heart she had not liked her music +lessons at all, but she had never dreamed of not accepting them from +Aunt Frances as she accepted everything else. Also she had liked to hear +Aunt Frances boast about how much better she could play than other +children of her age.</p> + +<p>She was downstairs by this time, and, opening a door out of the parlor, +found herself back in the kitchen, the long line of sunny windows and +the bright flowers giving her that quick little thrill again. Cousin Ann +looked up from her ironing, nodded, and said: “All through? You’d better +come in and get warmed up. Those rooms get awfully cold these January +days. Winters we mostly use this room so’s to get the good of the +kitchen stove.” She added after a moment, during which Elizabeth Ann +stood by the stove, warming her hands: “There’s one place you haven’t +seen yet—the milk-room. Mother’s down there now, churning. That’s the +door—the middle one.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had been wondering and wondering where in the world Aunt +Abigail was. So she stepped quickly to the door, and went dawn the cold +dark stairs she found there. At the bottom was a door, locked +apparently, for she could find no fastening. She heard steps inside, the +door was briskly cast open, and she almost fell into the arms of Aunt +Abigail, who caught her as she stumbled forward, saying: “Well, I’ve +been expectin’ you down here for a long time. I never saw a little girl +yet who didn’t like to watch butter-making. Don’t you love to run the +butter-worker over it? I do, myself, for all I’m seventy-two!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know anything about it,” said Elizabeth Ann. “I don’t know what +you make butter out of. We always bought ours.”</p> + +<p>“Well, <i>for goodness</i>’ <i>sakes</i>!” said Aunt Abigail. She turned and called +across the room, “Henry, did you ever! Here’s Betsy saying she don’t +know what we make butter out of! She actually never saw anybody making +butter!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was sitting down, near the window, turning the handle to a +small barrel swung between two uprights. He stopped for a moment and +considered Aunt Abigail’s remark with the same serious attention he had +given to Elizabeth Ann’s discovery about left and right. Then he began +to turn the churn over and over again and said, peaceably: “Well, +Mother, you never saw anybody laying asphalt pavement, I’ll warrant you! +And I suppose Betsy knows all about that.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann’s spirits rose. She felt very superior indeed. “Oh, yes,” +she assured them, “I know <i>all</i> about that! Didn’t you ever see anybody +doing that? Why, I’ve seen them <i>hundreds</i> of times! Every day as we went +to school they were doing over the whole pavement for blocks along +there.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail and Uncle Henry looked at her with interest, and Aunt +Abigail said: “Well, now, think of that! Tell us all about it!”</p> + +<p>“Why, there’s a big black sort of wagon,” began Elizabeth Ann, “and they +run it up and down and pour out the black stuff on the road. And that’s +all there is to it.” She stopped, rather abruptly, looking uneasy. Uncle +Henry inquired: “Now there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to know. How +do they keep that stuff from hardening on them? How do they keep it +hot?”</p> + +<p>The little girl looked blank. “Why, a fire, I suppose,” she faltered, +searching her memory desperately and finding there only a dim +recollection of a red glow somewhere connected with the familiar scene +at which she had so often looked with unseeing eyes.</p> + +<p>“Of course a fire,” agreed Uncle Henry. “But what do they burn in it, +coke or coal or wood or charcoal? And how do they get any draft to keep +it going?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann shook her head. “I never noticed,” she said.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail asked her now, “What do they do to the road before they +pour it on?”</p> + +<p>“Do?” said Elizabeth Ann. “I didn’t know they did anything.”</p> + +<p>“Well, they can’t pour it right on a dirt road, can they?” asked Aunt +Abigail. “Don’t they put down cracked stone or something?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann looked down at her toes. “I never noticed,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I wonder how long it takes for it to harden?” said Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>“I never noticed,” said Elizabeth Ann, in a small voice.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry said, “Oh!” and stopped asking questions. Aunt Abigail +turned away and put a stick of wood in the stove. Elizabeth Ann did not +feel very superior now, and when Aunt Abigail said, “Now the butter’s +beginning to come. Don’t you want to watch and see everything I do, so’s +you can answer if anybody asks you how butter is made?” Elizabeth Ann +understood perfectly what was in Aunt’s Abigail’s mind, and gave to the +process of butter-making a more alert and aroused attention than she had +ever before given to anything. It was so interesting, too, that in no +time she forgot why she was watching, and was absorbed in the +fascinations of the dairy for their own sake.</p> + +<p>She looked in the churn as Aunt Abigail unscrewed the top, and saw the +thick, sour cream separating into buttermilk and tiny golden particles. +“It’s gathering,” said Aunt Abigail, screwing the lid back on. +“Father’ll churn it a little more till it really comes. And you and I +will scald the wooden butter things and get everything ready. You’d +better take that apron there to keep your dress clean.”</p> + +<p>Wouldn’t Aunt Frances have been astonished if she could have looked in +on Elizabeth Ann that very first morning of her stay at the hateful +Putney Farm and have seen her wrapped in a gingham apron, her face +bright with interest, trotting here and there in the stone-floored +milk-room! She was allowed the excitement of pulling out the plug from +the bottom of the churn, and dodged back hastily to escape the gush of +buttermilk spouting into the pail held by Aunt Abigail. And she poured +the water in to wash the butter, and screwed on the top herself, and, +again all herself (for Uncle Henry had gone off as soon as the butter +had “come”), swung the barrel back and forth six or seven times to swish +the water all through the particles of butter. She even helped Aunt +Abigail scoop out the great yellow lumps—her imagination had never +conceived of so much butter in all the world! Then Aunt Abigail let her +run the curiously shaped wooden butter-worker back and forth over the +butter, squeezing out the water, and then pile it up again with her +wooden paddle into a mound of gold. She weighed out the salt needed on +the scales, and was very much surprised to find that there really is +such a thing as an ounce. She had never met it before outside the pages +of her arithmetic book and she didn’t know it lived anywhere else.</p> + +<p>After the salt was worked in she watched Aunt Abigail’s deft, wrinkled +old hands make pats and rolls. It looked like the greatest fun, and too +easy for anything; and when Aunt Abigail asked her if she wouldn’t like +to make up the last half-pound into a pat for dinner, she took up the +wooden paddle confidently. And then she got one of the surprises that +Putney Farm seemed to have for her. She discovered that her hands didn’t +seem to belong to her at all, that her fingers were all thumbs, that she +didn’t seem to know in the least beforehand how hard a stroke she was +going to give nor which way her fingers were going to go. It was, as a +matter of fact, the first time Elizabeth Ann had tried to do anything +with her hands except to write and figure and play on the piano, and +naturally she wasn’t very well acquainted with them. She stopped in +dismay, looking at the shapeless, battered heap of butter before her and +holding out her hands as though they were not part of her.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed, took up the paddle, and after three or four passes +the butter was a smooth, yellow ball. “Well, that brings it all back to +me!” she said “when <i>I</i> was a little girl, when my grandmother first +let me try to make a pat. I was about five years old—my! what a mess I +made of it! And I remember? doesn’t it seem funny—that <i>she</i> laughed and +said her Great-aunt Elmira had taught her how to handle butter right +here in this very milk-room. Let’s see, Grandmother was born the year +the Declaration of Independence was signed. That’s quite a while ago, +isn’t it? But butter hasn’t changed much, I guess, nor little girls +either.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann listened to this statement with a very queer, startled +expression on her face, as though she hadn’t understood the words. Now +for a moment she stood staring up in Aunt Abigail’s face, and yet not +seeing her at all, because she was thinking so hard. She was thinking! +“Why! There were real people living when the Declaration of Independence +was signed—real people, not just history people—old women teaching +little girls how to do things—right in this very room, on this very +floor—and the Declaration of Independence just signed!”</p> + +<p>To tell the honest truth, although she had passed a very good +examination in the little book on American history they had studied in +school, Elizabeth Ann had never to that moment had any notion that there +ever had been really and truly any Declaration of Independence at all. +It had been like the ounce, living exclusively inside her schoolbooks +for little girls to be examined about. And now here Aunt Abigail, +talking about a butter-pat, had brought it to life!</p> + +<p>Of course all this only lasted a moment, because it was such a new idea! +She soon lost track of what she was thinking of; she rubbed her eyes as +though she were coming out of a dream, she thought, confusedly: “What +did butter have to do with the Declaration of Independence? Nothing, of +course! It couldn’t!” and the whole impression seemed to pass out of her +mind. But it was an impression which was to come again and again during +the next few months.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> +BETSY GOES TO SCHOOL</h2> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was very much surprised to hear Cousin Ann’s voice +calling, “Dinner!” down the stairs. It did not seem possible that the +whole morning had gone by. “Here,” said Aunt Abigail, “just put that pat +on a plate, will you, and take it upstairs as you go. I’ve got all I can +do to haul my own two hundred pounds up, without any half-pound of +butter into the bargain.” The little girl smiled at this, though she did +not exactly know why, and skipped up the stairs proudly with her butter.</p> + +<p>Dinner was smoking on the table, which was set in the midst of the great +pool of sunlight. A very large black-and-white dog, with a great bushy +tail, was walking around and around the table, sniffing the air. He +looked as big as a bear to Elizabeth Ann; and as he walked his great red +tongue hung out of his mouth and his white teeth gleamed horribly. +Elizabeth Ann shrank back in terror, clutching her plate of butter to +her breast with tense fingers. Cousin. Ann said, over her shoulder: “Oh, +bother! There’s old Shep, got up to pester us begging for scraps! Shep! +You go and lie down this minute!” To Elizabeth Ann’s astonishment and +immense relief, the great animal turned, drooping his head sadly, walked +back across the floor, got upon the couch again, and laid his head down +on one paw very forlornly, turning up the whites of his eyes meekly at +Cousin Ann.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail, who had just pulled herself up the stairs, panting, said, +between laughing and puffing: “I’m glad I’m not an animal on this farm. +Ann does boss them around so.” “Well, SOMEbody has to!” said Cousin Ann, +advancing on the table with a platter. This proved to have chicken +fricassee on it, and Elizabeth Ann’s heart melted in her at the smell. +She loved chicken gravy on hot biscuits beyond anything in the world, +but chickens are so expensive when you buy them in the market that Aunt +Harriet hadn’t had them very often for dinner. And there was a plate of +biscuits, golden brown, just coming out of the oven! She sat down very +quickly, her mouth watering, and attacked with extreme haste the big +plateful of food which Cousin Ann passed her.</p> + +<p>At Aunt Harriet’s she had always been aware that everybody watched her +anxiously as she ate, and she had heard so much about her light appetite +that she felt she must live up to her reputation, and had a very natural +and human hesitation about eating all she wanted when there happened to +be something she liked very much. But nobody here knew that she “only +ate enough to keep a bird alive,” and that her “appetite was <i>so</i> +capricious!” Nor did anybody notice her while she stowed away the +chicken and gravy and hot biscuits and currant jelly and baked potatoes +and apple pie—when did Elizabeth Ann ever eat such a meal before! She +actually felt her belt grow tight.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the meal Cousin Ann got up to answer the telephone, +which was in the next room. The instant the door had closed behind her +Uncle Henry leaned forward, tapped Elizabeth Ann on the shoulder, and +nodded toward the sofa. His eyes were twinkling, and as for Aunt Abigail +she began to laugh silently, shaking all over, her napkin at her mouth +to stifle the sound. Elizabeth Ann turned wonderingly and saw the old +dog cautiously and noiselessly letting himself down from the sofa, one +ear cocked rigidly in the direction of Cousin Ann’s voice in the next +room. “The old tyke!” said Uncle Henry. “He always sneaks up to the +table to be fed if Ann goes out for a minute. Here, Betsy, you’re +nearest, give him this piece of skin from the chicken neck.” The big dog +padded forward across the room, evidently in such a state of terror +about Cousin Ann that Elizabeth Ann felt for him. She had a +fellow-feeling about that relative of hers. Also it was impossible to be +afraid of so abjectly meek and guilty an animal. As old Shep came up to +her, poking his nose inquiringly on her lap, she shrinkingly held out +the big piece of skin, and though she jumped back at the sudden snap and +gobbling gulp with which the old dog greeted the tidbit, she could not +but sympathize with his evident enjoyment of it. He waved his bushy tail +gratefully, cocked his head on one side, and, his ears standing up at +attention, his eyes glistening greedily, he gave a little, begging +whine. “Oh, he’s asking for more!” cried Elizabeth Ann, surprised to see +how plainly she could understand dog-talk. “Quick, Uncle Henry, give me +another piece!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry rapidly transferred to her plate a wing-bone from his own, +and Aunt Abigail, with one deft swoop, contributed the neck from the +platter. As fast as she could, Elizabeth Ann fed these to Shep, who +woofed them down at top speed, the bones crunching loudly under his +strong, white teeth. How he did enjoy it! It did your heart good to see +his gusto!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<a id="asking_more"></a> +<a href="images/asking_more.jpg"> +<img src="images/asking_more_sml.jpg" width="550" height="426" alt="" /></a> +<span class="caption">“Oh, he’s asking for more’” cried Elizabeth Ann</span> +</div> + +<p>There was the sound of the telephone receiver being hung up in the next +room—and everybody acted at once. Aunt Abigail began drinking +innocently out of her coffee-cup, only her laughing old eyes showing +over the rim; Uncle Henry buttered a slice of bread with a grave face, +as though he were deep in conjectures about who would be the next +President; and as for old Shep, he made one plunge across the room, his +toe-nails clicking rapidly on the bare floor, sprang up on the couch, +and when Cousin Ann opened the door and came in he was lying in exactly +the position in which she had left him, his paw stretched out, his head +laid on it, his brown eyes turned up meekly so that the whites showed.</p> + +<p>I’ve told you what these three did, but I haven’t told you yet what +Elizabeth Ann did. And it is worth telling. As Cousin Ann stepped in, +glancing suspiciously from her sober-faced and abstracted parents to the +lamb-like innocence of old Shep, little Elizabeth Ann burst into a shout +of laughter. It’s worth telling about, because, so far as I know, that +was the first time she had ever laughed out heartily in all her life. +For my part, I’m half surprised to know that she knew how.</p> + +<p>Of course, when she laughed, Aunt Abigail had to laugh too, setting down +her coffee-cup and showing all the funny wrinkles in her face screwed up +hard with fun; and that made Uncle Henry laugh, and then Cousin Ann +laughed and said, as she sat down, “You are bad children, the whole four +of you!” And old Shep, seeing the state of things, stopped pretending to +be meek, jumped down, and came lumbering over to the table, wagging his +tail and laughing too; you know that good, wide dog-smile! He put his +head on Elizabeth Ann’s lap again and she patted it and lifted up one of +his big black ears. She had quite forgotten that she was terribly afraid +of big dogs.</p> + +<p>After dinner Cousin Ann looked up at the clock and said: “My goodness! +Betsy’ll be late for school if she doesn’t start right off.” She +explained to the child, aghast at this sudden thunderclap, “I let you +sleep this morning as long as you wanted to, because you were so tired +from your journey. But of course there’s no reason for missing the +afternoon session.”</p> + +<p>As Elizabeth Ann continued sitting perfectly still, frozen with alarm, +Cousin Ann jumped up briskly, got the little coat and cap, helped her +up, and began inserting the child’s arms into the sleeves. She pulled +the cap well down over Elizabeth Ann’s ears, felt in the pocket and +pulled out the mittens. “There,” she said, holding them out, “you’d +better put them on before you go out, for it’s a real cold day.” As she +led the stupefied little girl along toward the door Aunt Abigail came +after them and put a big sugar-cookie into the child’s hand. “Maybe +you’ll like to eat that for your recess time,” she said. “I always did +when I went to school.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann’s hand closed automatically about the cookie, but she +scarcely heard what was said. She felt herself to be in a bad dream. +Aunt Frances had never, no <i>never</i>, let her go to school alone, and on the +first day of the year always took her to the new teacher and introduced +her and told the teacher how sensitive she was and how hard to +understand; and then she stayed there for an hour or two till Elizabeth +Ann got used to things! She could not face a whole new school all +alone—oh, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t! She couldn’t! Horrors! Here she +was in the front hall—she was on the porch! Cousin Ann was saying: “Now +run along, child. Straight down the road till the first turn to the +left, and there in the cross-roads, there you are.” And now the front +door closed behind her, the path stretched before her to the road, and +the road led down the hill the way Cousin Ann had pointed. Elizabeth +Ann’s feet began to move forward and carried her down the path, although +she was still crying out to herself, “I can’t! I won’t! I can’t!”</p> + +<p>Are you wondering why Elizabeth Ann didn’t turn right around, open the +front door, walk in, and say, “I can’t! I won’t! I can’t!” to Cousin +Ann?</p> + +<p>The answer to that question is that she didn’t do it because Cousin Ann +was Cousin Ann. And there’s more in that than you think! In fact, there +is a mystery in it that nobody has ever solved, not even the greatest +scientists and philosophers, although, like all scientists and +philosophers, they think they have gone a long way toward explaining +something they don’t understand by calling it a long name. The long name +is “personality,” and what it means nobody knows, but it is perhaps the +very most important thing in the world for all that. And yet we know +only one or two things about it. We know that anybody’s personality is +made up of the sum total of all the actions and thoughts and desires of +his life. And we know that though there aren’t any words or any figures +in any language to set down that sum total accurately, still it is one +of the first things that everybody knows about anybody else. And that is +really all we know!</p> + +<p>So I can’t tell you why Elizabeth Ann did not go back and cry and sob +and say she couldn’t and she wouldn’t and she couldn’t, as she would +certainly have done at Aunt Harriet’s. You remember that I could not +even tell you why it was that, as the little fatherless and motherless +girl lay in bed looking at Aunt Abigail’s old face, she should feel so +comforted and protected that she must needs break out crying. No, all I +can say is that it was because Aunt Abigail was Aunt Abigail. But +perhaps it may occur to you that it’s rather a good idea to keep a sharp +eye on your “personality,” whatever that is! It might be very handy, you +know, to have a personality like Cousin Ann’s which sent Elizabeth Ann’s +feet down the path; or perhaps you would prefer one like Aunt Abigail’s. +Well, take your choice.</p> + +<p>You must not, of course, think for a moment that Elizabeth Ann had the +slightest <i>intention</i> of obeying Cousin Ann. No indeed! Nothing was +farther from her mind as her feet carried her along the path and into +the road. In her mind was nothing but rebellion and fear and anger and +oh, such hurt feelings! She turned sick at the very thought of facing +all the staring, curious faces in the playground turned on the new +scholar as she had seen them at home! She would never, never do it! She +would walk around all the afternoon, and then go back and tell Cousin +Ann that she couldn’t! She would <i>explain</i> to her how Aunt Frances never +let her go out of doors without a loving hand to cling to. She would +<i>explain</i> to her how Aunt Frances always took care of her! ... it was easier +to think about what she would say and do and explain, away from Cousin +Ann, than it was to say and do it before those black eyes. Aunt +Frances’s eyes were soft, light blue.</p> + +<p>Oh, how she wanted Aunt Frances to take care of her! Nobody cared a +thing about her! Nobody <i>understood</i> her but Aunt Frances! She wouldn’t go +back at all to Putney Farm. She would just walk on and on till she was +lost, and the night would come and she would lie down and freeze to +death, and then wouldn’t Cousin Ann feel ... Someone called to her, +“Isn’t this Betsy?”</p> + +<p>She looked up astonished. A young girl in a gingham dress and a white +apron like those at Putney Farm stood in front of a tiny, square +building, like a toy house. “Isn’t this Betsy?” asked the young girl +again. “Your Cousin Ann said you were coming to school today and I’ve +been looking out for you. But I saw you going right by, and I ran out to +stop you.”</p> + +<p>“Why, where <i>is</i> the school?” asked Betsy, staring around for a big brick, +four-story building.</p> + +<p>The young girl laughed and held out her hand. “This is the school,” she +said, “and I am the teacher, and you’d better come right in, for it’s +time to begin.”</p> + +<p>She led Betsy into a low-ceilinged room with geraniums at the windows, +where about a dozen children of different ages sat behind their desks. +At the first sight of them Betsy blushed crimson with fright and +shyness, and hung down her head; but, looking out the corners of her +eyes, she saw that they, too, were all very red-faced and scared-looking +and hung down their heads, looking at her shyly out of the corners of +their eyes. She was so surprised by this that she forgot all about +herself and looked inquiringly at the teacher.</p> + +<p>“They don’t see many strangers,” the teacher explained, “and they feel +very shy and scared when a new scholar comes, especially one from the +city.”</p> + +<p>“Is this my grade?” asked Elizabeth, thinking it the very smallest grade +she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>“This is the whole school,” said the teacher. “There are only two or +three in each class. You’ll probably have three in yours. Miss Ann said +you were in the third grade. There, that’s your seat.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth sat down before a very old desk, much battered and hacked up +with knife marks. There was a big H. P. carved just over the inkwell, +and many other initials scattered all over the top.</p> + +<p>The teacher stepped back to her desk and took up a violin that lay +there. “Now, children, we’ll begin the afternoon session by singing +‘America,’” she said. She played the air over a little very sweetly and +stirringly, and then as the children stood up she came down close to +them, standing just in front of Betsy. She drew the bow across the +strings in a big chord, and said, “<i>Now</i>,” and Betsy burst into song with +the others. The sun came in the windows brightly, the teacher, too, sang +as she played, and all the children, even the littlest ones, opened +their mouths wide and sang lustily.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> +WHAT GRADE IS BETSY?</h2> + +<p>After the singing the teacher gave Elizabeth Ann a pile of schoolbooks, +some paper, some pencils, and a pen, and told her to set her desk in +order. There were more initials carved inside, another big H. P. with a +little A. P. under it. What a lot of children must have sat there, +thought the little girl as she arranged her books and papers. As she +shut down the lid the teacher finished giving some instructions to three +or four little ones and said, “Betsy and Ralph and Ellen, bring your +reading books up here.”</p> + +<p>Betsy sighed, took out her third-grade reader, and went with the other +two up to the battered old bench near the teacher’s desk. She knew all +about reading lessons and she hated them, although she loved to read. +But reading lessons...! You sat with your book open at some reading that +you could do with your eyes shut, it was so easy, and you waited and +waited and waited while your classmates slowly stumbled along, reading +aloud a sentence or two apiece, until your turn came to stand up and +read your sentence or two, which by that time sounded just like nonsense +because you’d read it over and over so many times to yourself before +your chance came. And often you didn’t even have a chance to do that, +because the teacher didn’t have time to get around to you at all, and +you closed your book and put it back in your desk without having opened +your mouth. Reading was one thing Elizabeth Ann had learned to do very +well indeed, but she had learned it all by herself at home from much +reading to herself. Aunt Frances had kept her well supplied with +children’s books from the nearest public library. She often read three a +week—very different, that, from a sentence or two once or twice a week.</p> + +<p>When she sat down on the battered old bench she almost laughed aloud, it +seemed so funny to be in a class of only three. There had been forty in +her grade in the big brick building. She sat in the middle, the little +girl whom the teacher had called Ellen on one side, and Ralph on the +other. Ellen was very pretty, with fair hair smoothly braided in two +little pig-tails, sweet, blue eyes, and a clean blue-and-white gingham +dress. Ralph had very black eyes, dark hair, a big bruise on his +forehead, a cut on his chin, and a tear in the knee of his short +trousers. He was much bigger than Ellen, and Elizabeth Ann thought he +looked rather fierce. She decided that she would be afraid of him, and +would not like him at all.</p> + +<p>“Page thirty-two,” said the teacher. “Ralph first.”</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up and began to read. It sounded very familiar to Elizabeth +Ann, for he did not read at all well. What was not familiar was that the +teacher did not stop him after the first sentence. He read on and on +till he had read a page, the teacher only helping him with the hardest +words.</p> + +<p>“Now Betsy,” said the teacher.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stood up, read the first sentence, and paused, like a +caged lion pausing when he comes to the end of his cage.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” said the teacher.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann read the next sentence and stopped again, automatically.</p> + +<p>“Go <i>on</i>,” said the teacher, looking at her sharply.</p> + +<p>The next time the little girl paused the teacher laughed out +good-naturedly. “What is the matter with you, Betsy?” she said. “Go on +till I tell you to stop.”</p> + +<p>So Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised but very much interested, read on, +sentence after sentence, till she forgot they were sentences and just +thought of what they meant. She read a whole page and then another page, +and that was the end of the selection. She had never read aloud so much +in her life. She was aware that everybody in the room had stopped +working to listen to her. She felt very proud and less afraid than she +had ever thought she could be in a schoolroom. When she finished, +“You read very well!” said the teacher. “Is this very easy for you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>yes</i>!” said Elizabeth Ann.</p> + +<p>“I guess, then, that you’d better not stay in this class,” said the +teacher. She took a book out of her desk. “See if you can read that.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann began in her usual school-reading style, very slow and +monotonous, but this didn’t seem like a “reader” at all. It was poetry, +full of hard words that were fun to try to pronounce, and it was all +about an old woman who would hang out an American flag, even though the +town was full of rebel soldiers. She read faster and faster, getting +more and more excited, till she broke out with “Halt!” in such a loud, +spirited voice that the sound of it startled her and made her stop, +fearing that she would be laughed at. But nobody laughed. They were all +listening, very eagerly, even the little ones, with their eyes turned +toward her.</p> + +<p>“You might as well go on and let us see how it came out,” said the +teacher, and Betsy finished triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“<i>Well</i>,” said the teacher, “there’s no sense in your reading along in the +third reader. After this you’ll recite out of the seventh reader with +Frank and Harry and Stashie.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann could not believe her ears. To be “jumped” four grades in +that casual way! It wasn’t possible! She at once thought, however, of +something that would prevent it entirely, and while Ellen was reading +her page in a slow, careful little voice, Elizabeth Ann was feeling +miserably that she must explain to the teacher why she couldn’t read +with the seventh-grade children. Oh, how she wished she could! When they +stood up to go back to their seats she hesitated, hung her head, and +looked very unhappy. “Did you want to say something to me?” asked the +teacher, pausing with a bit of chalk in her hand.</p> + +<p>The little girl went up to her desk and said, what she knew it was her +duty to confess: “I can’t be allowed to read in the seventh reader. I +don’t write a bit well, and I never get the mental number-work right. I +couldn’t do ANYthing with seventh-grade arithmetic!”</p> + +<p>The teacher looked a little blank and said: “<i>I</i> didn’t say anything +about your number-work! I don’t <i>know</i> anything about it! You haven’t +recited yet.” She turned away and began to write a list of words on the +board. “Betsy, Ralph, and Ellen study their spelling,” she said. “You +little ones come up for your reading.”</p> + +<p>Two little boys and two little girls came forward as Elizabeth Ann began +to con over the words on the board. At first she found she was listening +to the little, chirping voices, as the children straggled with their +reading, instead of studying “doubt, travel, cheese,” and the other +words in her lesson. But she put her hands over her ears, and her mind +on her spelling. She wanted to make a good impression with that lesson. +After a while, when she was sure she could spell them all correctly, she +began to listen and look around her. She always “got” her spelling in +less time than was allowed the class, and usually sat idle, looking out +of the window until that study period was over. But now the moment she +stopped staring at the board and moving her lips as she spelled to +herself the teacher said, just as though she had been watching her every +minute instead of conducting a class, “Betsy, have you learned your +spelling?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am, I think so,” said Elizabeth Ann, wondering very much why +she was asked.</p> + +<p>“That’s fine,” said the teacher. “I wish you’d take little Molly over in +that corner and help her with her reading. She’s getting on so much +better than the rest of the class that I hate to have her lose her time. +Just hear her read the rest of her little story, will you, and don’t +help her unless she’s really stuck.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was startled by this request, which was unheard of in her +experience. She was very uncertain of herself as she sat down on a low +chair in the corner of the schoolroom away from the desks, with the +little child leaning on her knee. And yet she was not exactly afraid, +either, because Molly was such a shy little roly-poly thing, with her +crop of yellow curls, and her bright blue eyes very serious as she +looked hard at the book and began: “Once there was a rat. It was a fat +rat.” No, it was impossible to be frightened of such a funny little +girl, who peered so earnestly into the older child’s face to make sure +she was doing her lesson right.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had never had anything to do with children younger than +herself, and she felt very pleased and important to have anybody look up +to <i>her</i>! She put her arm around Molly’s square, warm, fat little body and +gave her a squeeze. Molly snuggled up closer; and the two children put +their heads together over the printed page, Elizabeth Ann correcting +Molly very gently indeed when she made a mistake, and waiting patiently +when she hesitated. She had so fresh in her mind her own suffering from +quick, nervous corrections that she took the greatest pleasure in +speaking quietly and not interrupting the little girl more than was +necessary. It was fun to teach, <i>lots</i> of fun! She was surprised when the +teacher said, “Well, Betsy, how did Molly do?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, is the time up?” said Elizabeth Ann. “Why, she does beautifully, I +think, for such a little thing.”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose,” said the teacher thoughtfully, just as though Betsy +were a grown-up person, “do you suppose she could go into the second +reader, with Eliza? There’s no use keeping her in the first if she’s +ready to go on.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann’s head whirled with this second light-handed juggling with +the sacred distinction between the grades. In the big brick schoolhouse +nobody <i>ever</i> went into another grade except at the beginning of a new +year, after you’d passed a lot of examinations. She had not known that +anybody could do anything else. The idea that everybody took a year to a +grade, no <i>matter</i> what! was so fixed in her mind that she felt as though +the teacher had said: “How would you like to stop being nine years old +and be twelve instead! And don’t you think Molly would better be eight +instead of six?”</p> + +<p>However, just then her class in arithmetic was called, so that she had +no more time to be puzzled. She came forward with Ralph and Ellen again, +very low in her mind. She hated arithmetic with all her might, and she +really didn’t understand a thing about it! By long experience she had +learned to read her teachers’ faces very accurately, and she guessed by +their expression whether the answer she gave was the right one. And that +was the only way she could tell. You never heard of any other child who +did that, did you?</p> + +<p>They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just her +luck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and of +course right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8. She never +knew that one! She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguely +that it was somewhere in the fifties. Ralph burst out scornfully, “56!” +and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off, +pounced on him with 9 x 8. He answered, without drawing breath, 72. +Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy. Ellen, too, rose to the +occasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimes +remember and sometimes not. And then, oh horrors! It was her turn again! +Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mental +arithmetic lesson. She was so startled by the swiftness with which the +question went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly. +And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a +108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x +12. Good gracious! Who could have guessed, from the way they read, they +could do their tables like this! She herself missed on 7 x 7 and was +ready to cry. After this the teacher didn’t call on her at all, but +showered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back with +sickening speed.</p> + +<p>After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, “Well, Betsy, you were right +about your arithmetic. I guess you’d better recite with Eliza for a +while. She’s doing second-grade work. I shouldn’t be surprised if, after +a good review with her, you’d be able to go on with the third-grade +work.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open. She felt +really dizzy. What crazy things the teacher said! She felt as though she +was being pulled limb from limb.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered face.</p> + +<p>“Why—why,” said Elizabeth Ann, “I don’t know what I am at all. If I’m +second-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-grade +spelling, what grade <i>am I</i>?”</p> + +<p>The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase. “<i>you</i> aren’t any grade at +all, no matter where you are in school. You’re just yourself, aren’t +you? What difference does it make what grade you’re in! And what’s the +use of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because you +don’t know your multiplication table?”</p> + +<p>“Well, for goodness’ <i>sakes</i>!” ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very much +as though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter?” asked the teacher again.</p> + +<p>This time Elizabeth Ann didn’t answer, because she herself didn’t know +what the matter was. But I do, and I’ll tell you. The matter was that +never before had she known what she was doing in school. She had always +thought she was there to pass from one grade to another, and she was +ever so startled to get a little glimpse of the fact that she was there +to learn how to read and write and cipher and generally use her mind, so +she could take care of herself when she came to be grown-up. Of course, +she didn’t really know that till she did come to be grown-up, but she +had her first dim notion of it in that moment, and it made her feel the +way you do when you’re learning to skate and somebody pulls away the +chair you’ve been leaning on and says, “Now, go it alone!”</p> + +<p>The teacher waited a minute, and then, when Elizabeth Ann didn’t say +anything more, she rang a little bell. “Recess time,” she said, and as +the children marched out and began putting on their wraps she followed +them into the cloak-room, pulled on a warm, red cap and a red sweater, +and ran outdoors herself. “Who’s on my side!” she called, and the +children came darting out after her. Elizabeth Ann had dreaded the first +recess time with the strange children, but she had no time to feel shy, +for in a twinkling she was on one end of a long rope with a lot of her +schoolmates, pulling with all her might against the teacher and two of +the big boys. Nobody had looked at her curiously, nobody had said +anything to her beyond a loud, “Come on, Betsy!” from Ralph, who was at +the head on their side.</p> + +<p>They pulled and they pulled, digging their feet into the ground and +bracing themselves against the rocks which stuck up out of the +playground. Sometimes the teacher’s side yanked them along by quick +jerks, and then they’d all set their feet hard when Ralph shouted out, +“Now, <i>all together</i>!” and they’d slowly drag the other side back. And all +the time everybody was shouting and yelling together with the +excitement. Betsy was screaming too, and when a wagon passing by stopped +and a big, broad-shouldered farmer jumped down laughing, put the end of +the rope over his shoulder, and just walked off with the whole lot of +them till he had pulled them clear off their feet, Elizabeth Ann found +herself rolling over and over with a breathless, squirming mass of +children, her shrill laughter rising even above the shouts of merriment +of the others. She laughed so she could hardly get up on her feet again, +it was such an unexpected ending to the contest.</p> + +<p>The big farmer was laughing too. “You ain’t so smart as you <i>think</i> you +are, are you!” he jeered at them good-naturedly. Then he started, +yelling “<i>Whoa</i> there!” to his horses, which had begun to walk on. He had +to run after them with all his might, and just climbed into the back of +the wagon and grabbed the reins the very moment they broke into a trot. +The children laughed, and Ralph shouted after him, “Hi, there, Uncle +Nate! Who’s not so smart as he thinks he is, <i>now</i>!” He turned to the +little girls near him. “They ’most got away from him <i>that</i> time!” he +said. “He’s awful foolish about leaving them standing while he’s funning +or something. He thinks he’s awful funny, anyhow. Some day they’ll run +away on him and <i>then</i> where’ll he be?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was thinking to herself that this was one of the queerest +things that had happened to her even in this queer place. Never, why +never once, had any grown-up, passing the playground of the big brick +building, <i>dreamed</i> of such a thing as stopping for a minute to play. They +never even looked at the children, any more than if they were in another +world. In fact she had felt the school was in another world.</p> + +<p>“Ralph, it’s your turn to get the water,” said the teacher, handing him +a pail. “Want to go along?” said Ralph gruffly to Ellen and Betsy. He +led the way and the little girls walked after him. Now that she was out +of a crowd Elizabeth Ann felt all her shyness come down on her like a +black cloud, drying up her mouth and turning her hands and feet cold as +ice. Into one of these cold hands she felt small, warm fingers slide. +She looked down and there was little Molly trotting by her side, turning +her blue eyes up trustfully. “Teacher says I can go with you if you’ll +take care of me,” she said. “She never lets us first-graders go without +somebody bigger to help us over the log.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a big +white-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set foot on it, +but with little Molly’s hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed to +say she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show how +easy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and then—oh, don’t you +wish Aunt Frances could have been there!—Betsy shut her teeth together +hard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As a +matter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, having +done it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. But +nobody knew this, Molly least of all.</p> + +<p>Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dipped +the pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellen +took a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without looking +up. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment, +much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, “Do you like +dolls with yellow hair the best?”</p> + +<p>Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on this +point which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didn’t <i>really</i> +care about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her little +niece.</p> + +<p>“No, <i>I don’t</i>!” answered the little girl emphatically. “I get just sick +and tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! I +like them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!”</p> + +<p>Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. “Oh, so do I!” she said. +“And that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will you +let me play with her some time?”</p> + +<p>“My folks?” said Elizabeth Ann blankly.</p> + +<p>“Why yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry.”</p> + +<p>“Have they got a <i>doll</i>?” said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax of +Putney queerness.</p> + +<p>“Oh my, yes!” said Molly, eagerly. “She’s the one Mrs. Putney had when +she was a little girl. And she’s got the loveliest clothes! She’s in the +hair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down once +when I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a little +girl had come there to live, they’d let her have her down all the time. +I’ll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mine’s got yellow +hair, but she’s real pretty anyhow. If Father’s going to mill that day, +he can leave me there for the morning.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<a id="shut_teeth"></a> +<a href="images/shut_teeth.jpg"> +<img src="images/shut_teeth_sml.jpg" width="350" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and +started across.</span> +</div> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, but +just then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helping +Elizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before.</p> + +<p>They ran along to the little building, and there I’m going to leave +them, because I think I’ve told enough about their school for <i>one</i> while. +It was only a poor, rough, little district school anyway, that no +Superintendent of Schools would have looked at for a minute, except to +sniff.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> +IF YOU DON’T LIKE CONVERSATION IN A BOOK SKIP THIS CHAPTER!</h2> + +<p>Betsy opened the door and was greeted by her kitten, who ran to her, +purring and arching her back to be stroked.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Aunt Abigail, looking up from the pan of apples in her lap, +“I suppose you’re starved, aren’t you? Get yourself a piece of bread and +butter, why don’t you? and have one of these apples.”</p> + +<p>As the little girl sat down by her, munching fast on this provender, she +asked: “What desk did you get?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann thought for a moment, cuddling Eleanor up to her face. “I +think it is the third from the front in the second row.” She wondered +why Aunt Abigail cared. “Oh, I guess that’s your Uncle Henry’s desk. +It’s the one his father had, too. Are there a couple of H. P.’s carved +on it?”</p> + +<p>Betsy nodded.</p> + +<p>“His father carved the H. P. on the lid, so Henry had to put his inside. +I remember the winter he put it there. It was the first season Mother +let me wear real hoop skirts. I sat in the first seat on the third row.”</p> + +<p>Betsy ate her apple more and more slowly, trying to take in what Aunt +Abigail had said. Uncle Henry and <i>his</i> <i>father</i>—why Moses or Alexander the +Great didn’t seem any further back in the mists of time to Elizabeth Ann +than did Uncle Henry’s <i>father</i>! And to think he had been a little boy, +right there at that desk! She stopped chewing altogether for a moment +and stared into space. Although she was only nine years old, she was +feeling a little of the same rapt wonder, the same astonished sense of +the reality of the people who have gone before, which make a first visit +to the Roman Forum such a thrilling event for grown-ups. That very desk!</p> + +<p>After a moment she came to herself, and finding some apple still in her +mouth, went on chewing meditatively. “Aunt Abigail,” she said, “how long +ago was that?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see,” said the old woman, peeling apples with wonderful rapidity. +“I was born in 1844. And I was six when I first went to school. That’s +sixty-six years ago.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann, like all little girls of nine, had very little notion how +long sixty-six years might be. “Was George Washington alive then?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>The wrinkles around Aunt Abigail’s eyes deepened mirthfully, but she did +not laugh as she answered, “No, that was long after he died, but the +schoolhouse was there when he was alive.”</p> + +<p>“It <i>was</i>!” said Betsy, staring, with her teeth set deep in an apple.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed. It was the first house in the valley built of sawed +lumber. You know, when our folks came up here, they had to build all +their houses of logs to begin with.”</p> + +<p>“They <i>did</i>!” cried Betsy, with her mouth full of apple.</p> + +<p>“Why yes, child, what else did you suppose they had to make houses out +of? They had to have something to live in, right off. The sawmills came +later.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know anything about it,” said Betsy. “Tell me about it.”</p> + +<p>“Why you knew, didn’t you—your Aunt Harriet must have told you—about +how our folks came up here from Connecticut in 1763, on horseback! +Connecticut was an old settled place then, compared to Vermont. There +wasn’t anything here but trees and bears and wood-pigeons. I’ve heard +’em say that the wood-pigeons were so thick you could go out after dark +and club ’em out of the trees, just like hens roosting in a hen-house. +There always was cold pigeon-pie in the pantry, just the way we have +doughnuts. And they used bear-grease to grease their boots and their +hair, bears were so plenty. It sounds like good eating, don’t it! But of +course that was just at first. It got quite settled up before long, and +by the time of the Revolution, bears were getting pretty scarce, and +soon the wood-pigeons were all gone.”</p> + +<p>“And the schoolhouse—that schoolhouse where I went today—was that +built <i>then</i>?” Elizabeth Ann found it hard to believe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it used to have a great big chimney and fireplace in it. It was +built long before stoves were invented, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought stoves were <i>always</i> invented!” cried Elizabeth Ann. This +was the most startling and interesting conversation she had ever taken +part in.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed. “Mercy, no, child! Why, <i>I</i> can remember when only +folks that were pretty well off had stoves and real poor people still +cooked over a hearth fire. I always thought it a pity they tore down the +big chimney and fireplace out of the schoolhouse and put in that big, +ugly stove. But folks are so daft over new-fangled things. Well, anyhow, +they couldn’t take away the sun-dial on the window-sill. You want to be +sure to look at that. It’s on the sill of the middle window on the right +hand as you face the teacher’s desk.”</p> + +<p>“Sun-dial,” repeated Betsy. “What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Why to tell the time by, when—”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t they have a clock?” asked the child.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed. “Good gracious, there was only one clock in the +valley for years and years, and that belonged to the Wardons, the rich +people in the village. Everybody had sun-dials cut in their +window-sills. There’s one on the window-sill of our pantry this minute. +Come on, I’ll show it to you.” She got up heavily with her pan of +apples, and trotted briskly, shaking the floor as she went, over to the +stove. “But first just watch me put these on to cook so you’ll know +how.” She set the pan on the stove, poured some water from the +tea-kettle over the apples, and put on a cover. “Now come on into the +pantry.”</p> + +<p>They entered a sweet-smelling, spicy little room, all white paint, and +shelves which were loaded with dishes and boxes and bags and pans of +milk and jars of preserves.</p> + +<p>“There!” said Aunt Abigail, opening the window. “That’s not so good as +the one at school. This only tells when noon is.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stared stupidly at the deep scratch on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you see?” said Aunt Abigail. “When the shadow got to that mark it +was noon. And the rest of the time you guessed by how far it was from +the mark. Let’s see if I can come anywhere near it now.” She looked at it +hard and said: “I guess it’s half-past four.” She glanced back into the +kitchen at the clock and said: “Oh pshaw! It’s ten minutes past five! +Now my grandmother could have told that within five minutes, just by the +place of the shadow. I declare! Sometimes it seems to me that every time +a new piece of machinery comes into the door some of our wits fly out at +the window! Now I couldn’t any more live without matches than I could +fly! And yet they all used to get along all right before they had +matches. Makes me feel foolish to think I’m not smart enough to get +along, if <i>I wanted</i> to, without those little snips of pine and brimstone. +Here, Betsy, take a cooky. It’s against my principles to let a child +leave the pantry without having a cooky. My! it does seem like living +again to have a young one around to stuff!”</p> + +<p>Betsy took the cooky, but went on with the conversation by exclaiming, +“<i>How</i> could <i>any</i>-body get along without matches? You <i>have</i> to have +matches.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail didn’t answer at first. They were back in the kitchen now. +She was looking at the clock again. “See here,” she said; “it’s time I +began getting supper ready. We divide up on the work. Ann gets the +dinner and I get the supper. And everybody gets his own breakfast. Which +would you rather do, help Ann with the dinner, or me with the supper?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had not had the slightest idea of helping anybody with any +meal, but, confronted unexpectedly with the alternative offered, she +made up her mind so quickly that she didn’t want to help Cousin Ann, and +declared so loudly, “Oh, help <i>you</i> with the supper!” that her promptness +made her sound quite hearty and willing. “Well, that’s fine,” said Aunt +Abigail. “We’ll set the table now. But first you would better look at +that apple sauce. I hear it walloping away as though it was boiling too +fast. Maybe you’d better push it back where it won’t cook so fast. There +are the holders, on that hook.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann approached the stove with the holder in her hand and +horror in her heart. Nobody had ever dreamed of asking her to handle hot +things. She looked around dismally at Aunt Abigail, but the old woman +was standing with her back turned, doing something at the kitchen table. +Very gingerly the little girl took hold of the handle of the saucepan, +and very gingerly she shoved it to the back of the stove. And then she +stood still a moment to admire herself. She could do that as well as +anybody!</p> + +<p>“Why,” said Aunt Abigail, as if remembering that Betsy had asked her a +question. “Any man could strike a spark from his flint and steel that he +had for his gun. And he’d keep striking it till it happened to fly out +in the right direction, and you’d catch it in some fluff where it would +start a smoulder, and you’d blow on it till you got a little flame, and +drop tiny bits of shaved-up dry pine in it, and so, little by little, +you’d build your fire up.”</p> + +<p>“But it must have taken forEVER to do that!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you didn’t have to do that more than once in ever so long,” said +Aunt Abigail, briskly. She interrupted her story to say: “Now you put +the silver around, while I cream the potatoes. It’s in that drawer—a +knife, a fork, and two spoons for each place—and the plates and cups +are up there behind the glass doors. We’re going to have hot cocoa again +tonight.” And as the little girl, hypnotized by the other’s casual, +offhand way of issuing instructions, began to fumble with the knives and +forks she went on: “Why, you’d start your fire that way, and then you’d +never let it go out. Everybody that amounted to anything knew how to +bank the hearth fire with ashes at night so it would be sure to last. +And the first thing in the morning, you got down on your knees and poked +the ashes away very carefully till you got to the hot coals. Then you’d +blow with the bellows and drop in pieces of dry pine—don’t forget the +water-glasses—and you’d blow gently till they flared up and the +shavings caught, and there your fire would be kindled again. The napkins +are in the second drawer.”</p> + +<p>Betsy went on setting the table, deep in thought, reconstructing the old +life. As she put the napkins around she said, “But <i>sometimes</i> it must +have gone out ...”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Aunt Abigail, “sometimes it went out, and then one of the +children was sent over to the nearest neighbor to borrow some fire. He’d +take a covered iron pan fastened on to a long hickory stick, and go +through the woods—everything was woods then—to the next house and wait +till they had their fire going and could spare him a pan full of coals; +and then—don’t forget the salt and pepper—he would leg it home as fast +as he could streak it, to get there before the coals went out. Say, +Betsy, I think that apple sauce is ready to be sweetened. You do it, +will you? I’ve got my hands in the biscuit dough. The sugar’s in the +left-hand drawer in the kitchen cabinet.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>my</i>!” cried Betsy, dismayed. “<i>I</i> don’t know how to cook!”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed and put back a strand of curly white hair with the +back of her floury hand. “You know how to stir sugar into your cup of +cocoa, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“But how <i>much</i> shall I put in?” asked Elizabeth Ann, clamoring for exact +instruction so she wouldn’t need to do any thinking for herself.</p> + +<p>“Oh, till it tastes right,” said Aunt Abigail, carelessly. “Fix it to +suit yourself, and I guess the rest of us will like it. Take that big +spoon to stir it with.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann took off the lid and began stirring in sugar, a +teaspoonful at a time, but she soon saw that that made no impression. +She poured in a cupful, stirred it vigorously, and tasted it. Better, +but not quite enough. She put in a tablespoonful more and tasted it, +staring off into space under bended brows as she concentrated her +attention on the taste. It was quite a responsibility to prepare the +apple sauce for a family. It was ever so good, too. But maybe a <i>little</i> +more sugar. She put in a teaspoonful and decided it was just exactly +right!</p> + +<p>“Done?” asked Aunt Abigail. “Take it off, then, and pour it out in that +big yellow bowl, and put it on the table in front of your place. You’ve +made it; you ought to serve it.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t done, is it?” asked Betsy. “That isn’t all you do to make +apple sauce!”</p> + +<p>“What else could you do?” asked Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>“Well...!” said Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised. “I didn’t know it +was so easy to cook!”</p> + +<p>“Easiest thing in the world,” said Aunt Abigail gravely, with the merry +wrinkles around her merry old eyes all creased up with silent fun.</p> + +<p>When Uncle Henry came in from the barn, with old Shep at his heels, and +Cousin Ann came down from upstairs, where her sewing-machine had been +humming like a big bee, they were both duly impressed when told that +Betsy had set the table and made the apple sauce. They pronounced it +very good apple sauce indeed, and each sent his saucer back to the +little girl for a second helping. She herself ate three saucerfuls. Her +own private opinion was that it was the very best apple sauce ever made.</p> + +<p>After supper was over and the dishes washed and wiped, Betsy helping +with the putting-away, the four gathered around the big lamp on the +table with the red cover. Cousin Ann was making some buttonholes in the +shirt-waist she had constructed that afternoon, Aunt Abigail was darning +socks, and Uncle Henry was mending a piece of harness. Shep lay on the +couch and snored until he got so noisy they couldn’t stand it, and +Cousin Ann poked him in the ribs and he woke up snorting and gurgling +and looking around very sheepishly. Every time this happened it made +Betsy laugh. She held Eleanor, who didn’t snore at all, but made the +prettiest little tea-kettle-singing purr deep in her throat, and opened +and sheathed her needle-like claws in Betsy’s dress.</p> + +<p>“Well, how’d you get on at school?” asked Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got your desk,” said Elizabeth Ann, looking at him curiously, at +his gray hair and wrinkled, weather-beaten face, and trying to think +what he must have looked like when he was a little boy like Ralph.</p> + +<p>“So?” said Uncle Henry. “Well, let me tell you that’s a mighty good +desk! Did you notice the deep groove in the top of it?”</p> + +<p>Betsy nodded. She had wondered what that was used for.</p> + +<p>“Well, that was the lead-pencil desk in the old days. When they couldn’t +run down to the store to buy things, because there wasn’t any store to +run to, how do you suppose they got their lead-pencils!” Elizabeth Ann +shook her head, incapable even of a guess. She had never thought before +but that lead-pencils grew in glass show-cases in stores.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” said Uncle Henry, “I’ll tell you. They took a piece off the +lump of lead they made their bullets of, melted it over the fire in the +hearth down at the schoolhouse till it would run like water, and poured +it in that groove. When it cooled off, there was a long streak of solid +lead, about as big as one of our lead-pencils nowadays. They’d break +that up in shorter lengths, and there you’d have your lead-pencils, made +while you wait. Oh, I tell you in the old days folks knew how to take +care of themselves more than now.”</p> + +<p>“Why, weren’t there any stores?” asked Elizabeth Ann. She could not +imagine living without buying things at stores.</p> + +<p>“Where’d they get the things to put in a store in those days?” asked +Uncle Henry, argumentatively. “Every single thing had to be lugged clear +from Albany or from Connecticut on horseback.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t they use wagons?” asked Elizabeth Ann.</p> + +<p>“You can’t run a wagon unless you’ve got a road to run it on, can you?” +asked Uncle Henry. “It was a long, long time before they had any roads. +It’s an awful chore to make roads in a new country all woods and hills +and swamps and rocks. You were lucky if there was a good path from your +house to the next settlement.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Henry,” said Aunt Abigail, “do stop going on about old times long +enough to let Betsy answer the question you asked her. You haven’t given +her a chance to say how she got on at school.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m <i>awfully</i> mixed up!” said Betsy, complainingly. “I don’t know +what I am! I’m second-grade arithmetic and third-grade spelling and +seventh-grade reading and I don’t know what in writing or composition. +We didn’t have those.”</p> + +<p>Nobody seemed to think this very remarkable, or even very interesting. +Uncle Henry, indeed, noted it only to say, “Seventh-grade reading!” He +turned to Aunt Abigail. “Oh, Mother, don’t you suppose she could read +aloud to us evenings?”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail and Cousin Ann both laid down their sewing to laugh! “Yes, +yes, Father, and play checkers with you too, like as not!” They +explained to Betsy: “Your Uncle Henry is just daft on being read aloud +to when he’s got something to do in the evening, and when he hasn’t he’s +as fidgety as a broody hen if he can’t play checkers. Ann hates checkers +and I haven’t got the time, often.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>I love</i> to play checkers!” said Betsy.</p> + +<p>“Well, <i>now</i> ...” said Uncle Henry, rising instantly and dropping his +half-mended harness on the table. “Let’s have a game.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Father!” said Cousin Ann, in the tone she used for Shep. “How about +that piece of breeching! You know that’s not safe. Why don’t you finish +that up first?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry sat down again, looking as Shep did when Cousin Ann told him +to get up on the couch, and took up his needle and awl.</p> + +<p>“But I could read something aloud,” said Betsy, feeling very sorry for +him. “At least I think I could. I never did, except at school.”</p> + +<p>“What shall we have, Mother?” asked Uncle Henry eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. What have we got in this bookcase?” said Aunt +Abigail. “It’s pretty cold to go into the parlor to the other one.” She +leaned forward, ran her fat fore-finger over the worn old volumes, and +took out a battered, blue-covered book. “Scott?”</p> + +<p>“Gosh, yes!” said Uncle Henry, his eyes shining. “The staggit eve!”</p> + +<p>At least that was the way it sounded to Betsy, but when she took the +book and looked where Aunt Abigail pointed she read it correctly, though +in a timid, uncertain voice. She was very proud to think she could +please a grown-up so much as she was evidently pleasing Uncle Henry, but +the idea of reading aloud for people to hear, not for a teacher to +correct, was unheard of.</p> + +<table class='tableclass'> +<tr><td class="tdleft">The Stag at eve had drunk his fill</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">Where danced the moon on Monan’s rill,</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">she began, and it was as though she had stepped into a boat and was +swept off by a strong current. She did not know what all the words +meant, and she could not pronounce a good many of the names, but nobody +interrupted to correct her, and she read on and on, steadied by the +strongly-marked rhythm, drawn forward swiftly from one clanging, +sonorous rhyme to another. Uncle Henry nodded his head in time to the +rise and fall of her voice and now and then stopped his work to look at +her with bright, eager, old eyes. He knew some of the places by heart +evidently, for once in a while his voice would join the little girl’s +for a couplet or two. They chanted together thus:</p> + +<table class='tableclass'> +<tr><td class="tdleft">A moment listened to the cry</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">That thickened as the chase drew nigh,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">Then, as the headmost foes appeared,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">With one brave bound, the copse he cleared.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>At the last line Uncle Henry flung his arm out wide, and the child felt +as though the deer had made his great leap there, before her eyes.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen ’em jump just like that,” broke in Uncle Henry. “A +two-three-hundred-pound stag go up over a four-foot fence just like a +piece of thistledown in the wind.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle Henry,” asked Elizabeth Ann, “what is a copse?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Uncle Henry indifferently. “Something in the woods, +must be. Underbrush most likely. You can always tell words you don’t +know by the sense of the whole thing. Go on.”</p> + +<p class="c">And stretching forward, free and far,</p> + +<p>The child’s voice took up the chant again. She read faster and faster as +it got more exciting. Uncle Henry joined in on</p> + +<table class='tableclass'> +<tr><td class="tdleft">For, jaded now and spent with toil,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">Embossed with foam and dark with soil,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">While every gasp with sobs he drew,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">The laboring stag strained full in view.</td></tr> +</table> +<p>The little girl’s heart beat fast. She fled along through the next +lines, stumbling desperately over the hard words but seeing the headlong +chase through them clearly as through tree-trunks in a forest. Uncle +Henry broke in in a triumphant shout:</p> + +<table class='tableclass'> +<tr><td class="tdleft">The wily quarry shunned the shock</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">And <i>turned</i> him from the opposing rock;</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">Then dashing down a darksome glen,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">Soon lost to hound and hunter’s ken,</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">In the deep Trossach’s wildest nook</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">His solitary refuge took.</td></tr> +</table> +<p>“Oh <i>my</i>!” cried Elizabeth Ann, laying down the book. “He got away, didn’t +he? I was so afraid he wouldn’t!”</p> + +<p>“I can just hear those dogs yelping, can’t you?” said Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p class="c">Yelled on the view the opening pack.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes you hear ’em that way up on the slope of Hemlock Mountain +back of us, when they get to running a deer.”</p> + +<p>“What say we have some pop-corn!” suggested Aunt Abigail. “Betsy, don’t +you want to pop us some?”</p> + +<p>“I never <i>did</i>,” said the little girl, but in a less doubtful tone than +she had ever used with that phrase so familiar to her. A dim notion was +growing up in her mind that the fact that she had never done a thing was +no proof that she couldn’t.</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you,” said Uncle Henry. He reached down a couple of ears from +a big yellow cluster hanging on the wall, and he and Betsy shelled them +into the popper, popped it full of snowy kernels, buttered it, salted +it, and took it back to the table.</p> + +<p>It was just as she was eating her first ambrosial mouthful that the door +opened and a fur-capped head was thrust in. A man’s voice said: +“Evenin’, folks. No, I can’t stay. I was down at the village just now, +and thought I’d ask for any mail down our way.” He tossed a newspaper +and a letter on the table and was gone.</p> + +<p>The letter was addressed to Elizabeth Ann and it was from Aunt Frances. +She read it to herself while Uncle Henry read the newspaper. Aunt +Frances wrote that she had been perfectly horrified to learn that Cousin +Molly had not kept Elizabeth Ann with her, and that she would never +forgive her for that cruelty. And when she thought that her darling was +at Putney Farm...! Her blood ran cold. It positively did! It was too +dreadful. But it couldn’t be helped, for a time anyhow, because Aunt +Harriet was really <i>very</i> sick. Elizabeth Ann would have to be a dear, +brave child and endure it as best she could. And as soon ... oh, as soon +as ever she <i>could</i>, Aunt Frances would come and take her away from them. +“Don’t cry <i>too</i> much, darling ... it breaks my heart to think of you there! +<i>Try</i> to be cheerful, dearest! <i>Try</i> to bear it for the sake of your +distracted, loving Aunt Frances.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann looked up from this letter and across the table at Aunt +Abigail’s rosy, wrinkled old face, bent over her darning. Uncle Henry +laid the paper down, took a big mouthful of pop-corn, and beat time +silently with his hand. When he could speak he murmured: An hundred dogs +bayed deep and strong, Clattered an hundred steeds along.</p> + +<p>Old Shep woke up with a snort and Aunt Abigail fed him a handful of +pop-corn. Little Eleanor stirred in her sleep, stretched, yawned, and +nestled down into a ball again on the little girl’s lap. Betsy could +feel in her own body the rhythmic vibration of the kitten’s contented +purr.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail looked up: “Finished your letter? I hope Harriet is no +worse. What does Frances say?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann blushed a deep red and crushed the letter together in her +hand. She felt ashamed and she did not know why. “Aunt Frances +says, ... Aunt Frances says, ...” she began, hesitating. “She says Aunt +Harriet is still pretty sick.” She stopped, drew a long breath, and went +on, “And she sends her love to you.”</p> + +<p>Now Aunt Frances hadn’t done anything of the kind, so this was a really +whopping fib. But Elizabeth Ann didn’t care if it was. It made her feel +less ashamed, though she did not know why. She took another mouthful of +pop-corn and stroked Eleanor’s back. Uncle Henry got up and stretched. +“It’s time to go to bed, folks,” he said. As he wound the clock Betsy +heard him murmuring:</p> + +<p class="c">But when the sun his beacon red....</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> +ELIZABETH ANN FAILS IN AN EXAMINATION</h2> + +<p>I wonder if you can guess the name of a little girl who, about a month +after this, was walking along through the melting snow in the woods with +a big black dog running circles around her. Yes, all alone in the woods +with a terrible great dog beside her, and yet not a bit afraid. You +don’t suppose it could be Elizabeth Ann? Well, whoever she was, she had +something on her mind, for she walked more and more slowly and had only +a very absent-minded pat for the dog’s head when he thrust it up for a +caress. When the wood road led into a clearing in which there was a +rough little house of slabs, the child stopped altogether, and, looking +down, began nervously to draw lines in the snow with her overshoe.</p> + +<p>You see, something perfectly dreadful had happened in school that day. +The Superintendent, the all-important, seldom-seen Superintendent, came +to visit the school and the children were given some examinations so he +could see how they were getting on.</p> + +<p>Now, you know what an examination did to Elizabeth Ann. Or haven’t I +told you yet?</p> + +<p>Well, if I haven’t, it’s because words fail me. If there is anything +horrid that an examination DIDn’t do to Elizabeth Ann, I have yet to +hear of it. It began years ago, before ever she went to school, when she +heard Aunt Frances talking about how <i>she</i> had dreaded examinations when +she was a child, and how they dried up her mouth and made her ears ring +and her head ache and her knees get all weak and her mind a perfect +blank, so that she didn’t know what two and two made. Of course +Elizabeth Ann didn’t feel <i>all</i> those things right off at her first +examination, but by the time she had had several and had rushed to tell +Aunt Frances about how awful they were and the two of them had +sympathized with one another and compared symptoms and then wept about +her resulting low marks, why, she not only had all the symptoms Aunt +Frances had ever had, but a good many more of her own invention.</p> + +<p>Well, she had had them all and had them hard this afternoon, when the +Superintendent was there. Her mouth had gone dry and her knees had +shaken and her elbows had felt as though they had no more bones in them +than so much jelly, and her eyes had smarted, and oh, what answers she +had made! That dreadful tight panic had clutched at her throat whenever +the Superintendent had looked at her, and she had disgraced herself ten +times over. She went hot and cold to think of it, and felt quite sick +with hurt vanity. She who did so well every day and was so much looked +up to by her classmates, what <i>must</i> they be thinking of her! To tell the +truth, she had been crying as she walked along through the woods, +because she was so sorry for herself. Her eyes were all red still, and +her throat sore from the big lump in it.</p> + +<p>And now she would live it all over again as she told the Putney cousins. +For of course they must be told. She had always told Aunt Frances +everything that happened in school. It happened that Aunt Abigail had +been taking a nap when she got home from school, and so she had come out +to the sap-house, where Cousin Ann and Uncle Henry were making syrup, to +have it over with as soon as possible. She went up to the little slab +house now, dragging her feet and hanging her head, and opened the door.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann, in a very short old skirt and a man’s coat and high rubber +boots, was just poking some more wood into the big fire which blazed +furiously under the broad, flat pan where the sap was boiling. The +rough, brown hut was filled with white steam and that sweetest of all +odors, hot maple syrup. Cousin Ann turned her head, her face very red +with the heat of the fire, and nodded at the child.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Betsy, you’re just in time. I’ve saved out a cupful of hot syrup +for you, all ready to wax.”</p> + +<p>Betsy hardly heard this, although she had been wild about waxed sugar on +snow ever since her very first taste of it. “Cousin Ann,” she said +unhappily, “the Superintendent visited our school this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Did he!” said Cousin Ann, dipping a thermometer into the boiling syrup.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and we had <i>examinations</i>!” said Betsy.</p> + +<p>“Did you?” said Cousin Ann, holding the thermometer up to the light and +looking at it.</p> + +<p>“And you know how perfectly awful examinations make you feel,” said +Betsy, very near to tears again.</p> + +<p>“Why, no,” said Cousin Ann, sorting over syrup tins. “They never made me +feel awful. I thought they were sort of fun.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Fun</i>!” cried Betsy, indignantly, staring through the beginnings of her +tears.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes. Like taking a dare, don’t you know. Somebody stumps you to +jump off the hitching-post, and you do it to show ’em. I always used to +think examinations were like that. Somebody stumps you to spell +‘pneumonia,’ and you do it to show ’em. Here’s your cup of syrup. You’d +better go right out and wax it while it’s hot.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann automatically took the cup in her hand, but she did not +look at it. “But supposing you get so scared you can’t spell ‘pneumonia’ +or anything else!” she said feelingly. “That’s what happened to me. You +know how your mouth gets all dry and your knees ...” She stopped. Cousin +Ann had said she did <i>not</i> know all about those things. “Well, anyhow, I +got so scared I could hardly <i>stand</i> up! And I made the most awful +mistakes—things I know just as <i>well</i>! I spelled ‘doubt’ without any b +and ‘separate’ with an e, and I said Iowa was bounded on the north by +Wisconsin, and I ...”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” said Cousin Ann, “it doesn’t matter if you really know the +right answers, does it? That’s the important thing.”</p> + +<p>This was an idea which had never in all her life entered Betsy’s brain +and she did not take it in at all now. She only shook her head miserably +and went on in a doleful tone. “And I said 13 and 8 are 22! and I wrote +March without any capital M, and I ...”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Betsy, do you <i>want</i> to tell me all this?” Cousin Ann spoke in +the quick, ringing voice she had once in a while which made everybody, +from old Shep up, open his eyes and get his wits about him. Betsy +gathered hers and thought hard; and she came to an unexpected +conclusion. No, she didn’t really want to tell Cousin Ann all about it. +Why was she doing it? Because she thought that was the thing to do. +“Because if you don’t really want to,” went on Cousin Ann, “I don’t see +that it’s doing anybody any good. I guess Hemlock Mountain will stand +right there just the same even if you did forget to put a b in ‘doubt.’ +And your syrup will be too cool to wax right if you don’t take it out +pretty soon.”</p> + +<p>She turned back to stoke the fire, and Elizabeth Ann, in a daze, found +herself walking out of the door. It fell shut after her, and there she +was under the clear, pale-blue sky, with the sun just hovering over the +rim of Hemlock Mountain. She looked up at the big mountains, all blue +and silver with shadows and snow, and wondered what in the world Cousin +Ann had meant. Of course Hemlock Mountain would stand there just the +same. But what of it? What did that have to do with her arithmetic, with +anything? She had failed in her examination, hadn’t she?</p> + +<p>She found a clean white snow-bank under a pine-tree, and, setting her +cup of syrup down in a safe place, began to pat the snow down hard to +make the right bed for the waxing of the syrup. The sun, very hot for +that late March day, brought out strongly the tarry perfume of the big +pine-tree. Near her the sap dripped musically into a bucket, already +half full, hung on a maple-tree. A blue-jay rushed suddenly through the +upper branches of the wood, his screaming and chattering voice sounding +like noisy children at play.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann took up her cup and poured some of the thick, hot syrup +out on the hard snow, making loops and curves as she poured. It +stiffened and hardened at once, and she lifted up a great coil of it, +threw her head back, and let it drop into her mouth. Concentrated +sweetness of summer days was in that mouthful, part of it still hot and +aromatic, part of it icy and wet with melting snow. She crunched it all +together with her strong, child’s teeth into a delicious, big lump and +sucked on it dreamily, her eyes on the rim of Hemlock Mountain, high +above her there, the snow on it bright golden in the sunlight. Uncle +Henry had promised to take her up to the top as soon as the snow went +off. She wondered what the top of a mountain would be like. Uncle Henry +had said the main thing was that you could see so much of the world at +once. He said it was too queer the way your own house and big barn and +great fields looked like little toy things that weren’t of any account. +It was because you could see so much more than just the....</p> + +<p>She heard an imploring whine, and a cold nose was thrust into her hand! +Why, there was old Shep begging for his share of waxed sugar. He loved +it, though it did stick to his teeth so! She poured out another lot and +gave half of it to Shep. It immediately stuck his jaws together tight, +and he began pawing at his mouth and shaking his head till Betsy had to +laugh. Then he managed to pull his jaws apart and chewed loudly and +visibly, tossing his head, opening his mouth wide till Betsy could see +the sticky, brown candy draped in melting festoons all over his big +white teeth and red gullet. Then with a gulp he had swallowed it all +down and was whining for more, striking softly at the little girl’s +skirt with his forepaw. “Oh, you eat it too fast!” cried Betsy, but she +shared her next lot with him too. The sun had gone down over Hemlock +Mountain by this time, and the big slope above her was all deep blue +shadow. The mountain looked much higher now as the dusk began to fall, +and loomed up bigger and bigger as though it reached to the sky. It was +no wonder houses looked small from its top. Betsy ate the last of her +sugar, looking up at the quiet giant there, towering grandly above her. +There was no lump in her throat now. And, although she still thought she +did not know what in the world Cousin Ann meant by saying that about +Hemlock Mountain and her examination, it’s my opinion that she had made +a very good beginning of an understanding.</p> + +<p>She was just picking up her cup to take it back to the sap-house when +Shep growled a little and stood with his ears and tail up, looking down +the road. Something was coming down that road in the blue, clear +twilight, something that was making a very queer noise. It sounded +almost like somebody crying. It <i>was</i> somebody crying! It was a child +crying. It was a little, little girl. ... Betsy could see her +now ... stumbling along and crying as though her heart would break. Why, +it was little Molly, her own particular charge at school, whose reading +lesson she heard every day. Betsy and Shep ran to meet her. “What’s the +matter, Molly? What’s the matter?” Betsy knelt down and put her arms +around the weeping child. “Did you fall down? Did you hurt you? What are +you doing ’way off here? Did you lose your way?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to go away! I don’t want to go away!” said Molly over and +over, clinging tightly to Betsy. It was a long time before Betsy could +quiet her enough to find out what had happened. Then she made out +between Molly’s sobs that her mother had been taken suddenly sick and +had to go away to a hospital, and that left nobody at home to take care +of Molly, and she was to be sent away to some strange relatives in the +city who didn’t want her at all and who said so right out....</p> + +<p>Oh, Elizabeth Ann knew all about that! and her heart swelled big with +sympathy. For a moment she stood again out on the sidewalk in front of +the Lathrop house with old Mrs. Lathrop’s ungracious white head bobbing +from a window, and knew again that ghastly feeling of being unwanted. +Oh, she knew why little Molly was crying! And she shut her hands +together hard and made up her mind that she <i>would</i> help her out!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<a id="whats_matter"></a> +<a href="images/whats_matter.jpg"> +<img src="images/whats_matter_sml.jpg" width="394" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">“What’s the matter, Molly? What’s the matter?”</span> +</div> + +<p>Do you know what she did, right off, without thinking about it? She +didn’t go and look up Aunt Abigail. She didn’t wait till Uncle Henry +came back from his round of emptying sap buckets into the big tub on his +sled. As fast as her feet could carry her she flew back to Cousin Ann in +the sap-house. I can’t tell you (except again that Cousin Ann was Cousin +Ann) why it was that Betsy ran so fast to her and was so sure that +everything would be all right as soon as Cousin Ann knew about it; but +whatever the reason was it was a good one, for, though Cousin Ann did +not stop to kiss Molly or even to look at her more than one sharp first +glance, she said after a moment’s pause, during which she filled a syrup +can and screwed the cover down very tight: “Well, if her folks will let +her stay, how would you like to have Molly come and stay with us till +her mother gets back from the hospital? Now you’ve got a room of your +own, I guess if you wanted to you could have her sleep with you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly!” shouted Betsy, jumping up and down, and then +hugging the little girl with all her might. “Oh, it will be like having +a little sister!”</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann sounded a dry, warning note: “Don’t be too sure her folks +will let her. We don’t know about them yet.”</p> + +<p>Betsy ran to her, and caught her hand, looking up at her with shining +eyes. “Cousin Ann, if <i>you</i> go to see them and ask them, they will!”</p> + +<p>This made even Cousin Ann give a little abashed smile of pleasure, +although she made her face grave again at once and said: “You’d better +go along back to the house now, Betsy. It’s time for you to help Mother +with the supper.”</p> + +<p>The two children trotted back along the darkening wood road, Shep +running before them, little Molly clinging fast to the older child’s +hand. “Aren’t you ever afraid, Betsy, in the woods this way?” she asked +admiringly, looking about her with timid eyes.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” said Betsy, protectingly; “there’s nothing to be afraid of, +except getting off on the wrong fork of the road, near the Wolf Pit.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>ow</i>!” said Molly, cringing. “What’s the Wolf Pit? What an awful +name!”</p> + +<p>Betsy laughed. She tried to make her laugh sound brave like Cousin +Ann’s, which always seemed so scornful of being afraid. As a matter of +fact, she was beginning to fear that they <i>had</i> made the wrong turn, and +she was not quite sure that she could find the way home. But she put +this out of her mind and walked along very fast, peering ahead into the +dusk. “Oh, it hasn’t anything to do with wolves,” she said in answer to +Molly’s question; “anyhow, not now. It’s just a big, deep hole in the +ground where a brook had dug out a cave. ... Uncle Henry told me all +about it when he showed it to me ... and then part of the roof caved in; +sometimes there’s ice in the corner of the covered part all the summer, +Aunt Abigail says.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you call it the Wolf Pit?” asked Molly, walking very close to +Betsy and holding very tightly to her hand.</p> + +<p>“Oh, long, ever so long ago, when the first settlers came up here, they +heard a wolf howling all night, and when it didn’t stop in the morning, +they came up here on the mountain and found a wolf had fallen in and +couldn’t get out.”</p> + +<p>“My! I hope they killed him!” said Molly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, gracious! that was more than a hundred years ago,” said Betsy. She +was not thinking of what she was saying. She was thinking that if they +<i>were</i> on the right road they ought to be home by this time. She was +thinking that the right road ran down hill to the house all the way, and +that this certainly seemed to be going up a little. She was wondering +what had become of Shep. “Stand here just a minute, Molly,” she said. “I +want ... I just want to go ahead a little bit and see ... and see ...” She +darted on around a curve of the road and stood still, her heart sinking. +The road turned there and led straight up the mountain!</p> + +<p>For just a moment the little girl felt a wild impulse to burst out in a +shriek for Aunt Frances, and to run crazily away, anywhere so long as +she was running. But the thought of Molly standing back there, +trustfully waiting to be taken care of, shut Betsy’s lips together hard +before her scream of fright got out. She stood still, thinking. Now she +mustn’t get frightened. All they had to do was to walk back along the +road till they came to the fork and then make the right turn. But what +if they didn’t get back to the turn till it was so dark they couldn’t +see it...? Well, she mustn’t think of that. She ran back, calling, “Come +on, Molly,” in a tone she tried to make as firm as Cousin Ann’s. “I +guess we have made the wrong turn after all. We’d better ...”</p> + +<p>But there was no Molly there. In the brief moment Betsy had stood +thinking, Molly had disappeared. The long, shadowy wood road held not a +trace of her.</p> + +<p>Then Betsy <i>was</i> frightened and then she <i>did</i> begin to scream, at the top +of her voice, “Molly! Molly!” She was beside herself with terror, and +started back hastily to hear Molly’s voice, very faint, apparently +coming from the ground under her feet.</p> + +<p>“Ow! Ow! Betsy! Get me out! Get me out!”</p> + +<p>“Where <i>are</i> you?” shrieked Betsy.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know!” came Molly’s sobbing voice. “I just moved the least +little bit out of the road, and slipped on the ice and began to slide +and I couldn’t stop myself and I fell down into a deep hole!”</p> + +<p>Betsy’s head felt as though her hair were standing up straight on end +with horror. Molly must have fallen down into the Wolf Pit! Yes, they +were quite near it. She remembered now that big white-birch tree stood +right at the place where the brook tumbled over the edge and fell into +it. Although she was dreadfully afraid of falling in herself, she went +cautiously over to this tree, feeling her way with her foot to make sure +she did not slip, and peered down into the cavernous gloom below. Yes, +there was Molly’s little face, just a white speck. The child was crying, +sobbing, and holding up her arms to Betsy.</p> + +<p>“Are you hurt, Molly?”</p> + +<p>“No. I fell into a big snow-bank, but I’m all wet and frozen and I want +to get out! I want to get out!”</p> + +<p>Betsy held on to the birch-tree. Her head whirled. What <i>should</i> she do! +“Look here, Molly,” she called down, “I’m going to run back along to the +right road and back to the house and get Uncle Henry. He’ll come with a +rope and get you out!”</p> + +<p>At this Molly’s crying rose to a frantic scream. “Oh, Betsy, don’t leave +me here alone! Don’t! Don’t! The wolves will get me! Betsy, <i>don’t</i> leave +me alone!” The child was wild with terror.</p> + +<p>“But <i>I can’t</i> get you out myself!” screamed back Betsy, crying herself. +Her teeth were chattering with the cold.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go! Don’t go!” came up from the darkness of the pit in a piteous +howl. Betsy made a great effort and stopped crying. She sat down on a +stone and tried to think. And this is what came into her mind as a +guide: “What would Cousin Ann do if she were here? She wouldn’t cry. She +would <i>think</i> of something.”</p> + +<p>Betsy looked around her desperately. The first thing she saw was the big +limb of a pine-tree, broken off by the wind, which half lay and half +slantingly stood up against a tree a little distance above the mouth of +the pit. It had been there so long that the needles had all dried and +fallen off, and the skeleton of the branch with the broken stubs looked +like ... yes, it looked like a ladder! <i>That</i> was what Cousin Ann would have +done!</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute! Wait a minute, Molly!” she called wildly down the pit, +warm all over in excitement. “Now listen. You go off there in a corner, +where the ground makes a sort of roof. I’m going to throw down something +you can climb up on, maybe.”</p> + +<p>“Ow! Ow, it’ll hit me!” cried poor little Molly, more and more +frightened. But she scrambled off under her shelter obediently, while +Betsy struggled with the branch. It was so firmly imbedded in the snow +that at first she could not budge it at all. But after she cleared that +away and pried hard with the stick she was using as a lever she felt it +give a little. She bore down with all her might, throwing her weight +again and again on her lever, and finally felt the big branch +perceptibly move. After that it was easier, as its course was down hill +over the snow to the mouth of the pit. Glowing, and pushing, wet with +perspiration, she slowly maneuvered it along to the edge, turned it +squarely, gave it a great shove, and leaned over anxiously. Then she +gave a great sigh of relief! Just as she had hoped, it went down sharp +end first and stuck fast in the snow which had saved Molly from broken +bones. She was so out of breath with her work that for a moment she +could not speak. Then, “Molly, there! Now I guess you can climb up to +where I can reach you.”</p> + +<p>Molly made a rush for any way out of her prison, and climbed, like the +little practiced squirrel that she was, up from one stub to another to +the top of the branch. She was still below the edge of the pit there, +but Betsy lay flat down on the snow and held out her hands. Molly took +hold hard, and, digging her toes into the snow, slowly wormed her way up +to the surface of the ground.</p> + +<p>It was then, at that very moment, that Shep came bounding up to them, +barking loudly, and after him Cousin Ann striding along in her rubber +boots, with a lantern in her hand and a rather anxious look on her face.</p> + +<p>She stopped short and looked at the two little girls, covered with snow, +their faces flaming with excitement, and at the black hole gaping behind +them. “I always <i>told</i> Father we ought to put a fence around that pit,” +she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Some day a sheep’s going to fall +down there. Shep came along to the house without you, and we thought +most likely you’d taken the wrong turn.”</p> + +<p>Betsy felt terribly aggrieved. She wanted to be petted and praised for +her heroism. She wanted Cousin Ann to <i>realize</i> ... oh, if Aunt Frances were +only there, <i>she</i> would realize...!</p> + +<p>“I fell down in the hole, and Betsy wanted to go and get Mr. Putney, but +I wouldn’t let her, and so she threw down a big branch and I climbed +out,” explained Molly, who, now that her danger was past, took Betsy’s +action quite as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was how it happened,” said Cousin Ann. She looked down the +hole and saw the big branch, and looked back and saw the long trail of +crushed snow where Betsy had dragged it. “Well, now, that was quite a +good idea for a little girl to have,” she said briefly. “I guess you’ll +do to take care of Molly all right!”</p> + +<p>She spoke in her usual voice and immediately drew the children after +her, but Betsy’s heart was singing joyfully as she trotted along +clasping Cousin Ann’s strong hand. Now she knew that Cousin Ann +realized. ... She trotted fast, smiling to herself in the darkness.</p> + +<p>“What made you think of doing that?” asked Cousin Ann presently, as they +approached the house.</p> + +<p>“Why, I tried to think what <i>you</i> would have done if you’d been there,” +said Betsy.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Cousin Ann. “Well ...”</p> + +<p>She didn’t say another word, but Betsy, glancing up into her face as +they stepped into the lighted room, saw an expression that made her give +a little skip and hop of joy. She had <i>pleased</i> Cousin Ann.</p> + +<p>That night, as she lay in her bed, her arm over Molly cuddled up warm +beside her, she remembered, oh, ever so faintly, as something of no +importance, that she had failed in an examination that afternoon.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> +BETSY STARTS A SEWING SOCIETY</h2> + +<p>Betsy and Molly had taken Deborah to school with them. Deborah was the +old wooden doll with brown, painted curls. She had lain in a trunk +almost ever since Aunt Abigail’s childhood, because Cousin Ann had never +cared for dolls when she was a little girl. At first Betsy had not dared +to ask to see her, much less to play with her, but when Ellen, as she +had promised, came over to Putney Farm that first Saturday she had said +right out, as soon as she landed in the house, “Oh, Mrs. Putney, can’t +we play with Deborah?” And Aunt Abigail had answered: “Why <i>yes</i>, of +course! <i>I knew</i> there was something I’ve kept forgetting!” She went up +with them herself to the cold attic and opened the little hair-trunk +under the eaves.</p> + +<p>There lay a doll, flat on her back, looking up at them brightly out of +her blue eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well, Debby dear,” said Aunt Abigail, taking her up gently. “It’s a +good long time since you and I played under the lilac bushes, isn’t it? +I expect you’ve been pretty lonesome up here all these years. Never you +mind, you’ll have some good times again, now.” She pulled down the +doll’s full, ruffled skirt, straightened the lace at the neck of her +dress, and held her for a moment, looking down at her silently. You +could tell by the way she spoke, by the way she touched Deborah, by the +way she looked at her, that she had loved the doll very dearly, and +maybe still did, a little.</p> + +<p>When she put Deborah into Betsy’s arms, the child felt that she was +receiving something very precious, almost something alive. She and Ellen +looked with delight at the yards and yards of picot-edged ribbon, sewed +on by hand to the ruffles of the skirt, and lifted up the silk folds to +admire the carefully made, full petticoats and frilly drawers, the +pretty, soft old kid shoes and white stockings. Aunt Abigail looked at +them with an absent smile on her lips, as though she were living over +old scenes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<a id="old_doll"></a> +<a href="images/old_doll.jpg"> +<img src="images/old_doll_sml.jpg" width="430" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Betsy and Ellen and the old doll.</span> +</div> + +<p>Finally, “It’s too cold to play up here,” she said, coming to herself +with a long breath. “You’d better bring Deborah and the trunk down into +the south room.” She carried the doll, and Betsy and Ellen each took an +end of the old trunk, no larger than a modern suitcase. They settled +themselves on the big couch, back of the table with the lamp. Old Shep +was on it, but Betsy coaxed him off by putting down some bones Cousin +Ann had been saving for him. When he finished those and came back for +the rest of his snooze, he found his place occupied by the little girls, +sitting cross-legged, examining the contents of the trunk, all spread +out around them. Shep sighed deeply and sat down with his nose resting +on the couch near Betsy’s knee, following all their movements with his +kind, dark eyes. Once in a while Betsy stopped hugging Deborah or +exclaiming over a new dress long enough to pat Shep’s head and fondle +his ears. This was what he was waiting for, and every time she did it he +wagged his tail thumpingly against the floor.</p> + +<p>After that Deborah and her trunk were kept downstairs where Betsy could +play with her. And often she was taken to school. You never heard of +such a thing as taking a doll to school, did you? Well, I told you this +was a queer, old-fashioned school that any modern School Superintendent +would sniff at. As a matter of fact, it was not only Betsy who took her +doll to school; all the little girls did, whenever they felt like it. +Miss Benton, the teacher, had a shelf for them in the entry-way where +the wraps were hung, and the dolls sat on it and waited patiently all +through lessons. At recess time or nooning each little mother snatched +her own child and began to play. As soon as it grew warm enough to play +outdoors without just racing around every minute to keep from freezing +to death, the dolls and their mothers went out to a great pile of rocks +at one end of the bare, stony field which was the playground.</p> + +<p>There they sat and played in the spring sunshine, warmer from day to +day. There were a great many holes and shelves and pockets and little +caves in the rocks which made lovely places for playing keep-house. Each +little girl had her own particular cubby-holes and “rooms,” and they +“visited” their dolls back and forth all around the pile. And as they +played they talked very fast about all sorts of things, being little +girls and not boys who just yelled and howled inarticulately as they +played ball or duck-on-a-rock or prisoner’s goal, racing and running and +wrestling noisily all around the rocks.</p> + +<p>There was one child who neither played with the girls nor ran and +whooped with the boys. This was little six-year-old ’Lias, one of the +two boys in Molly’s first grade. At recess time he generally hung about +the school door by himself, looking moodily down and knocking the toe of +his ragged, muddy shoe against a stone. The little girls were talking +about him one day as they played. “My! Isn’t that ’Lias Brewster the +horridest-looking child!” said Eliza, who had the second grade all to +herself, although Molly now read out of the second reader with her.</p> + +<p>“Mercy, yes! So ragged!” said Anastasia Monahan, called Stashie for +short. She was a big girl, fourteen years old, who was in the seventh +grade.</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t look as if he <i>ever</i> combed his hair!” said Betsy. “It looks +just like a wisp of old hay.”</p> + +<p>“And sometimes,” little Molly proudly added her bit to the talk of the +older girls, “he forgets to put on any stockings and just has his +dreadful old shoes on over his dirty, bare feet.”</p> + +<p>“I guess he hasn’t <i>got</i> any stockings half the time,” said big Stashie +scornfully. “I guess his stepfather drinks ’em up.”</p> + +<p>“How <i>can</i> he drink up stockings!” asked Molly, opening her round eyes +very wide.</p> + +<p>“Sh! You mustn’t ask. Little girls shouldn’t know about such things, +should they, Betsy?”</p> + +<p>“No <i>indeed</i>,” said Betsy, looking mysterious. As a matter of fact, she +herself had no idea what Stashie meant, but she looked wise and said +nothing.</p> + +<p>Some of the boys had squatted down near the rocks for a game of marbles +now.</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow,” said Molly resentfully, “I don’t care what his +stepfather does to his stockings. I wish ’Lias would wear ’em to school. +And lots of times he hasn’t anything on under those horrid old overalls +either! I can see his bare skin through the torn places.”</p> + +<p>“I wish he didn’t have to sit so near me,” said Betsy complainingly. +“He’s <i>so</i> dirty.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t want him near <i>me</i>, either!” cried all the other little +girls at once. Ralph glanced up at them frowning, from where he knelt +with his middle finger crooked behind a marble ready for a shot. He +looked as he always did, very rough and half-threatening. “Oh, you girls +make me sick!” he said. He sent his marble straight to the mark, +pocketed his opponent’s, and stood up, scowling at the little mothers. +“I guess if you had to live the way he does you’d be dirty! Half the +time he don’t get anything to eat before he comes to school, and if my +mother didn’t put up some extra for him in my box he wouldn’t get any +lunch either. And then you go and jump on him!”</p> + +<p>“Why doesn’t his own mother put up his lunch?” Betsy challenged their +critic.</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t got any mother. She’s dead,” said Ralph, turning away with +his hands in his pockets. He yelled to the boys, “Come on, fellers, +beat-che to the bridge and back!” and was off, with the others racing at +his heels.</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, I don’t care; he <i>is</i> dirty and horrid!” said Stashie +emphatically, looking over at the drooping, battered little figure, +leaning against the school door, listlessly kicking at a stone.</p> + +<p>But Betsy did not say anything more just then.</p> + +<p>The teacher, who “boarded ’round,” was staying at Putney Farm at that +time, and that evening, as they all sat around the lamp in the south +room, Betsy looked up from her game of checkers with Uncle Henry and +asked, “How can anybody drink up stockings?”</p> + +<p>“Mercy, child! what are you talking about?” asked Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>Betsy repeated what Anastasia Monahan had said, and was flattered by the +instant, rather startled attention given her by the grown-ups. “Why, I +didn’t know that Bud Walker had taken to drinking again!” said Uncle +Henry. “My! That’s too bad!”</p> + +<p>“Who takes care of that child anyhow, now that poor Susie is dead?” Aunt +Abigail asked of everybody in general.</p> + +<p>“Is he just living there <i>alone</i>, with that good-for-nothing stepfather? +How do they get enough to <i>eat</i>?” said Cousin Ann, looking troubled.</p> + +<p>Apparently Betsy’s question had brought something half forgotten and +altogether neglected into their minds. They talked for some time after +that about ’Lias, the teacher confirming what Betsy and Stashie had +said.</p> + +<p>“And we sitting right here with plenty to eat and never raising a hand!” +cried Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>“How you <i>will</i> let things slip out of your mind!” said Cousin Ann +remorsefully.</p> + +<p>It struck Betsy vividly that ’Lias was not at all the one they blamed +for his objectionable appearance. She felt quite ashamed to go on with +the other things she and the little girls had said, and fell silent, +pretending to be very much absorbed in her game of checkers.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” said Aunt Abigail suddenly, as though an inspiration had +just struck her, “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that Elmore Pond +might adopt ’Lias if he was gone at the right way.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s Elmore Pond?” asked the schoolteacher.</p> + +<p>“Why, you must have seen him—that great, big, red-faced, +good-natured-looking man that comes through here twice a year, buying +stock. He lives over Bigby way, but his wife was a Hillsboro girl, Matey +Pelham—an awfully nice girl she was, too. They never had any children, +and Matey told me the last time she was back for a visit that she and +her husband talked quite often about adopting a little boy. Seems that +Mr. Pond has always wanted a little boy. He’s such a nice man! ’Twould +be a lovely home for a child.”</p> + +<p>“But goodness!” said the teacher. “Nobody would want to adopt such an +awful-looking little ragamuffin as that ’Lias. He looks so meeching, +too. I guess his stepfather is real mean to him, when he’s been +drinking, and it’s got ’Lias so he hardly dares hold his head up.”</p> + +<p>The clock struck loudly. “Well, hear that!” said Cousin Ann. “Nine +o’clock and the children not in bed! Molly’s most asleep this minute. +Trot along with you, Betsy! Trot along, Molly. And, Betsy, be sure +Molly’s nightgown is buttoned up all the way.”</p> + +<p>So it happened that, although the grown-ups were evidently going on to +talk about ’Lias Brewster, Betsy heard no more of what they said.</p> + +<p>She herself went on thinking about ’Lias while she was undressing and +answering absently little Molly’s chatter. She was thinking about him +even after they had gone to bed, had put the light out, and were lying +snuggled up to each other, back to front, their four legs, crooked at +the same angle, fitting in together neatly like two spoons in a drawer. +She was thinking about him when she woke up, and as soon as she could +get hold of Cousin Ann she poured out a new plan. She had never been +afraid of Cousin Ann since the evening Molly had fallen into the Wolf +Pit and Betsy had seen that pleased smile on Cousin Ann’s firm lips. +“Cousin Ann, couldn’t we girls at school get together and sew—you’d +have to help us some—and make some nice, new clothes for little ’Lias +Brewster, and fix him up so he’ll look better, and maybe that Mr. Pond +will like him and adopt him?”</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann listened attentively and nodded her head. “Yes, I think that +would be a good idea,” she said. “We were thinking last night we ought +to do something for him. If you’ll make the clothes, Mother’ll knit him +some stockings and Father will get him some shoes. Mr. Pond never makes +his spring trip till late May, so we’ll have plenty of time.”</p> + +<p>Betsy was full of importance that day at school and at recess time got +the girls together on the rocks and told them all about the plan. +“Cousin Ann says she’ll help us, and we can meet at our house every +Saturday afternoon till we get them done. It’ll be fun! Aunt Abigail +telephoned down to the store right away, and Mr. Wilkins says he’ll give +the cloth if we’ll make it up.”</p> + +<p>Betsy spoke very grandly of “making it up,” although she had hardly held +a needle in her life, and when the Saturday afternoon meetings began she +was ashamed to see how much better Ellen and even Eliza could sew than +she. To keep her end up, she was driven to practising her stitches +around the lamp in the evenings, with Aunt Abigail keeping an eye on +her.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann supervised the sewing on Saturday afternoons and taught those +of the little girls whose legs were long enough how to use the sewing +machine. First they made a little pair of trousers out of an old gray +woolen skirt of Aunt Abigail’s. This was for practice, before they cut +into the piece of new blue serge that the storekeeper had sent up. +Cousin Ann showed them how to pin the pattern on the goods and they each +cut out one piece. Those flat, queer-shaped pieces of cloth certainly +did look less like a pair of trousers to Betsy than anything she had +ever seen. Then one of the girls read aloud very slowly the +mysterious-sounding directions from the wrapper of the pattern about how +to put the pieces together, Cousin Ann helped here a little, +particularly just as they were about to put the sections together +wrong-side-up. Stashie, as the oldest, did the first basting, putting +the notches together carefully, just as they read the instructions +aloud, and there, all of a sudden, was a rough little sketch of a pair +of knee trousers, without any hem or any waist-band, of course, but just +the two-legged, complicated shape they ought to be! It was like a +miracle to Betsy! Then Cousin Ann helped them sew the seams on the +machine, and they all turned to for the basting of the facings and the +finishing. They each made one buttonhole. It was the first one Betsy had +ever made, and when she got through she was as tired as though she had +run all the way to school and back. Tired, but very proud; although when +Cousin Ann inspected that buttonhole, she covered her face with her +handkerchief for a minute, as though she were going to sneeze, although +she didn’t sneeze at all.</p> + +<p>It took them two Saturdays to finish up that trial pair of trousers, and +when they showed the result to Aunt Abigail she was delighted. “Well, to +think of that being my old skirt!” she said, putting on her spectacles +to examine the work. She did not laugh, either, when she saw those +buttonholes, but she got up hastily and went into the next room, where +they soon heard her coughing.</p> + +<p>Then they made a little blouse out of some new blue gingham. Cousin Ann +happened to have enough left over from a dress she was making. This thin +material was ever so much easier to manage than the gray flannel, and +they had the little garment done in no time, even to the buttons and +buttonholes. When it came to making the buttonholes, Cousin Ann sat +right down with each one and supervised every stitch. You may not be +surprised to know that they were a great improvement over the first +batch.</p> + +<p>Then, making a great ceremony of it, they began on the store material, +working twice a week now, because May was slipping along very fast, and +Mr. Pond might be there at any time. They knew pretty well how to go +ahead on this one, after the experience of their first pair, and Cousin +Ann was not much needed, except as adviser in hard places. She sat there +in the room with them, doing some sewing of her own, so quiet that half +the time they forgot she was there. It was great fun, sewing all +together and chattering as they sewed.</p> + +<p>A good deal of the time they talked about how splendid it was of them to +be so kind to little ’Lias. “My! I don’t believe most girls would put +themselves out this way for a dirty little boy!” said Stashie, +complacently.</p> + +<p>“No <i>indeed</i>!” chimed in Betsy. “It’s just like a story, isn’t it—working +and sacrificing for the poor!”</p> + +<p>“I guess he’ll thank us all right for sure!” said Ellen. “He’ll never +forget us as long as he lives, I don’t suppose.”</p> + +<p>Betsy, her imagination fired by this suggestion, said, “I guess when +he’s grown-up he’ll be telling everybody about how, when he was so poor +and ragged, Stashie Monahan and Ellen Peters and Elizabeth Ann ...”</p> + +<p>“And Eliza!” put in that little girl hastily, very much afraid she would +not be given her due share of the glory.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann sewed, and listened, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of May two little blouses, two pairs of trousers, two +pairs of stockings, two sets of underwear (contributed by the teacher), +and the pair of shoes Uncle Henry gave were ready. The little girls +handled the pile of new garments with inexpressible pride, and debated +just which way of bestowing them was sufficiently grand to be worthy the +occasion. Betsy was for taking them to school and giving them to ’Lias +one by one, so that each child could have her thanks separately. But +Stashie wanted to take them to the house when ’Lias’s stepfather would +be there, and shame him by showing that little girls had had to do what +he ought to have done.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann broke into the discussion by asking, in her quiet, firm +voice, “Why do you want ’Lias to know where the clothes come from?”</p> + +<p>They had forgotten again that she was there, and turned around quickly +to stare at her. Nobody could think of any answer to her very queer +question. It had not occurred to any one that there could <i>be</i> such a +question.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann shifted her ground and asked another: “Why did you make these +clothes, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>They stared again, speechless. Why did she ask that? She knew why.</p> + +<p>Finally little Molly said, in her honest, baby way, “Why, <i>you</i> know why, +Miss Ann! So ’Lias Brewster will look nice, and Mr. Pond will maybe +adopt him.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Cousin Ann, “what has that got to do with ’Lias knowing who +did it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, he wouldn’t know who to be grateful to,” cried Betsy.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Cousin Ann. “Oh, I see. You didn’t do it to help ’Lias. You +did it to have him grateful to you. I see. Molly is such a little girl, +it’s no wonder she didn’t really take in what you girls were up to.” She +nodded her head wisely, as though now she understood.</p> + +<p>But if she did, little Molly certainly did not. She had not the least +idea what everybody was talking about. She looked from one sober, +downcast face to another rather anxiously. What was the matter?</p> + +<p>Apparently nothing was really the matter, she decided, for after a +minute’s silence Miss Ann got up with entirely her usual face of +cheerful gravity, and said: “Don’t you think you little girls ought to +top off this last afternoon with a tea-party? There’s a new batch of +cookies, and you can make yourselves some lemonade if you want to.”</p> + +<p>They had these refreshments out on the porch, in the sunshine, with +their dolls for guests and a great deal of chatter for sauce. Nobody +said another word about how to give the clothes to ’Lias, till, just as +the girls were going away, Betsy said, walking along with the two older +ones, “Say, don’t you think it’d be fun to go some evening after dark +and leave the clothes on ’Lias’s doorstep, and knock and run away quick +before anybody comes to the door?” She spoke in an uncertain voice and +smoothed Deborah’s carved wooden curls.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do!” said Ellen, not looking at Betsy but down at the weeds by +the road. “I think it would be lots of fun!”</p> + +<p>Little Molly, playing with Annie and Eliza, did not hear this; but she +was allowed to go with the older girls on the great expedition.</p> + +<p>It was a warm, dark evening in late May, with the frogs piping their +sweet, high note, and the first of the fireflies wheeling over the wet +meadows near the tumble-down house where ’Lias lived. The girls took +turns in carrying the big paper-wrapped bundle, and stole along in the +shadow of the trees, full of excitement, looking over their shoulders at +nothing and pressing their hands over their mouths to keep back the +giggles. There was, of course, no reason on earth why they should +giggle, which is, of course, the very reason why they did. If you’ve +ever been a little girl you know about that.</p> + +<p>One window of the small house was dimly lighted, they found, when they +came in sight of it, and they thrilled with excitement and joyful alarm. +Suppose ’Lias’s dreadful stepfather should come out and yell at them! +They came forward on tiptoe, making a great deal of noise by stepping on +twigs, rustling bushes, crackling gravel under their feet and doing all +the other things that make such a noise at night and never do in the +daytime. But nobody stirred inside the room with the lighted window. +They crept forward and peeped cautiously inside ... and stopped giggling. +The dim light coming from a little kerosene lamp with a smoky chimney +fell on a dismal, cluttered room, a bare, greasy wooden table, and two +broken-backed chairs, with little ’Lias in one of them. He had fallen +asleep with his head on his arms, his pinched, dirty, sad little figure +showing in the light from the lamp. His feet dangled high above the +floor in their broken, muddy shoes. One sleeve was torn to the shoulder. +A piece of dry bread had slipped from his bony little hand and a tin +dipper stood beside him on the bare table. Nobody else was in the room, +nor evidently in the darkened, empty, fireless house.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<a id="fallen_asleep"></a> +<a href="images/fallen_asleep.jpg"> +<img src="images/fallen_asleep_sml.jpg" width="375" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms.</span> +</div> + +<p>As long as she lives Betsy will never forget what she saw that night +through that window. Her eyes grew very hot and her hands very cold. Her +heart thumped hard. She reached for little Molly and gave her a great +hug in the darkness. Suppose it were little Molly asleep there, all +alone in the dirty, dismal house, with no supper and nobody to put her +to bed. She found that Ellen, next her, was crying quietly into the +corner of her apron.</p> + +<p>Nobody said a word. Stashie, who had the bundle, walked around soberly +to the front door, put it down, and knocked loudly. They all darted away +noiselessly to the road, to the shadow of the trees, and waited until +the door opened. A square of yellow light appeared, with ’Lias’s figure, +very small, at the bottom of it. They saw him stoop and pick up the +bundle and go back into the house. Then they went quickly and silently +back, separating at the cross-roads with no good-night greetings.</p> + +<p>Molly and Betsy began to climb the hill to Putney Farm. It was a very +warm night for May, and little Molly began to puff for breath. “Let’s +sit down on this rock awhile and rest,” she said.</p> + +<p>They were half-way up the hill now. From the rock they could see the +lights in the farmhouses scattered along the valley road and on the side +of the mountain opposite them, like big stars fallen from the multitude +above. Betsy lay down on the rock and looked up at the stars. After a +silence little Molly’s chirping voice said, “Oh, I thought you said we +were going to march up to ’Lias in school and give him his clothes. Did +you forget about that?”</p> + +<p>Betsy gave a wriggle of shame as she remembered that plan. “No, we +didn’t forget it,” she said. “We thought this would be a better way.”</p> + +<p>“But how’ll ’Lias know who to thank?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“That’s no matter,” said Betsy. Yes, it was Elizabeth-Ann-that-was who +said that. And meant it, too. She was not even thinking of what she was +saying. Between her and the stars, thick over her in the black, soft +sky, she saw again that dirty, disordered room and the little boy, all +alone, asleep with a piece of dry bread in his bony little fingers.</p> + +<p>She looked hard and long at that picture, all the time seeing the quiet +stars through it. And then she turned over and hid her face on the rock. +She had said her “Now I lay me” every night since she could remember, +but she had never prayed till she lay there with her face on the rock, +saying over and over, “Oh, God, please, please, <i>please</i> make Mr. Pond +adopt ’Lias.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> +THE NEW CLOTHES FAIL</h2> + +<p>All the little girls went early to school the next day, eager for the +first glimpse of ’Lias in his new clothes. They now quite enjoyed the +mystery about who had made them, and were full of agreeable excitement +as the little figure was seen approaching down the road. He wore the +gray trousers and the little blue shirt; the trousers were a little too +long, the shirt a perfect fit. The girls gazed at him with pride as he +came on the playground, walking briskly along in the new shoes, which +were just the right size. He had been wearing all winter a pair of +cast-off women’s shoes. From a distance he looked like another child. +But as he came closer ... oh! his face! his hair! his hands! his +finger-nails! The little fellow had evidently tried to live up to his +beautiful new raiment, for his hair had been roughly put back from his +face, and around his mouth and nose was a small area of almost clean +skin, where he had made an attempt at washing his face. But he had made +practically no impression on the layers of encrusted dirt, and the +little girls looked at him ruefully. Mr. Pond would certainly never take +a fancy to such a dreadfully grimy child! His new, clean clothes made +him look all the worse, as though dirty on purpose!</p> + +<p>The little girls retired to their rock-pile and talked over their bitter +disappointment, Ralph and the other boys absorbed in a game of marbles +near them. ’Lias had gone proudly into the schoolroom to show himself to +Miss Benton.</p> + +<p>It was the day before Decoration Day and a good deal of time was taken +up with practising on the recitations they were going to give at the +Decoration Day exercises in the village. Several of the children from +each school in the township were to speak pieces in the Town Hall. Betsy +was to recite <i>Barbara</i> <i>Frietchie</i> , her first love in that school, but she +droned it over with none of her usual pleasure, her eyes on little +’Lias’s smiling face, so unconscious of its dinginess.</p> + +<p>At noon time the boys disappeared down toward the swimming-hole. They +often took a swim at noon and nobody thought anything about it on that +day. The little girls ate their lunch on their rock, mourning over the +failure of their plans, and scheming ways to meet the new obstacle. +Stashie suggested, “Couldn’t your Aunt Abigail invite him up to your +house for supper and then give him a bath afterward?” But Betsy, +although she had never heard of treating a supper-guest in this way, was +sure that it was not possible. She shook her head sadly, her eyes on the +far-off gleam of white where the boys jumped up and down in their +swimming-hole. That was not a good name for it, because there was only +one part of it deep enough to swim in. Mostly it was a shallow bay in an +arm of the river, where the water was only up to a little boy’s knees +and where there was almost no current. The sun beating down on it made +it quite warm, and even the first-graders’ mothers allowed them to go +in. They only jumped up and down and squealed and splashed each other, +but they enjoyed that quite as much as Frank and Harry, the two +seventh-graders, enjoyed their swooping dives from the spring-board over +the pool. They were late in getting back from the river that day and +Miss Benton had to ring her bell hard in that direction before they came +trooping up and clattered into the schoolroom, where the girls already +sat, their eyes lowered virtuously to their books, with a prim air of +self-righteousness. <i>They</i> were never late!</p> + +<p>Betsy was reciting her arithmetic. She was getting on famously with +that. Weeks ago, as soon as Miss Benton had seen the confusion of the +little girl’s mind, the two had settled down to a serious struggle with +that subject. Miss Benton had had Betsy recite all by herself, so she +wouldn’t be flurried by the others; and to begin with had gone back, +back, back to bedrock, to things Betsy absolutely knew, to the 2x2’s and +the 3x3’s. And then, very cautiously, a step at a time, they had +advanced, stopping short whenever Betsy felt a beginning of that +bewildered “guessing” impulse which made her answer wildly at random.</p> + +<p>After a while, in the dark night which arithmetic had always been to +her, Betsy began to make out a few definite outlines, which were always +there, facts which she knew to be so without guessing from the +expression of her teacher’s face. From that moment her progress had been +rapid, one sure fact hooking itself on to another, and another one on to +that. She attacked a page of problems now with a zest and +self-confidence which made her arithmetic lessons among the most +interesting hours at school. On that day she was standing up at the +board, a piece of chalk in her hand, chewing her tongue and thinking +hard how to find out the amount of wall-paper needed for a room 12 feet +square with two doors and two windows in it, when her eye fell on little +’Lias, bent over his reading book. She forgot her arithmetic, she forgot +where she was. She stared and stared, till Ellen, catching the direction +of her eyes, looked and stared too. Little ’Lias was <i>clean</i>, +preternaturally, almost wetly clean. His face was clean and shining, his +ears shone pink and fair, his hands were absolutely spotless, even his +hay-colored hair was clean and, still damp, brushed flatly back till it +shone in the sun. Betsy blinked her eyes a great many times, thinking +she must be dreaming, but every time she opened them there was ’Lias, +looking white and polished like a new willow whistle.</p> + +<p>Somebody poked her hard in the ribs. She started and, turning, saw +Ralph, who was doing a sum beside her on the board, scowling at her +under his black brows. “Quit gawking at ’Lias,” he said under his +breath. “You make me tired!” Something conscious and shame-faced in his +manner made Betsy understand at once what had happened. Ralph had taken +’Lias down to the little boys’ wading-place and had washed him all over. +She remembered now that they had a piece of yellow soap there.</p> + +<p>Her face broke into a radiant smile and she began to say something to +Ralph about how nice that was of him, but he frowned again and said, +crossly, “Aw, cut it out! Look at what you’ve done there! If I couldn’t +9 x 8 and get it right!”</p> + +<p>“How queer boys are!” thought Betsy, erasing her mistake and putting +down the right answer. But she did not try to speak to Ralph again about +’Lias, not even after school, when she saw ’Lias going home with a new +cap on his head which she recognized as Ralph’s. She just looked at +Ralph’s bare head, and smiled her eyes at him, keeping the rest of her +face sober, the way Cousin Ann did. For just a minute Ralph almost +smiled back. At least he looked quite friendly. They stepped along +toward home together, the first time Ralph had ever condescended to walk +beside a girl.</p> + +<p>“We got a new colt,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Have you?” she said. “What color?”</p> + +<p>“Black, with a white star, and they’re going to let me ride him when +he’s old enough.”</p> + +<p>“My! Won’t that be nice!” said Betsy.</p> + +<p>And all the time they were both thinking of little ’Lias with his new +clothes and his sweet, thin face shining with cleanliness.</p> + +<p>“Do you like spruce gum?” asked Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>I love</i> gum!” said Betsy.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll bring you down a chunk tomorrow, if I don’t forget it,” said +Ralph, turning off at the cross-roads.</p> + +<p>They had not mentioned ’Lias at all.</p> + +<p>The next day they were to have school only in the morning. In the +afternoon they were to go in a big hay-wagon down to the village to the +“exercises.” ’Lias came to school in his new blue-serge trousers and his +white blouse. The little girls gloated over his appearance, and hung +around him, for who was to “visit school” that morning but Mr. Pond +himself! Cousin Ann had arranged it somehow. It took Cousin Ann to fix +things! During recess, as they were playing still-pond-no-more-moving on +the playground, Mr. Pond and Uncle Henry drew up to the edge of the +playground, stopped their horse, and, talking and laughing together, +watched the children at play. Betsy looked hard at the big, burly, +kind-faced man with the smiling eyes and the hearty laugh, and decided +that he would “do” perfectly for ’Lias. But what she decided was to have +little importance, apparently, for after all he would not get out of the +wagon, but said he’d have to drive right on to the village. Just like +that, with no excuse other than a careless glance at his watch. No, he +guessed he wouldn’t have time, this morning, he said. Betsy cast an +imploring look up into Uncle Henry’s face, but evidently he felt himself +quite helpless, too. Oh, if only Cousin Ann had come! <i>She</i> would have +marched him into the schoolhouse double-quick. But Uncle Henry was not +Cousin Ann, and though Betsy saw him, as they drove away, +conscientiously point out little ’Lias, resplendent and shining, Mr. +Pond only nodded absently, as though, he were thinking of something +else.</p> + +<p>Betsy could have cried with disappointment; but she and the other girls, +putting their heads together for comfort, told each other that there was +time enough yet. Mr. Pond would not leave town till tomorrow. +Perhaps ... there was still some hope.</p> + +<p>But that afternoon even this last hope was dashed. As they gathered at +the schoolhouse, the girls fresh and crisp in their newly starched +dresses, with red or blue hair-ribbons, the boys very self-conscious in +their dark suits, clean collars, new caps (all but Ralph), and blacked +shoes, there was no little ’Lias. They waited and waited, but there was +no sign of him. Finally Uncle Henry, who was to drive the straw-ride +down to town, looked at his watch, gathered up the reins, and said they +would be late if they didn’t start right away. Maybe ’Lias had had a +chance to ride in with somebody else.</p> + +<p>They all piled in, the horses stepped off, the wheels grated on the +stones. And just at that moment a dismal sound of sobbing wails reached +them from the woodshed back of the schoolhouse. The children tumbled out +as fast as they had tumbled in, and ran back, Betsy and Ralph at their +head. There in the woodshed was little ’Lias, huddled in the corner +behind some wood, crying and crying and crying, digging his fists into +his eyes, his face all smeared with tears and dirt. And he was dressed +again in his filthy, torn old overalls and ragged shirt. His poor little +bare feet shone with a piteous cleanliness in that dark place.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” the children asked him all at +once. He flung himself on Ralph, burying his face in the other boy’s +coat, and sobbed out some disjointed story which only Ralph could +hear ... and then as last and final climax of the disaster, who should +come looking over the shoulders of the children but Uncle Henry <i>and</i> Mr. +Pond! And ’Lias all ragged and dirty again! Betsy sat down weakly on a +pile of wood, utterly disheartened. What was the use of anything!</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked the two men together.</p> + +<p>Ralph turned, with an angry toss of his dark head, and told them +bitterly, over the heads of the children: “He just had some decent +clothes. ... First ones he’s <i>ever</i> had! And he was plotting on going to +the exercises in the Town Hall. And that darned old skunk of a +stepfather has gone and taken ’em and sold ’em to get whiskey. I’d like +to <i>kill</i> him!”</p> + +<p>Betsy could have flung her arms around Ralph, he looked so exactly the +way she felt. “Yes, he is a darned old skunk!” she said to herself, +rejoicing in the bad words she did not know before. It <i>took</i> bad words to +qualify what had happened.</p> + +<p>She saw an electric spark pass from Ralph’s blazing eyes to Mr. Pond’s +broad face, now grim and fierce. She saw Mr. Pond step forward, brushing +the children out of his way, like a giant among dwarfs. She saw him +stoop and pick little ’Lias up in his great, strong arms, and, holding +him close, stride furiously out of the woodshed, across the playground +to the buggy which was waiting for him.</p> + +<p>“He’ll go to the exercises all right!” he called back over his shoulder +in a great roar. “He’ll go, if I have to buy out the whole town to get +him an outfit! And that whelp won’t get these clothes, either; you hear +me say so!”</p> + +<p>He sprang into the buggy and, holding ’Lias on his lap, took up the +reins and drove rapidly forward.</p> + +<p>They saw little ’Lias again, entering the Town Hall, holding fast to Mr. +Pond’s hand. He was magnificent in a whole suit of store clothes, coat +and all, and he wore white stockings and neat, low shoes, like a city +child!</p> + +<p>They saw him later, up on the platform, squeaking out his little +patriotic poem, his eyes, shining like stars, fixed on one broad, +smiling face in the audience. When he finished he was overcome with +shyness by the applause, and for a moment forgot to turn and leave the +platform. He hung his head, and, looking out from under his eyebrows, +gave a quaint, shy little smile at the audience. Betsy saw Mr. Pond’s +great smile waver and grow dim. His eyes filled so full that he had to +take out his handkerchief and blow his nose loudly.</p> + +<p>And they saw little ’Lias once more, for the last time. Mr. Pond’s buggy +drove rapidly past their slow-moving hay-wagon, Mr. Pond holding the +reins masterfully in one hand. Beside him, very close, sat ’Lias with +his lap full of toys, oh, <i>full</i>—like Christmas! In that fleeting glimpse +they saw a toy train, a stuffed dog, a candy-box, a pile of +picture-books, tops, paper-bags, and even the swinging crane of the big +mechanical toy dredge that everybody said the storekeeper could never +sell to anybody because it cost so much!</p> + +<p>As they passed swiftly, ’Lias looked out at them and waved his little +hand flutteringly. His other hand was tightly clasped in Mr. Pond’s big +one. He was smiling at them all. His eyes looked dazed and radiant. He +turned his head as the buggy flashed by to call out, in a shrill, +exulting little shout, “Good-bye! Good-bye! I’m going to live with ...” +They could hear no more. He was gone, only his little hand still waving +at them over the back of the buggy seat.</p> + +<p>Betsy drew a long, long breath. She found that Ralph was looking at her. +For a moment she couldn’t think what made him look so different. Then +she saw that he was smiling. She had never seen him smile before. He +smiled at her as though he were sure she would understand, and never +said a word. Betsy looked forward again and saw the gleaming buggy +vanishing over the hill in front of them. She smiled back at Ralph +silently.</p> + +<p>Not a thing had happened the way she had planned; no, not a single +thing! But it seemed to her she had never been so happy in her life.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> +BETSY HAS A BIRTHDAY</h2> + +<p>Betsy’s birthday was the ninth day of September, and the Necronsett +Valley Fair is always held from the eighth to the twelfth. So it was +decided that Betsy should celebrate her birthday by going up to +Woodford, where the Fair was held. The Putneys weren’t going that year, +but the people on the next farm, the Wendells, said they could make room +in their surrey for the two little girls; for, of course, Molly was +going, too. In fact, she said the Fair was held partly to celebrate her +being six years old. This would happen on the seventeenth of October. +Molly insisted that that was <i>plenty</i> close enough to the ninth of +September to be celebrated then. This made Betsy feel like laughing out, +but observing that the Putneys only looked at each other with the +faintest possible quirk in the corners of their serious mouths, she +understood that they were afraid that Molly’s feelings might be hurt if +they laughed out loud. So Betsy tried to curve her young lips to the +same kind and secret mirth.</p> + +<p>And, I can’t tell you why, this effort not to hurt Molly’s feelings made +her have a perfect spasm of love for Molly. She threw herself on her and +gave her a great hug that tipped them both over on the couch on top of +Shep, who stopped snoring with his great gurgling snort, wriggled out +from under them, and stood with laughing eyes and wagging tail, looking +at them as they rolled and giggled among the pillows.</p> + +<p>“What dress are you going to wear to the Fair, Betsy?” asked Cousin Ann. +“And we must decide about Molly’s, too.”</p> + +<p>This stopped their rough-and-tumble fun in short order, and they applied +themselves to the serious question of a toilet.</p> + +<p>When the great day arrived and the surrey drove away from the Wendells’ +gate, Betsy was in a fresh pink-and-white gingham which she had helped +Cousin Ann make, and plump Molly looked like something good to eat in a +crisp white little dimity, one of Betsy’s old dresses, with a deep hem +taken in to make it short enough for the little butter-ball. Because it +was Betsy’s birthday, she sat on the front seat with Mr. Wendell, and +part of the time, when there were not too many teams on the road, she +drove, herself. Mrs. Wendell and her sister filled the back seat solidly +full from side to side and made one continuous soft lap on which Molly +happily perched, her eyes shining, her round cheeks red with joyful +excitement. Betsy looked back at her several times and thought how very +nice Molly looked. She had, of course, little idea how she herself +looked, because the mirrors at Putney Farm were all small and high up, +and anyhow they were so old and greenish that they made everybody look +very queer-colored. You looked in them to see if your hair was smooth, +and that was about all you could stand.</p> + +<p>So it was a great surprise to Betsy later in the morning, as she and +Molly wandered hand in hand through the wonders of Industrial Hall, to +catch sight of Molly in a full-length mirror as clear as water. She was +almost startled to see how faithfully reflected were the yellow of the +little girl’s curls, the clear pink and white of her face, and the blue +of her soft eyes. An older girl was reflected there also, near Molly, a +dark-eyed, red-cheeked, sturdy little girl, standing very straight on +two strong legs, holding her head high and free, her dark eyes looking +out brightly from her tanned face. For an instant Betsy gazed into those +clear eyes and then ... why, gracious goodness! That was herself she was +looking at! How changed she was! How very, very different she looked +from the last time she had seen herself in a big mirror! She remembered +it well—out shopping with Aunt Frances in a department store, she had +caught sight of a pale little girl, with a thin neck, and spindling legs +half-hidden in the folds of Aunt Frances’s skirts. But she didn’t look +even like the sister of this browned, muscular, upstanding child who +held Molly’s hand so firmly.</p> + +<p>All this came into her mind and went out again in a moment, for Molly +caught sight of a big doll in the next aisle and they hurried over to +inspect her clothing. The mirror was forgotten in the many exciting +sights and sounds and smells of their first county fair.</p> + +<p>The two little girls were to wander about as they pleased until noon, +when they were to meet the Wendells in the shadow of Industrial Hall and +eat their picnic lunch together. The two parties arrived together from +different directions, having seen very different sides of the Fair. The +children were full of the merry-go-rounds, the balloon-seller, the +toy-venders, and the pop-corn stands, while the Wendells exchanged views +on the shortness of a hog’s legs, the dip in a cow’s back, and the +thickness of a sheep’s wool. The Wendells, it seemed, had met some +cousins they didn’t expect to see, who, not knowing about Betsy and +Molly, had hoped that they might ride home with the Wendells.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you suppose,” Mrs. Wendell asked Betsy, “that you and Molly could +go home with the Vaughans? They’re here in their big wagon. You could +sit on the floor with the Vaughan children.”</p> + +<p>Betsy and Molly thought this would be great fun, and agreed +enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>“All right then,” said Mrs. Wendell. She called to a young man who stood +inside the building, near an open window: “Oh, Frank, Will Vaughan is +going to be in your booth this afternoon, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” said the young man. “His turn is from two to four.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you tell him, will you, that the two little girls who live at +Putney Farm are going to go home with them. They can sit on the bottom +of the wagon with the Vaughan young ones.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” said the young man, with a noticeable lack of interest in +how Betsy and Molly got home.</p> + +<p>“Now, Betsy,” said Mrs. Wendell, “you go round to that booth at two and +ask Will Vaughan what time they’re going to start and where their wagon +is, and then you be sure not to keep them waiting a minute.”</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t,” said Betsy. “I’ll be sure to be there on time.”</p> + +<p>She and Molly still had twenty cents to spend out of the forty they had +brought with them, twenty-five earned by berry-picking and fifteen a +present from Uncle Henry. They now put their heads together to see how +they could make the best possible use of their four nickels. Cousin Ann +had put no restrictions whatever on them, saying they could buy any sort +of truck or rubbish they could find, except the pink lemonade. She said +she had been told the venders washed their glasses in that, and their +hands, and for all she knew their faces. Betsy was for merry-go-rounds, +but Molly yearned for a big red balloon; and while they were buying that +a man came by with toy dogs, little brown dogs with curled-wire tails. +He called out that they would bark when you pulled their tails, and +seeing the little girls looking at him he pulled the tail of the one he +held. It gave forth a fine loud yelp, just like Shep when his tail got +stepped on. Betsy bought one, all done up neatly in a box tied with blue +string. She thought it a great bargain to get a dog who would bark for +five cents. (Later on, when they undid the string and opened the box, +they found the dog had one leg broken off and wouldn’t make the faintest +squeak when his tail was pulled; but that is the sort of thing you must +expect to have happen to you at a county fair.)</p> + +<p>Now they had ten cents left and they decided to have a ride apiece on +the merry-go-round. But, glancing up at the clock-face in the tower over +Agricultural Hall, Betsy noticed it was half-past two and she decided to +go first to the booth where Will Vaughan was to be and find out what +time they would start for home. She found the booth with no difficulty, +but William Vaughan was not in it. Nor was the young man she had seen +before. There was a new one, a strange one, a careless, whistling young +man, with very bright socks, very yellow shoes, and very striped cuffs. +He said, in answer to Betsy’s inquiry: “Vaughan? Will Vaughan? Never +heard the name,” and immediately went on whistling and looking up and +down the aisle over the heads of the little girls, who stood gazing up +at him with very wide, startled eyes. An older man leaned over from the +next booth and said: “Will Vaughan? He from Hillsboro? Well, I heard +somebody say those Hillsboro Vaughans had word one of their cows was +awful sick, and they had to start right home that minute.”</p> + +<p>Betsy came to herself out of her momentary daze and snatched Molly’s +hand. “Hurry! quick! We must find the Wendells before they get away!” In +her agitation (for she was really very much frightened) she forgot how +easily terrified little Molly was. Her alarm instantly sent the child +into a panic. “Oh, Betsy! Betsy! What will we do!” she gasped, as Betsy +pulled her along the aisle and out of the door.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the Wendells can’t be gone yet,” said Betsy reassuringly, though +she was not at all sure she was telling the truth. She ran as fast as +she could drag Molly’s fat legs, to the horse-shed where Mr. Wendell had +tied his horses and left the surrey. The horse-shed was empty, quite +empty.</p> + +<p>Betsy stopped short and stood still, her heart seeming to be up in her +throat so that she could hardly breathe. After all, she was only ten +that day, you must remember. Molly began to cry loudly, hiding her +weeping face in Betsy’s dress. “What will we do, Betsy! What can we <i>do</i>!” +she wailed.</p> + +<p>Betsy did not answer. She did not know what they <i>would</i> do! They were +eight miles from Putney Farm, far too much for Molly to walk, and anyhow +neither of them knew the way. They had only ten cents left, and nothing +to eat. And the only people they knew in all that throng of strangers +had gone back to Hillsboro.</p> + +<p>“What will we do, Betsy?” Molly kept on crying out, horrified by Betsy’s +silence and evident consternation.</p> + +<p>The other child’s head swam. She tried again the formula which had +helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself, +desperately, “What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!” But that did +not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what +Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances. Yes, one thing +Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first +of all.</p> + +<p>At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken +little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly, +“Now, Molly, stop crying this minute. I’ll take care of you, of course. +I’ll get you home all right.”</p> + +<p>“How’ll you ever do it?” sobbed Molly.</p> + +<p>“Everybody’s gone and left us. We can’t walk!”</p> + +<p>“Never you mind how,” said Betsy, trying to be facetious and +mock-mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little. +“That’s my surprise party for you. Just you wait. Now come on back to +that booth. Maybe Will Vaughan didn’t go home with his folks.”</p> + +<p>She had very little hope of this, and only went back there because it +seemed to her a little less dauntingly strange than every other spot in +the howling wilderness about her; for all at once the Fair, which had +seemed so lively and cheerful and gay before, seemed now a horrible, +frightening, noisy place, full of hurried strangers who came and went +their own ways, with not a glance out of their hard eyes for two little +girls stranded far from home.</p> + +<p>The bright-colored young man was no better when they found him again. He +stopped his whistling only long enough to say, “Nope, no Will Vaughan +anywhere around these diggings yet.”</p> + +<p>“We were going home with the Vaughans,” murmured Betsy, in a low tone, +hoping for some help from him.</p> + +<p>“Looks as though you’d better go home on the cars,” advised the young +man casually. He smoothed his black hair back straighter than ever from +his forehead and looked over their heads.</p> + +<p>“How much does it cost to go to Hillsboro on the cars?” asked Betsy with +a sinking heart.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to ask somebody else about that,” said the young man. “What +I don’t know about this Rube state! I never was in it before.” He spoke +as though he were very proud of the fact.</p> + +<p>Betsy turned and went over to the older man who had told them about the +Vaughans.</p> + +<p>Molly trotted at her heels, quite comforted, now that Betsy was talking +so competently to grown-ups. She did not hear what they said, nor try +to. Now that Betsy’s voice sounded all right she had no more fears. +Betsy would manage somehow. She heard Betsy’s voice again talking to the +other man, but she was busy looking at an exhibit of beautiful jelly +glasses, and paid no attention. Then Betsy led her away again out of +doors, where everybody was walking back and forth under the bright +September sky, blowing on horns, waving plumes of brilliant +tissue-paper, tickling each other with peacock feathers, and eating +pop-corn and candy out of paper bags.</p> + +<p>That reminded Molly that they had ten cents yet. “Oh, Betsy,” she +proposed, “let’s take a nickel of our money for some pop-corn.”</p> + +<p>She was startled by Betsy’s fierce sudden clutch at their little purse +and by the quaver in her voice as she answered: “No, no, Molly. We’ve +got to save every cent of that. I’ve found out it costs thirty cents for +us both to go home to Hillsboro on the train. The last one goes at six +o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“We haven’t got but ten,” said Molly.</p> + +<p>Betsy looked at her silently for a moment and then burst out, “I’ll earn +the rest! I’ll earn it somehow! I’ll have to! There isn’t any other +way!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Molly quaintly, not seeing anything unusual in this. +“You can, if you want to. I’ll wait for you here.”</p> + +<p>“No, you won’t!” cried Betsy, who had quite enough of trying to meet +people in a crowd. “No, you won’t! You just follow me every minute! I +don’t want you out of my sight!”</p> + +<p>They began to move forward now, Betsy’s eyes wildly roving from one +place to another. How <i>could</i> a little girl earn money at a county fair! +She was horribly afraid to go up and speak to a stranger, and yet how +else could she begin?</p> + +<p>“Here, Molly, you wait here,” she said. “Don’t you budge till I come +back.”</p> + +<p>But alas! Molly had only a moment to wait that time, for the man who was +selling lemonade answered Betsy’s shy question with a stare and a curt, +“Lord, no! What could a young one like you do for me?”</p> + +<p>The little girls wandered on, Molly calm and expectant, confident in +Betsy; Betsy with a very dry mouth and a very gone feeling. They were +passing by a big shed-like building now, where a large sign proclaimed +that the Woodford Ladies’ Aid Society would serve a hot chicken dinner +for thirty-five cents. Of course the sign was not accurate, for at +half-past three, almost four, the chicken dinner had long ago been all +eaten and in place of the diners was a group of weary women moving +languidly about or standing saggingly by a great table piled with dirty +dishes. Betsy paused here, meditated a moment, and went in rapidly so +that her courage would not evaporate.</p> + +<p>The woman with gray hair looked down at her a little impatiently and +said, “Dinner’s all over.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t come for dinner,” said Betsy, swallowing hard. “I came to see +if you wouldn’t hire me to wash your dishes. I’ll do them for +twenty-five cents.”</p> + +<p>The woman laughed, looked from little Betsy to the great pile of dishes, +and said, turning away, “Mercy, child, if you washed from now till +morning, you wouldn’t make a hole in what we’ve got to do.”</p> + +<p>Betsy heard her say to the other women, “Some young one wanting more +money for the side-shows.”</p> + +<p>Now, now was the moment to remember what Cousin Ann would have done. She +would certainly not have shaken all over with hurt feelings nor have +allowed the tears to come stingingly to her eyes. So Betsy sternly made +herself stop doing these things. And Cousin Ann wouldn’t have given way +to the dreadful sinking feeling of utter discouragement, but would have +gone right on to the next place. So, although Betsy felt like nothing so +much as crooking her elbow over her face and crying as hard as she could +cry, she stiffened her back, took Molly’s hand again, and stepped out, +heart-sick within but very steady (although rather pale) without.</p> + +<p>She and Molly walked along in the crowd again, Molly laughing and +pointing out the pranks and antics of the young people, who were feeling +livelier than ever as the afternoon wore on. Betsy looked at them grimly +with unseeing eyes. It was four o’clock. The last train for Hillsboro +left in two hours and she was no nearer having the price of the tickets. +She stopped for a moment to get her breath; for, although they were +walking slowly, she kept feeling breathless and choked. It occurred to +her that if ever a little girl had had a more horrible birthday she +never heard of one!</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wish I could, Dan!” said a young voice near her. “But honest! +Momma’d just eat me up alive if I left the booth for a minute!”</p> + +<p>Betsy turned quickly. A very pretty girl with yellow hair and blue eyes +(she looked as Molly might when she was grown-up) was leaning over the +edge of a little canvas-covered booth, the sign of which announced that +home-made doughnuts and soft drinks were for sale there. A young man, +very flushed and gay, was pulling at the girl’s blue gingham sleeve. +“Oh, come on, Annie. Just one turn! The floor’s elegant. You can keep an +eye on the booth from the hall! Nobody’s going to run away with the old +thing anyhow!”</p> + +<p>“Honest, I’d love to! But I got a great lot of dishes to wash, too! You +know Momma!” She looked longingly toward the open-air dancing floor, out +from which just then floated a burst of brazen music.</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>please</i>!” said a small voice. “I’ll do it for twenty cents.”</p> + +<p>Betsy stood by the girl’s elbow, all quivering earnestness.</p> + +<p>“Do what, kiddie?” asked the girl in a good-natured surprise.</p> + +<p>“Everything!” said Betsy, compendiously. “Everything! Wash the dishes, +tend the booth; <i>you</i> can go dance! I’ll do it for twenty cents.”</p> + +<p>The eyes of the girl and the man met in high amusement. “My! Aren’t we +up and coming!” said the man. “You’re most as big as a pint-cup, aren’t +you?” he said to Betsy.</p> + +<p>The little girl flushed—she detested being laughed at—but she looked +straight into the laughing eyes. “I’m ten years old today,” she said, +“and I can wash dishes as well as anybody.” She spoke with dignity.</p> + +<p>The young man burst out into a great laugh.</p> + +<p>“Great kid, what!” he said to the girl, and then, “Say, Annie, why not? +Your mother won’t be here for an hour. The kid can keep folks from +walking off with the dope and ...”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do the dishes, too,” repeated Betsy, trying hard not to mind being +laughed at, and keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the tickets to +Hillsboro.</p> + +<p>“Well, by gosh,” said the young man, laughing. “Here’s our chance, +Annie, for fair! Come along!”</p> + +<p>The girl laughed, too, out of high spirits. “Wouldn’t Momma be crazy!” +she said hilariously. “But she’ll never know. Here, you cute kid, here’s +my apron.” She took off her long apron and tied it around Betsy’s neck. +“There’s the soap, there’s the table. You stack the dishes up on that +counter.”</p> + +<p>She was out of the little gate in the counter in a twinkling, just as +Molly, in answer to a beckoning gesture from Betsy, came in. “Hello, +there’s another one!” said the gay young man, gayer and gayer. “Hello, +button! What you going to do? I suppose when they try to crack the safe +you’ll run at them and bark and drive them away!”</p> + +<p>Molly opened her sweet, blue eyes very wide, not understanding a single +word. The girl laughed, swooped back, gave Molly a kiss, and +disappeared, running side by side with the young man toward the dance +hall.</p> + +<p>Betsy mounted on a soap box and began joyfully to wash the dishes. She +had never thought that ever in her life would she simply <i>love</i> to wash +dishes beyond anything else! But it was so. Her relief was so great that +she could have kissed the coarse, thick plates and glasses as she washed +them.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, Molly; it’s all right!” she quavered exultantly to +Molly over her shoulder. But as Molly had not (from the moment Betsy +took command) suspected that it was not all right, she only nodded and +asked if she might sit up on a barrel where she could watch the crowd go +by.</p> + +<p>“I guess you could. I don’t know why <i>not</i>,” said Betsy doubtfully. She +lifted her up and went back to her dishes. Never were dishes washed +better!</p> + +<p>“Two doughnuts, please,” said a man’s voice behind her.</p> + +<p>Oh, mercy, there was somebody come to buy! Whatever should she do? She +came forward intending to say that the owner of the booth was away and +she didn’t know anything about ... but the man laid down a nickel, took +two doughnuts, and turned away. Betsy gasped and looked at the home-made +sign stuck into the big pan of doughnuts. Sure enough, it read “2 for +5.” She put the nickel up on a shelf and went back to her dishwashing. +Selling things wasn’t so hard, she reflected.</p> + +<p>As her hunted feeling of desperation relaxed she began to find some fun +in her new situation, and when a woman with two little boys approached +she came forward to wait on her, elated, important. “Two for five,” she +said in a businesslike tone. The woman put down a dime, took up four +doughnuts, divided them between her sons, and departed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"> +<a id="dishes_washed"></a> +<a href="images/dishes_washed.jpg"> +<img src="images/dishes_washed_sml.jpg" width="372" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Never were dishes washed better!</span> +</div> + +<p>“My!” said Molly, looking admiringly at Betsy’s coolness over this +transaction. Betsy went back to her dishes, stepping high.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Betsy, see! The pig! The big ox!” cried Molly now, looking from her +coign of vantage down the wide, grass-grown lane between the booths.</p> + +<p>Betsy craned her head around over her shoulder, continuing +conscientiously to wash and wipe the dishes. The prize stock was being +paraded around the Fair; the great prize ox, his shining horns tipped +with blue rosettes; the prize cows, with wreaths around their necks; the +prize horses, four or five of them as glossy as satin, curving their +bright, strong necks and stepping as though on eggs, their manes and +tails braided with bright ribbon; and then, “Oh, Betsy, <i>look</i> at the +pig!” screamed Molly again—the smaller animals, the sheep, the calves, +the colts, and the pig, which waddled along with portly dignity.</p> + +<p>Betsy looked as well as she could over her shoulder ... and in years to +come she can shut her eyes and see again in every detail that rustic +procession under the golden, September light.</p> + +<p>But she looked anxiously at the clock. It was nearing five. Oh, suppose +the girl forgot and danced too long!</p> + +<p>“Two bottles of ginger ale and half a dozen doughnuts,” said a man with +a woman and three children.</p> + +<p>Betsy looked feverishly among the bottles ranged on the counter, +selected two marked ginger ale, and glared at their corrugated tin +stoppers. How <i>did</i> you get them open?</p> + +<p>“Here’s your opener,” said the man, “if that’s what you’re looking for. +Here, you get the glasses and I’ll open the bottles. We’re in kind of a +hurry. Got to catch a train.”</p> + +<p>Well, they were not the only people who had to catch a train, Betsy +thought sadly. They drank in gulps and departed, cramming doughnuts into +their mouths. Betsy wished ardently that the girl would come back. She +was now almost sure that she had forgotten and would dance there till +nightfall. But there, there she came, running along, as light-footed +after an hour’s dancing as when she had left the booth.</p> + +<p>“Here you are, kid,” said the young man, producing a quarter. “We’ve had +the time of our young lives, thanks to you.”</p> + +<p>Betsy gave him back one of the nickels that remained to her, but he +refused it.</p> + +<p>“No, keep the change,” he said royally. “It was worth it.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll buy two doughnuts with my extra nickel,” said Betsy.</p> + +<p>“No, you won’t,” said the girl. “You’ll take all you want for nothing ... +Momma’ll never miss ’em. And what you sell here has got to be fresh +every day. Here, hold out your hands, both of you.”</p> + +<p>“Some people came and bought things,” said Betsy, happening to remember +as she and Molly turned away. “The money is on that shelf.”</p> + +<p>“Well, <i>now</i>!” said the girl, “if she didn’t take hold and sell things! +Say ...”—she ran after Betsy and gave her a hug—“you smart young one, +I wish’t I had a little sister just like you!”</p> + +<p>Molly and Betsy hurried along out of the gate into the main street of +the town and down to the station. Molly was eating doughnuts as she +went. They were both quite hungry by this time, but Betsy could not +think of eating till she had those tickets in her hand.</p> + +<p>She pushed her quarter and a nickel into the ticket-seller’s window and +said “Hillsboro” in as confident a tone as she could; but when the +precious bits of paper were pushed out at her and she actually held +them, her knees shook under her and she had to go and sit down on the +bench.</p> + +<p>“My! Aren’t these doughnuts good?” said Molly. “I never in my life had +<i>enough</i> doughnuts before!”</p> + +<p>Betsy drew a long breath and began rather languidly to eat one herself; +she felt, all of a sudden, very, very tired.</p> + +<p>She was tireder still when they got out of the train at Hillsboro +Station and started wearily up the road toward Putney Farm. Two miles +lay before them, two miles which they had often walked before, but never +after such a day as now lay back of them. Molly dragged her feet as she +walked and hung heavily on Betsy’s hand. Betsy plodded along, her head +hanging, her eyes all gritty with fatigue and sleepiness. A light buggy +spun round the turn of the road behind them, the single horse trotting +fast as though the driver were in a hurry, the wheels rattling smartly +on the hard road. The little girls drew out to one side and stood +waiting till the road should be free again. When he saw them the driver +pulled the horse back so quickly it stood almost straight up. He peered +at them through the twilight and then with a loud shout sprang over the +side of the buggy.</p> + +<p>It was Uncle Henry—oh, goody, it was Uncle Henry come to meet them! +They wouldn’t have to walk any further!</p> + +<p>But what was the matter with Uncle Henry? He ran up to them, exclaiming, +“Are ye all right? Are ye all right?” He stooped over and felt of them +desperately as though he expected them to be broken somewhere. And Betsy +could feel that his old hands were shaking, that he was trembling all +over. When she said, “Why, yes, Uncle Henry, we’re all right. We came +home on the cars,” Uncle Henry leaned up against the fence as though he +couldn’t stand up. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead and he +said—it didn’t seem as though it could be Uncle Henry talking, he +sounded so excited—“Well, well—well, by gosh! My! Well, by thunder! +Now! And so here ye are! And you’re all right! <i>Well</i>!”</p> + +<p>He couldn’t seem to stop exclaiming, and you can’t imagine anything +stranger than an Uncle Henry who couldn’t stop exclaiming.</p> + +<p>After they all got into the buggy he quieted down a little and said, +“Thunderation! But we’ve had a scare! When the Wendells come back with +their cousins early this afternoon, they said you were coming with the +Vaughans. And then when you didn’t come and <i>didn’t</i> come, we telephoned +to the Vaughans, and they said they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of ye, and +didn’t even know you were <i>to</i> the Fair at all! I tell you, your Aunt +Abigail and I had an awful turn! Ann and I hitched up quicker’n scat and +she put right out with Prince up toward Woodford and I took Jessie down +this way; thought maybe I’d get trace of ye somewhere here. Well, land!” +He wiped his forehead again. “Wa’n’t I glad to see you standin’ +there ... get along, Jess! I want to get the news to Abigail soon as I +can!”</p> + +<p>“Now tell me what in thunder <i>did</i> happen to you!”</p> + +<p>Betsy began at the beginning and told straight through, interrupted at +first by indignant comments from Uncle Henry, who was outraged by the +Wendells’ loose wearing of their responsibility for the children. But as +she went on he quieted down to a closely attentive silence, interrupting +only to keep Jess at her top speed.</p> + +<p>Now that it was all safely over, Betsy thought her story quite an +interesting one, and she omitted no detail, although she wondered once +or twice if perhaps Uncle Henry were listening to her, he kept so still. +“And so I bought the tickets and we got home,” she ended, adding, “Oh, +Uncle Henry, you ought to have seen the prize pig! He was <i>too</i> funny!”</p> + +<p>They turned into the Putney yard now and saw Aunt Abigail’s bulky form +on the porch.</p> + +<p>“Got ’em, Abby! All right! No harm done!” shouted Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail turned without a word and went back into the house. When +the little girls dragged their weary legs in they found her quietly +setting out some supper for them on the table, but she was wiping away +with her apron the joyful tears which ran down her cheeks, such white +cheeks! It seemed so strange to see rosy Aunt Abigail with a face like +paper.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m glad to see ye,” she told them soberly. “Sit right down and +have some hot milk. I had some all ready.”</p> + +<p>The telephone rang, she went into the next room, and they heard her +saying, in an unsteady voice: “All right, Ann. They’re here. Your father +just brought them in. I haven’t had time to hear about what happened +yet. But they’re all right. You’d better come home.”</p> + +<p>“That’s your Cousin Ann telephoning from the Marshalls’.”</p> + +<p>She herself went and sat down heavily, and when Uncle Henry came in a +few minutes later she asked him in a rather weak voice for the ammonia +bottle. He rushed for it, got her a fan and a drink of cold water, and +hung over her anxiously till the color began to come back into her pale +face. “I know just how you feel, Mother,” he said sympathetically. “When +I saw ’em standin’ there by the roadside I felt as though somebody had +hit me a clip right in the pit of the stomach.”</p> + +<p>The little girls ate their supper in a tired daze, not paying any +attention to what the grown-ups were saying, until rapid hoofs clicked +on the stones outside and Cousin Ann came in quickly, her black eyes +snapping.</p> + +<p>“Now, for mercy’s sake, tell me what happened,” she said, adding hotly, +“and if I don’t give that Maria Wendell a piece of my mind!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry broke in: “<i>I</i>’M going to tell what happened. <i>I want</i> to do +it. You and Mother just listen, just sit right down and listen.” His +voice was shaking with feeling, and as he went on and told of Betsy’s +afternoon, her fright, her confusion, her forming the plan of coming +home on the train and of earning the money for the tickets, he made, for +once, no Putney pretense of casual coolness. His old eyes flashed fire +as he talked.</p> + +<p>Betsy, watching him, felt her heart swell and beat fast in incredulous +joy. Why, he was proud of her! She had done something to make the Putney +cousins proud of her!</p> + +<p>When Uncle Henry came to the part where she went on asking for +employment after one and then another refusal, Cousin Ann reached out +her long arms and quickly, almost roughly, gathered Betsy up on her lap, +holding her close as she listened. Betsy had never before sat on Cousin +Ann’s lap.</p> + +<p>And when Uncle Henry finished—he had not forgotten a single thing Betsy +had told him—and asked, “What do you think of <i>that</i> for a little girl +ten years old today?” Cousin Ann opened the flood-gates wide and burst +out, “I think I never heard of a child’s doing a smarter, grittier +thing ... <i>and I don’t care if she does hear me say so</i>!”</p> + +<p>It was a great, a momentous, an historic moment!</p> + +<p>Betsy, enthroned on those strong knees, wondered if any little girl had +ever had such a beautiful birthday.</p> + +<div class='chapter'></div> +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> +“UNDERSTOOD AUNT FRANCES”</h2> + +<p>About a month, after Betsy’s birthday, one October day when the leaves +were all red and yellow, two very momentous events occurred, and, in a +manner of speaking, at the very same time. Betsy had noticed that her +kitten Eleanor (she still thought of her as a kitten, although she was +now a big, grown-up cat) spent very little time around the house. She +came into the kitchen two or three times a day, mewing loudly for milk +and food, but after eating very fast she always disappeared at once. +Betsy missed the purring, contented ball of fur on her lap in the long +evenings as she played checkers, or read aloud, or sewed, or played +guessing games. She felt rather hurt, too, that Eleanor paid her so +little attention, and several times she tried hard to make her stay, +trailing in front of her a spool tied to a string or rolling a worsted +ball across the floor. But Eleanor seemed to have lost all her taste for +the things she had liked so much. Invariably, the moment the door was +opened, she darted out and vanished.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Betsy ran out after her, determined to catch her and bring +her back. When the cat found she was being followed, she bounded along +in great leaps, constantly escaping from Betsy’s outstretched hand. They +came thus to the horse-barn, into the open door of which Eleanor whisked +like a little gray shadow, Betsy close behind. The cat flashed up the +steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the hay-loft. Betsy scrambled +rapidly up, too. It was dark up there, compared to the gorgeous-colored +October day outside, and for a moment she could not see Eleanor. Then +she made her out, a dim little shape, picking her way over the hay, and +she heard her talking. Yes, it was real talk, quite, quite different +from the loud, imperious “<i>miauw</i>!” with which Eleanor asked for her milk. +This was the softest, prettiest kind of conversation, all little murmurs +and chirps and sing-songs. Why, Betsy could almost understand it! She +<i>could</i> understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then, +breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-like +cries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward and +disappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over the +hay as fast as she could go.</p> + +<p>It was all silent now—the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped as +suddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purring +so loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud and +happy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she arched +her back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy’s +astounded, delighted eyes—no, she wasn’t dreaming—two dear little +kittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib on +his chest.</p> + +<p>Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy put +her fingers very softly on the gray one’s head and thrilled to feel the +warmth of the little living creature. “Oh, Eleanor!” she asked eagerly. +“<i>Can I</i> pick one up?” She lifted the gray one gently and held it up to +her cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand. +She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into her +palm. “Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!” she said over +and over in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Eleanor did not stop purring, and she looked up with friendly, trusting +eyes as her little mistress made the acquaintance of her children, but +Betsy could feel somehow that Eleanor was anxious about her kitten, was +afraid that, although the little girl meant everything that was kind, +her great, clumsy, awkward human hands weren’t clever enough to hold a +baby-cat the proper way. “I don’t blame you a bit, Eleanor,” said Betsy. +“I should feel just so in your place. There! I won’t touch it again!” +She laid the kitten down carefully by its mother. Eleanor at once began +to wash its face very vigorously, knocking it over and over with her +strong tongue. “My!” said Betsy, laughing. “You’d scratch my eyes out, +if <i>I</i> were as rough as that!”</p> + +<p>Eleanor didn’t seem to hear. Or rather she seemed to hear something +else. For she stopped short, her head lifted, her ears pricked up, +listening very hard to some distant sound. Then Betsy heard it, too, +somebody coming into the barn below, little, quick, uneven footsteps. It +must be little Molly, tagging along, as she always did. What fun to show +Molly the kittens!</p> + +<p>“Betsy!” called Molly from below.</p> + +<p>“Molly!” called Betsy from above. “Come up here quick! I’ve got +something up here.”</p> + +<p>There was a sound of scrambling, rapid feet on the rough stairs, and +Molly’s yellow curls appeared, shining in the dusk. “I’ve got a ...” she +began, but Betsy did not let her finish.</p> + +<p>“Come here, Molly, quick! <i>quick</i>!” she called, beckoning eagerly, as +though the kittens might evaporate into thin air if Molly didn’t get +there at once. Molly forgot what she was going to say, climbed madly up +the steep pile of hay, and in a moment was lying flat on her stomach +beside the little family in a spasm of delight that satisfied even Betsy +and Eleanor, both of them convinced that these were the finest kittens +the world had ever seen.</p> + +<p>“See, there are two,” said Betsy. “You can have one for your very own. +And I’ll let you choose. Which one do you like best?”</p> + +<p>She was hoping that Molly would not take the little all-gray one, +because she had fallen in love with that the minute she saw it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>this</i> one with the white on his breast,” said Molly, without a +moment’s hesitation. “It’s <i>lots</i> the prettiest! Oh, Betsy! For my very +own?”</p> + +<p>Something white fell out of the folds of her skirt on the hay. “Oh, +yes,” she said indifferently. “A letter for you. Miss Ann told me to +bring it out here. She said she saw you streaking it for the barn.”</p> + +<p>It was a letter from Aunt Frances. Betsy opened it, one eye on Molly to +see that she did not hug her new darling too tightly, and began to read +it in the ray of dusty sunlight slanting in through a crack in the side +of the barn. She could do this easily, because Aunt Frances always made +her handwriting very large and round and clear, so that a little girl +could read it without half trying.</p> + +<p>And as she read, everything faded away from before her ... the barn, +Molly, the kittens ... she saw nothing but the words on the page.</p> + +<p>When she had read the letter through she got up quickly, oh ever so +quickly! and went away down the stairs. Molly hardly noticed she had +gone, so absorbing and delightful were the kittens.</p> + +<p>Betsy went out of the dusky barn into the rich, October splendor and saw +none of it. She went straight away from the house and the barn, straight +up into the hill-pasture toward her favorite place beside the brook, the +shady pool under the big maple-tree. At first she walked, but after a +while she ran, faster and faster, as though she could not get there soon +enough. Her head was down, and one arm was crooked over her face....</p> + +<p>And do you know, I’m not going to follow her up there, nor let you go. +I’m afraid we would all cry if we saw what Betsy did under the big +maple-tree. And the very reason she ran away so fast was so that she +could be all by herself for a very hard hour, and fight it out, alone.</p> + +<p>So let us go back soberly to the orchard where the Putneys are, and wait +till Betsy comes walking listlessly in, her eyes red and her cheeks +pale. Cousin Ann was up in the top of a tree, a basket hung over her +shoulder half full of striped red Northern Spies; Uncle Henry was on a +ladder against another tree, filling a bag with the beautiful, shining, +yellow-green Pound Sweets, and Aunt Abigail was moving around, picking +up the parti-colored windfalls and putting them into barrels ready to go +to the cider-mill.</p> + +<p>Something about the way Betsy walked, and as she drew closer something +about the expression of her face, and oh! as she began to speak, +something about the tone of her voice, stopped all this cheerful +activity as though a bomb had gone off in their midst.</p> + +<p>“I’ve had a letter from Aunt Frances,” said Betsy, biting her lips, “and +she says she’s coming to take me away, back to them, tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>There was a big silence; Cousin Ann stood, perfectly motionless up in +her tree, staring down through the leaves at Betsy. Uncle Henry was +turned around on his ladder, one hand on an apple as though it had +frozen there, staring down at Betsy. Aunt Abigail leaned with both fat +hands on her barrel, staring hard at Betsy. Betsy was staring down at +her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes. The yellow, hazy +October sun sank slowly down toward the rim of Hemlock Mountain, and +sent long, golden shafts of light through the branches of the trees upon +this group of people, all so silent, so motionless.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 388px;"> +<a id="staring_down"></a> +<a href="images/staring_down.jpg"> +<img src="images/staring_down_sml.jpg" width="388" height="550" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and +winking her eyes.</span> +</div> + +<p>Betsy was the first to speak, and I’m very proud of her for what she +said. She said, loyally, “Dear Aunt Frances! She was always so sweet to +me! She always tried so hard to take care of me!”</p> + +<p>For that was what Betsy had found up by the brook under the big red +maple-tree. She had found there a certainty that, whatever else she did, +she must <i>not</i> hurt Aunt Frances’s feelings—dear, gentle, sweet Aunt +Frances, whose feelings were so easily hurt and who had given her so +many years of such anxious care. Something up there had told +her—perhaps the quiet blue shadow of Windward Mountain creeping slowly +over the pasture toward her, perhaps the silent glory of the great +red and gold tree, perhaps the singing murmur of the little +brook—perhaps all of them together had told her that now had come a +time when she must do more than what Cousin Ann would do—when she must +do what she herself knew was right. And that was to protect Aunt Frances +from hurt.</p> + +<p>When she spoke, out there in the orchard, she broke the spell of +silence. Cousin Ann climbed hastily down from her tree, with her basket +only partly filled. Uncle Henry got stiffly off his ladder, and Aunt +Abigail advanced through the grass. And they all said the same +thing—“Let me see that letter.”</p> + +<p>They read it there, looking over each other’s shoulders, with grave +faces. Then, still silently, they all turned and went back into the +house, leaving their forgotten bags and barrels and baskets out under +the trees. When they found themselves in the kitchen—“Well, it’s +suppertime, anyhow,” said Cousin Ann hastily, as if ashamed of losing +her composure, “or almost time. We might as well get it now.”</p> + +<p>“I’m a-going out to milk,” said Uncle Henry gruffly, although it was not +nearly his usual time. He took up the milk pails and marched out toward +the barn, stepping heavily, his head hanging.</p> + +<p>Shep woke up with a snort and, getting off the couch, gamboled clumsily +up to Betsy, wagging his tail and jumping up on her, ready for a frolic. +That was almost too much for Betsy! To think that after tomorrow she +would never see Shep again—nor Eleanor! Nor the kittens! She choked as +she bent over Shep and put her arms around his neck for a great hug. But +she mustn’t cry, she mustn’t hurt Aunt Frances’s feelings, or show that +she wasn’t glad to go back to her. That wouldn’t be fair, after all Aunt +Frances had done for her!</p> + +<p>That night she lay awake after she and Molly had gone to bed and Molly +was asleep. They had decided not to tell Molly until the last minute, so +she had dropped off peacefully, as usual. But poor Betsy’s eyes were +wide open. She saw a gleam of light under the door. It widened; the door +opened. Aunt Abigail stood there, in her night cap, mountainous in her +long white gown, a candle shining up into her serious old face.</p> + +<p>“You awake, Betsy?” she whispered, seeing the child’s dark eyes gleaming +at her over the covers. “I just—I just thought I’d look in to see if +you were all right.” She came to the edge of the bed and set the candle +down on the little stand. Betsy reached her arms up longingly and the +old woman stooped over her. Neither of them said a single word during +the long embrace which followed. Then Aunt Abigail straightened up +hastily, took her candle very quickly and softly, and heavily padded out +of the room.</p> + +<p>Betsy turned over and flung one arm over Molly—no Molly, either, after +tomorrow!</p> + +<p>She gulped hard and stared up at the ceiling, dimly white in the +starlight. A gleam of light shone under the door. It widened, and Uncle +Henry stood there, a candle in his hand, peering into the room. “You +awake, Betsy?” he said cautiously.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I’m awake, Uncle Henry.”</p> + +<p>The old man shuffled into the room. “I just got to thinking,” he said, +hesitating, “that maybe you’d like to take my watch with you. It’s kind +of handy to have a watch on the train. And I’d like real well for you to +have it.”</p> + +<p>He laid it down on the stand, his own cherished gold watch, that had +been given him when he was twenty-one.</p> + +<p>Betsy reached out and took his hard, gnarled old fist in a tight grip. +“Oh, Uncle Henry!” she began, and could not go on.</p> + +<p>“We’ll miss you, Betsy,” he said in an uncertain voice. “It’s +been ... it’s been real nice to have you here ...”</p> + +<p>And then he too snatched up his candle very quickly and almost ran out +of the room.</p> + +<p>Betsy turned over on her back. “No crying, now!” she told herself +fiercely. “No crying, now!” She clenched her hands together tightly and +set her teeth.</p> + +<p>Something moved in the room. Somebody leaned over her. It was Cousin +Ann, who didn’t make a sound, not one, but who took Betsy in her strong +arms and held her close and closer, till Betsy could feel the quick +pulse of the other’s heart beating all through her own body. Then she +was gone—as silently as she came.</p> + +<p>But somehow that great embrace had taken away all the burning tightness +from Betsy’s eyes and heart. She was very, very tired, and soon after +this she fell sound asleep, snuggled up close to Molly.</p> + +<p>In the morning, nobody spoke of last night at all. Breakfast was +prepared and eaten, and the team hitched up directly afterward. Betsy +and Uncle Henry were to drive to the station together to meet Aunt +Frances’s train. Betsy put on her new wine-colored cashmere that Cousin +Ann had made her, with the soft white collar of delicate old embroidery +that Aunt Abigail had given her out of one of the trunks in the attic.</p> + +<p>She and Uncle Henry said very little as they drove to the village, and +even less as they stood waiting together on the platform. Betsy slipped +her hand into his and he held it tight as the train whistled in the +distance and came slowly and laboriously puffing up to the station.</p> + +<p>Just one person got off at the little station, and that was Aunt +Frances, looking ever so dressed up and citified, with a fluffy +ostrich-feather boa and kid gloves and a white veil over her face and a +big blue one floating from her gay-flowered velvet hat. How pretty she +was! And how young—under the veil which hid so kindly all the little +lines in her sweet, thin face. And how excited and fluttery! Betsy had +forgotten how fluttery Aunt Frances was! She clasped Betsy to her, and +then started back crying—she must see to her suitcase—and then she +clasped Betsy to her again and shook hands with Uncle Henry, whose grim +old face looked about as cordial and welcoming as the sourest kind of +sour pickle, and she fluttered back and said she must have left her +umbrella on the train. “Oh, Conductor! Conductor! My umbrella—right in +my seat—a blue one with a crooked-over—oh, here it is in my hand! What +am I thinking of!”</p> + +<p>The conductor evidently thought he’d better get the train away as soon +as possible, for he now shouted, “All aboard!” to nobody at all, and +sprang back on the steps. The train went off, groaning over the steep +grade, and screaming out its usual echoing warning about the next road +crossing.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry took Aunt Frances’s suitcase and plodded back to the surrey. +He got into the front seat and Aunt Frances and Betsy in the back; and +they started off.</p> + +<p>And now I want you to listen to every single word that was said on the +back seat, for it was a very, very important conversation, when Betsy’s +fate hung on the curl of an eyelash and the flicker of a voice, as fates +often do.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances hugged Betsy again and again and exclaimed about her having +grown so big and tall and fat—she didn’t say brown too, although you +could see that she was thinking that, as she looked through her veil at +Betsy’s tanned face and down at the contrast between her own pretty, +white fingers and Betsy’s leather-colored, muscular little hands. She +exclaimed and exclaimed and kept on exclaiming! Betsy wondered if she +really always had been as fluttery as this. And then, all of a sudden it +came out, the great news, the reason for the extra flutteriness.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances was going to be married!</p> + +<p>Yes! Think of it! Betsy fell back open-mouthed with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Did Betsy think her Aunt Frances a silly old thing?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Aunt Frances, <i>no</i>!” cried Betsy fervently. “You look just as <i>young</i>, +and pretty! Lots younger than I remembered you!”</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances flushed with pleasure and went on, “You’ll love your old +Aunt Frances just as much, won’t you, when she’s Mrs. Plimpton!”</p> + +<p>Betsy put her arms around her and gave her a great hug. “I’ll always +love you, Aunt Frances!” she said.</p> + +<p>“You’ll love Mr. Plimpton, too. He’s so big and strong, and he just +loves to take care of people. He says that’s why he’s marrying me. Don’t +you wonder where we are going to live?” she asked, answering her own +question quickly. “We’re not going to live anywhere. Isn’t that a joke? +Mr. Plimpton’s business keeps him always moving around from one place to +another, never more than a month anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“What’ll Aunt Harriet do?” asked Betsy wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“Why, she’s ever and ever so much better,” said Aunt Frances happily. +“And her own sister, my Aunt Rachel, has come back from China, where +she’s been a missionary for ever so long, and the two old ladies are +going to keep house together out in California, in the dearest little +bungalow, all roses and honeysuckle. But <i>you’re</i> going to be with me. +Won’t it be jolly fun, darling, to go traveling all about everywhere, +and see new places all the time!”</p> + +<p>Now those are the words Aunt Frances said, but something in her voice +and her face suggested a faint possibility to Betsy that maybe Aunt +Frances didn’t really think it would be such awfully jolly fun as her +words said. Her heart gave a big jump up, and she had to hold tight to +the arm of the surrey before she could ask, in a quiet voice, “But, Aunt +Frances, won’t I be awfully in your way, traveling around so?”</p> + +<p>Now, Aunt Frances had ears of her own, and though that was what Betsy’s +words said, what Aunt Frances heard was a suggestion that possibly Betsy +wasn’t as crazy to leave Putney Farm as she had supposed of course she +would be.</p> + +<p>They both stopped talking for a moment and peered at each other through +the thicket of words that held them apart. I told you this was a very +momentous conversation. One sure thing is that the people on the back +seat saw the inside of the surrey as they traveled along, and nothing +else. Red sumac and bronzed beech-trees waved their flags at them in +vain. They kept their eyes fixed on each other intently, each in an +agony of fear lest she hurt the other’s feelings.</p> + +<p>After a pause Aunt Frances came to herself with a start, and said, +affectionately putting her arm around Betsy, “Why, you darling, what +does Aunt Frances care about trouble if her own dear baby-girl is +happy?”</p> + +<p>And Betsy said, resolutely, “Oh, you know, Aunt Frances, I’d <i>love</i> to be +with you!” She ventured one more step through the thicket. “But +honestly, Aunt Frances, <i>won’t</i> it be a bother...?”</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances ventured another step to meet her, “But dear little girls +must be <i>somewhere</i> ...”</p> + +<p>And Betsy almost forgot her caution and burst out, “But I could stay +here! I know they would keep me!”</p> + +<p>Even Aunt Frances’s two veils could not hide the gleam of relief and +hope that came into her pretty, thin, sweet face. She summoned all her +courage and stepped out into the clearing in the middle of the thicket, +asking right out, boldly, “Why, do you like it here, Betsy? Would you +like to stay?”</p> + +<p>And Betsy—she never could remember afterward if she had been careful +enough not to shout too loudly and joyfully—Betsy cried out, “Oh, I +<i>love</i> it here!” There they stood, face to face, looking at each other +with honest and very happy eyes. Aunt Frances threw her arm around Betsy +and asked again, “Are you <i>sure</i>, dear?” and didn’t try to hide her +relief. And neither did Betsy.</p> + +<p>“I could visit you once in a while, when you are somewhere near here,” +suggested Betsy, beaming.</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>yes</i>, I must have <i>some</i> of the time with my darling!” said Aunt +Frances. And this time there was nothing in their hearts that +contradicted their lips.</p> + +<p>They clung to each other in speechless satisfaction as Uncle Henry +guided the surrey up to the marble stepping-stone. Betsy jumped out +first, and while Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Frances out, she was +dashing up the walk like a crazy thing. She flung open the front door +and catapulted into Aunt Abigail just coming out. It was like flinging +herself into a feather-bed....</p> + +<p>“Oh! Oh!” she gasped out. “Aunt Frances is going to be married. And +travel around all the time! And she doesn’t <i>really</i> want me at all! Can’t +I stay here? Can’t I stay here?”</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann was right behind Aunt Abigail, and she heard this. She looked +over their shoulders toward Aunt Frances, who was approaching from +behind, and said, in her usual calm and collected voice: “How do you do, +Frances? Glad to see you, Frances. How well you’re looking! I hear you +are in for congratulations. Who’s the happy man?”</p> + +<p>Betsy was overcome with admiration for her coolness in being able to +talk so in such an exciting moment. She knew Aunt Abigail couldn’t have +done it, for she had sat down in a rocking-chair, and was holding Betsy +on her lap. The little girl could see her wrinkled old hand trembling on +the arm of the chair.</p> + +<p>“I hope that means,” continued Cousin Ann, going as usual straight to +the point, “that we can keep Betsy here with us.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, would you like to?” asked Aunt Frances, fluttering, as though the +idea had never occurred to her before that minute. “Would Elizabeth Ann +really <i>like</i> to stay?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’d <i>like</i> to, all right!” said Betsy, looking confidently up into +Aunt Abigail’s face.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail spoke now. She cleared her throat twice before she could +bring out a word. Then she said, “Why, yes, we’d kind of like to keep +her. We’ve sort of got used to having her around.”</p> + +<p>That’s what she <i>said</i>, but, as you have noticed before on this exciting +day, what people said didn’t matter as much as what they looked; and as +her old lips pronounced these words so quietly the corners of Aunt +Abigail’s mouth were twitching, and she was swallowing hard. She said, +impatiently, to Cousin Ann, “Hand me that handkerchief, Ann!” And as she +blew her nose, she said, “Oh, what an old fool I am!”</p> + +<p>Then, all of a sudden, it was as though a great, fresh breeze had blown +through the house. They all drew a long breath and began to talk loudly +and cheerfully about the weather and Aunt Frances’s trip and how Aunt +Harriet was and which room Aunt Frances was to have and would she leave +her wraps down in the hall or take them upstairs—and, in the midst of +this, Betsy, her heart ready to burst, dashed out of doors, followed by +Shep. She ran madly toward the barn. She did not know where she was +going. She only knew that she must run and jump and shout, or she would +explode.</p> + +<p>Shep ran and jumped because Betsy did.</p> + +<p>To these two wild creatures, careering through the air like bright-blown +autumn leaves, appeared little Molly in the barn door.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m going to stay! I’m going to stay!” screamed Betsy.</p> + +<p>But as Molly had not had any notion of the contrary, she only said, “Of +course, why not?” and went on to something really important, saying, in +a very much capitalized statement, “My kitten can <i>walk</i>! It took <i>three</i> +<i>steps</i> just now.”</p> + +<p>After Aunt Frances got her wraps off, Betsy took her for a tour of +inspection. They went all over the house first, with special emphasis +laid on the living-room. “Isn’t this the loveliest place?” said Betsy, +fervently, looking about her at the white curtains, the bright flowers, +the southern sunshine, the bookcases, and the bright cooking utensils. +It was all full to the brim to her eyes with happiness, and she forgot +entirely that she had thought it a very poor, common kind of room when +she had first seen it. Nor did she notice that Aunt Frances showed no +enthusiasm over it now.</p> + +<p>She stopped for a few moments to wash some potatoes and put them into +the oven for dinner. Aunt Frances opened her eyes at this. “I always see +to the potatoes and the apples, the cooking of them, I mean,” explained +Betsy proudly. “I’ve just learned to make apple pie and brown betty.”</p> + +<p>Then down into the stone-floored milk-room, where Aunt Abigail was +working over butter, and where Betsy, swelling with pride, showed Aunt +Frances how deftly and smoothly she could manipulate the wooden paddle +and make rolls of butter that weighed within an ounce or two of a pound.</p> + +<p>“Mercy, child! Think of your being able to do such things!” said Aunt +Frances, more and more astonished.</p> + +<p>They went out of doors now, Shep bounding by their side. Betsy was +amazed to see that Aunt Frances drew back, quite nervously, whenever the +big dog frisked near her. Out in the barn Betsy had a disappointment. +Aunt Frances just balked absolutely at those ladder-like stairs—“Oh, I +<i>couldn’t</i>! I couldn’t, dear. Do <i>you</i> go up there? Is it quite safe?”</p> + +<p>“Why, <i>Aunt Abigail</i> went up there to see the kittens!” cried Betsy, on +the edge of exasperation. But her heart softened at the sight of Aunt +Frances’s evident distress of mind at the very idea of climbing into the +loft, and she brought the kittens down for inspection, Eleanor mewing +anxiously at the top of the stairs.</p> + +<p>On the way back to the house they had an adventure, a sort of adventure, +and it brought home to Betsy once for all how much she loved dear, sweet +Aunt Frances, and just what kind of love it was.</p> + +<p>As they crossed the barnyard the calf approached them playfully, leaping +stiff-legged into the air, and making a pretense of butting at them with +its hornless young head.</p> + +<p>Betsy and Shep often played with the calf in this way by the half-hour, +and she thought nothing of it now; hardly noticed it, in fact.</p> + +<p>But Aunt Frances gave a loud, piercing shriek, as though she were being +cut into pieces. “Help! <i>help</i>!” she screamed. “Betsy! Oh, Betsy!”</p> + +<p>She had turned as white as a sheet and could not take a single step +forward. “It’s nothing! It’s nothing!” said Betsy, rather impatiently. +“He’s just playing. We often play with him, Shep and I.”</p> + +<p>The calf came a little nearer, with lowered head. “<i>Get</i> away!” said Betsy +indifferently, kicking at him.</p> + +<p>At this hint of masterfulness on Betsy’s part, Aunt Frances cried out, +“Oh, yes, Betsy, <i>do</i> make him go away! Do make him go away!”</p> + +<p>It came over Betsy that Aunt Frances was really frightened, yes, really; +and all at once her impatience disappeared, never to come back again. +She felt toward Aunt Frances just as she did toward little Molly, and +she acted accordingly. She stepped in front of Aunt Frances, picked up a +stick, and hit the calf a blow on the neck with it. He moved away, +startled and injured, looking at his playfellow with reproachful eyes. +But Betsy was relentless. Aunt Frances must not be frightened!</p> + +<p>“Here, Shep! Here, Shep!” she called loudly, and when the big dog came +bounding to her she pointed to the calf and said sternly, “Take him into +the barn! Drive him into the barn, sir!”</p> + +<p>Shep asked nothing better than this command, and charged forward, +barking furiously and leaping into the air as though he intended to eat +the calf up alive. The two swept across the barnyard and into the lower +regions of the barn. In a moment Shep reappeared, his tongue hanging +out, his tail wagging, his eyes glistening, very proud of himself, and +mounted guard at the door.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances hurried along desperately through the gate of the barnyard. +As it fell to behind her she sank down on a rock, breathless, still pale +and agitated. Betsy threw her arms around her in a transport of +affection. She felt that she <i>understood</i> Aunt Frances as nobody else +could, the dear, sweet, gentle, timid aunt! She took the thin, nervous +white fingers in her strong brown hands. “Oh, Aunt Frances, dear, +darling Aunt Frances!” she cried, “how I wish I could <i>always</i> take care +of you.”</p> + +<p>The last of the red and gold leaves were slowly drifting to the ground +as Betsy and Uncle Henry drove back from the station after seeing Aunt +Frances off. They were not silent this time, as when they had gone to +meet her. They were talking cheerfully together, laying their plans for +the winter which was so near. “I must begin to bank the house tomorrow,” +mused Uncle Henry. “And those apples have got to go to the cider-mill, +right off. Don’t you want to ride over on top of them, Betsy, and see +’em made into cider?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my, yes!” said Betsy, “that will be fine! And I must put away +Deborah’s summer clothes and get Cousin Ann to help me make some warm +ones, if I’m going to take her to school in cold weather.”</p> + +<p>As they drove into the yard, they saw Eleanor coming from the direction +of the barn with something big and heavy in her mouth. She held her head +as high as she could, but even so, her burden dragged on the ground, +bumping softly against the rough places on the path. “Look!” said Betsy. +“Just see that great rat Eleanor has caught!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry squinted his old eyes toward the cat for a moment and +laughed. “We’re not the only ones that are getting ready for winter,” he +remarked.</p> + +<p>Betsy did not know what he meant and climbed hastily over the wheel and +ran to see. As she approached Eleanor, the cat laid her burden down with +an air of relief and looked trustfully into her little mistress’s face. +Why, it was one of the kittens! Eleanor was bringing it to the house. +Oh, of course! they mustn’t stay out there in that cold hay-loft now the +cold weather was drawing near. Betsy picked up the little sprawling +thing, trying with weak legs to get around over the rough ground. She +carried it carefully toward the house, Eleanor walking sinuously by her +side and “talking” in little singing, purring <i>miauws</i> to explain her +ideas of kitten-comfort. Betsy felt that she quite understood her. “Yes, +Eleanor, a nice little basket behind the stove with a warm piece of an +old blanket in it. Yes, I’ll fix it for you. It’ll be lovely to have the +whole family there. And I’ll bring the other one in for you.”</p> + +<p>But evidently Eleanor did not understand little girl talk as well as +Betsy understood cat-talk, for a little later, as Betsy turned from the +nest she was making in the corner behind the stove, Eleanor was missing; +and when she ran out toward the barn she met her again, her head +strained painfully back, dragging another fat, heavy kitten, who curled +his pink feet up as high as he could in a vain effort not to have them +knock against the stones. “Now, Eleanor,” said Betsy, a little put out, +“you don’t trust me enough! I was going to get it all right!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Aunt Abigail, as they came into the kitchen, “now you must +begin to teach them to drink.”</p> + +<p>“Goodness!” said Betsy, “don’t they know how to drink already?”</p> + +<p>“You try them and see,” said Aunt Abigail with a mysterious smile.</p> + +<p>So when Uncle Henry brought the pails full of fragrant, warm milk into +the house, Betsy poured out some in a saucer and put the kittens up to +it. She and Molly squatted down on their heels to watch, and before long +they were laughing so that they were rolling on the kitchen floor. At +first the kittens looked every way but at the milk, seeming to see +everything but what was under their noses. Then Graykin (that was +Betsy’s) absent-mindedly walked right through the saucer, emerging with +very wet feet and a very much aggrieved and astonished expression. Molly +screamed with laughter to see him shake his little pink toes and finally +sit down seriously to lick them clean. Then White-bib (Molly’s) put his +head down to the saucer.</p> + +<p>“There! Mine is smarter than yours!” said Molly. But White-bib went on +putting his head down, down, down, clear into the milk nearly up to his +eyes, although he looked very frightened and miserable. Then he jerked +it up quickly and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, such deliriously +funny little baby sneezes! He pawed and pawed at his little pink nose +with his little pink paw until Eleanor took pity on him and came to wash +him off. In the midst of this process she saw the milk, and left off to +lap it up eagerly; and in a jiffy she had drunk every drop and was +licking the saucer loudly with her raspy tongue. And that was the end of +the kittens’ first lesson.</p> + +<p>That evening, as they sat around the lamp, Eleanor came and got up in +Betsy’s lap just like old times. Betsy was playing checkers with Uncle +Henry and interrupted the game to welcome the cat back delightedly. But +Eleanor was uneasy, and kept stopping her toilet to prick up her ears +and look restlessly toward the basket, where the kittens lay curled so +closely together that they looked like one soft ball of gray fur. By and +by Eleanor jumped down heavily and went back to the basket. She stayed +there only a moment, standing over the kittens and licking them +convulsively, and then she came back and got up in Betsy’s lap again.</p> + +<p>“What ails that cat?” said Cousin Ann, noting this pacing and +restlessness.</p> + +<p>“Maybe she wants Betsy to hold her kittens, too,” suggested Aunt +Abigail.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’d love to!” said Betsy, spreading out her knees to make her lap +bigger.</p> + +<p>“But I want my own White-bib myself!” said Molly, looking up from the +beads she was stringing.</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe Eleanor would let you settle it that way,” said Cousin Ann.</p> + +<p>The little girls ran over to the basket and brought back each her own +kitten. Eleanor watched them anxiously, but as soon as they sat down she +jumped up happily into Betsy’s lap and curled down close to little +Graykin. This time she was completely satisfied, and her loud purring +filled the room with a peaceable murmur.</p> + +<p>“There, now you’re fixed for the winter,” said Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>By and by, after Cousin Ann had popped some corn, old Shep got off the +couch and came to stand by Betsy’s knee to get an occasional handful. +Eleanor opened one eye, recognized a friend, and shut it sleepily. But +the little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monster +so near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up his +ridiculous little tail, opened his absurd, little pink mouth in a soft, +baby s-s-s-, and struck savagely at old Shep’s good-natured face with a +soft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pride +in the intrepid little morsel. She burst into laughter, but she picked +it up and held it lovingly close to her cheek. What fun it was going to +be to see those kittens grow up!</p> + +<p>Old Shep padded back softly to the couch, his toe-nails clicking on the +floor, hoisted himself heavily up, and went to sleep. The kitten +subsided into a ball again. Eleanor stirred and stretched in her sleep +and laid her head in utter trust on her little mistress’s hand. After +that Betsy moved the checkers only with her other hand.</p> + +<p>In the intervals of the game, while Uncle Henry was pondering over his +moves, the little girl looked down at her pets and listened absently to +the keen autumnal wind that swept around the old house, shaking the +shutters and rattling the windows. A stick of wood in the stove burned +in two and fell together with a soft, whispering sound. The lamp cast a +steady radiance on Uncle Henry bent seriously over the checker-board, on +Molly’s blooming, round cheeks and bright hair, on Aunt Abigail’s rosy, +cheerful, wrinkled old face, and on Cousin Ann’s quiet, clear, dark +eyes....</p> + +<p>That room was full to the brim of something beautiful, and Betsy knew +what it was. Its name was Happiness.</p> + +<p>THE END.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 5347-h.htm or 5347-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5347/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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--- /dev/null +++ b/5347-h/images/whats_matter_sml.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3795383 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5347 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5347) diff --git a/old/5347 2011-01-31.txt b/old/5347 2011-01-31.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bce3ab1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5347 2011-01-31.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5292 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Understood Betsy + +Author: Dorothy Canfield + + +Posting Date: January 31, 2011 [EBook #5347] +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5347] +[This file was first posted on July 3, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + +UNDERSTOOD BETSY + +BY + +DOROTHY CANFIELD +Author of "The Bent Twig," etc. + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY +ADA C. WILLIAMSON + + + + +[Illustration: Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the +top of one spectacle glass. (Page 34)] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I Aunt Harriet Has a Cough + II Betsy Holds the Reins + III A Short Morning + IV Betsy Goes to School + V What Grade is Betsy? + VI If You Don't Like Conversation in a Book Skip this Chapter! + VII Elizabeth Ann Fails in an Examination + VIII Betsy Starts a Sewing Society + IX The New Clothes Fail + X Betsy Has a Birthday + XI "Understood Aunt Frances" + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +Uncle Henry looked at her, eying her sidewise +over the top of one spectacle-glass Frontispiece + +Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor. +"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think +it's going to be real nice, having a little girl +in the house again" + +She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair. + +"Oh, he's asking for more!" cried Elizabeth Ann + +Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and started across + +"What's the matter, Molly? What's the matter?" + +Betsy and Ellen and the old doll + +He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms + +Never were dishes washed better! + +Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her +lips and winking her eyes + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AUNT HARRIET HAS A COUGH + +When this story begins, Elizabeth Ann, who is the heroine of it, was a +little girl of nine, who lived with her Great-aunt Harriet in a +medium-sized city in a medium-sized State in the middle of this country; +and that's all you need to know about the place, for it's not the +important thing in the story; and anyhow you know all about it because +it was probably very much like the place you live in yourself. + +Elizabeth Ann's Great-aunt Harriet was a widow who was not very rich or +very poor, and she had one daughter, Frances, who gave piano lessons to +little girls. They kept a "girl" whose name was Grace and who had asthma +dreadfully and wasn't very much of a "girl" at all, being nearer fifty +than forty. Aunt Harriet, who was very tender-hearted, kept her chiefly +because she couldn't get any other place on account of her coughing so +you could hear her all over the house. + +So now you know the names of all the household. And this is how they +looked: Aunt Harriet was very small and thin and old, Grace was very +small and thin and middle-aged, Aunt Frances (for Elizabeth Ann called +her "Aunt," although she was really, of course, a +first-cousin-once-removed) was small and thin and if the light wasn't +too strong might be called young, and Elizabeth Ann was very small and +thin and little. And yet they all had plenty to eat. I wonder what was +the matter with them? + +It was certainly not because they were not good, for no womenkind in all +the world had kinder hearts than they. You have heard how Aunt Harriet +kept Grace (in spite of the fact that she was a very depressing person) +on account of her asthma; and when Elizabeth Ann's father and mother +both died when she was a baby, although there were many other cousins +and uncles and aunts in the family, these two women fairly rushed upon +the little baby-orphan, taking her home and surrounding her henceforth +with the most loving devotion. + +They had said to themselves that it was their manifest duty to save the +dear little thing from the other relatives, who had no idea about how to +bring up a sensitive, impressionable child, and they were sure, from the +way Elizabeth Ann looked at six months, that she was going to be a +sensitive, impressionable child. It is possible also that they were a +little bored with their empty life in their rather forlorn, little brick +house in the medium-sized city, and that they welcomed the occupation +and new interests which a child would bring in. + +But they thought that they chiefly desired to save dear Edward's child +from the other kin, especially from the Putney cousins, who had written +down from their Vermont farm that they would be glad to take the little +girl into their family. But "ANYTHING but the Putneys!" said Aunt +Harriet, a great many times. They were related only by marriage to her, +and she had her own opinion of them as a stiffnecked, cold-hearted, +undemonstrative, and hard set of New Englanders. "I boarded near them +one summer when you were a baby, Frances, and I shall never forget the +way they were treating some children visiting there! ... Oh, no, I don't +mean they abused them or beat them ... but such lack of sympathy, such +perfect indifference to the sacred sensitiveness of child-life, such a +starving of the child-heart ... No, I shall never forget it! They had +chores to do ... as though they had been hired men!" + +Aunt Harriet never meant to say any of this when Elizabeth Ann could +hear, but the little girl's ears were as sharp as little girls' ears +always are, and long before she was nine she knew all about the opinion +Aunt Harriet had of the Putneys. She did not know, to be sure, what +"chores" were, but she took it confidently from Aunt Harriet's voice +that they were something very, very dreadful. + +There was certainly neither coldness nor hardness in the way Aunt +Harriet and Aunt Frances treated Elizabeth Ann. They had really given +themselves up to the new responsibility, especially Aunt Frances, who +was very conscientious about everything. As soon as the baby came there +to live, Aunt Frances stopped reading novels and magazines, and re-read +one book after another which told her how to bring up children. And she +joined a Mothers' Club which met once a week. And she took a +correspondence course in mothercraft from a school in Chicago which +teaches that business by mail. So you can see that by the time Elizabeth +Ann was nine years old Aunt Frances must have known all that anybody can +know about how to bring up children. And Elizabeth Ann got the benefit +of it all. + +She and her Aunt Frances were simply inseparable. Aunt Frances shared in +all Elizabeth Ann's doings and even in all her thoughts. She was +especially anxious to share all the little girl's thoughts, because she +felt that the trouble with most children is that they are not +understood, and she was determined that she would thoroughly understand +Elizabeth Ann down to the bottom of her little mind. Aunt Frances (down +in the bottom of her own mind) thought that her mother had never REALLY +understood her, and she meant to do better by Elizabeth Ann. She also +loved the little girl with all her heart, and longed, above everything +in the world, to protect her from all harm and to keep her happy and +strong and well. + +And yet Elizabeth Ann was neither very strong nor well. And as to her +being happy, you can judge for yourself when you have read all this +story. She was very small for her age, with a rather pale face and big +dark eyes which had in them a frightened, wistful expression that went +to Aunt Frances's tender heart and made her ache to take care of +Elizabeth Ann better and better. + +Aunt Frances was afraid of a great many things herself, and she knew how +to sympathize with timidity. She was always quick to reassure the little +girl with all her might and main whenever there was anything to fear. +When they were out walking (Aunt Frances took her out for a walk up one +block and down another every single day, no matter how tired the music +lessons had made her), the aunt's eyes were always on the alert to avoid +anything which might frighten Elizabeth Ann. If a big dog trotted by, +Aunt Frances always said, hastily: "There, there, dear! That's a NICE +doggie, I'm sure. I don't believe he ever bites little girls. ... MERCY! +Elizabeth Ann, don't go near him! ... Here, darling, just get on the +other side of Aunt Frances if he scares you so" (by that time Elizabeth +Ann was always pretty well scared), "and perhaps we'd better just turn +this corner and walk in the other direction." If by any chance the dog +went in that direction too, Aunt Frances became a prodigy of valiant +protection, putting the shivering little girl behind her, threatening +the animal with her umbrella, and saying in a trembling voice, "Go away, +sir! Go AWAY!" + +Or if it thundered and lightened, Aunt Frances always dropped everything +she might be doing and held Elizabeth Ann tightly in her arms until it +was all over. And at night--Elizabeth Ann did not sleep very well--when +the little girl woke up screaming with a bad dream, it was always dear +Aunt Frances who came to her bedside, a warm wrapper over her nightgown +so that she need not hurry back to her own room, a candle lighting up +her tired, kind face. She always took the little girl into her thin arms +and held her close against her thin breast. "TELL Aunt Frances all about +your naughty dream, darling," she would murmur, "so's to get it off your +mind!" + +She had read in her books that you can tell a great deal about +children's inner lives by analyzing their dreams, and besides, if she +did not urge Elizabeth Ann to tell it, she was afraid the sensitive, +nervous little thing would "lie awake and brood over it." This was the +phrase she always used the next day to her mother when Aunt Harriet +exclaimed about her paleness and the dark rings under her eyes. So she +listened patiently while the little girl told her all about the fearful +dreams she had, the great dogs with huge red mouths that ran after her, +the Indians who scalped her, her schoolhouse on fire so that she had to +jump from a third-story window and was all broken to bits--once in a +while Elizabeth Ann got so interested in all this that she went on and +made up more awful things even than she had dreamed, and told long +stories which showed her to be a child of great imagination. But all +these dreams and continuations of dreams Aunt Frances wrote down the +first thing the next morning, and, with frequent references to a thick +book full of hard words, she tried her best to puzzle out from them +exactly what kind of little girl Elizabeth Ann really was. + +There was one dream, however, that even conscientious Aunt Frances never +tried to analyze, because it was too sad. Elizabeth Ann dreamed +sometimes that she was dead and lay in a little white coffin with white +roses over her. Oh, that made Aunt Frances cry, and so did Elizabeth +Ann. It was very touching. Then, after a long, long time of talk and +tears and sobs and hugs, the little girl would begin to get drowsy, and +Aunt Frances would rock her to sleep in her arms, and lay her down ever +so quietly, and slip away to try to get a little nap herself before it +was time to get up. + +At a quarter of nine every weekday morning Aunt Frances dropped whatever +else she was doing, took Elizabeth Ann's little, thin, white hand +protectingly in hers, and led her through the busy streets to the big +brick school-building where the little girl had always gone to school. +It was four stories high, and when all the classes were in session there +were six hundred children under that one roof. You can imagine, perhaps, +the noise there was on the playground just before school! Elizabeth Ann +shrank from it with all her soul, and clung more tightly than ever to +Aunt Frances's hand as she was led along through the crowded, shrieking +masses of children. Oh, how glad she was that she had Aunt Frances there +to take care of her, though as a matter of fact nobody noticed the +little thin girl at all, and her very own classmates would hardly have +known whether she came to school or not. Aunt Frances took her safely +through the ordeal of the playground, then up the long, broad stairs, +and pigeonholed her carefully in her own schoolroom. She was in the +third grade,--3A, you understand, which is almost the fourth. + +Then at noon Aunt Frances was waiting there, a patient, never-failing +figure, to walk home with her little charge; and in the afternoon the +same thing happened over again. On the way to and from school they +talked about what had happened in the class. Aunt Frances believed in +sympathizing with a child's life, so she always asked about every little +thing, and remembered to inquire about the continuation of every +episode, and sympathized with all her heart over the failure in mental +arithmetic, and triumphed over Elizabeth Ann's beating the Schmidt girl +in spelling, and was indignant over the teacher's having pets. Sometimes +in telling over some very dreadful failure or disappointment Elizabeth +Ann would get so wrought up that she would cry. This always brought the +ready tears to Aunt Frances's kind eyes, and with many soothing words +and nervous, tremulous caresses she tried to make life easier for poor +little Elizabeth Ann. The days when they had cried they could neither of +them eat much luncheon. + +After school and on Saturdays there was always the daily walk, and there +were lessons, all kinds of lessons--piano-lessons of course, and +nature-study lessons out of an excellent book Aunt Frances had bought, +and painting lessons, and sewing lessons, and even a little French, +although Aunt Frances was not very sure about her own pronunciation. She +wanted to give the little girl every possible advantage, you see. They +were really inseparable. Elizabeth Ann once said to some ladies calling +on her aunts that whenever anything happened in school, the first thing +she thought of was what Aunt Frances would think of it. + +"Why is that?" they asked, looking at Aunt Frances, who was blushing +with pleasure. + +"Oh, she is so interested in my school work! And she UNDERSTANDS me!" +said Elizabeth Ann, repeating the phrases she had heard so often. + +Aunt Frances's eyes filled with happy tears. She called Elizabeth Ann to +her and kissed her and gave her as big a hug as her thin arms could +manage. Elizabeth Ann was growing tall very fast. One of the visiting +ladies said that before long she would be as big as her auntie, and a +troublesome young lady. Aunt Frances said: "I have had her from the time +she was a little baby and there has scarcely been an hour she has been +out of my sight. I'll always have her confidence. You'll always tell +Aunt Frances EVERYTHING, won't you, darling?" Elizabeth Ann resolved to +do this always, even if, as now, she often had to invent things to tell. + +Aunt Frances went on, to the callers: "But I do wish she weren't so thin +and pale and nervous. I suppose it is the exciting modern life that is +so bad for children. I try to see that she has plenty of fresh air. I go +out with her for a walk every single day. But we have taken all the +walks around here so often that we're rather tired of them. It's often +hard to know how to get her out enough. I think I'll have to get the +doctor to come and see her and perhaps give her a tonic." To Elizabeth +Ann she added, hastily: "Now don't go getting notions in your head, +darling. Aunt Frances doesn't think there's anything VERY much the +matter with you. You'll be all right again soon if you just take the +doctor's medicine nicely. Aunt Frances will take care of her precious +little girl. SHE'll make the bad sickness go away." Elizabeth Ann, who +had not known before that she was sick, had a picture of herself lying +in the little white coffin, all covered over with white. ... In a few +minutes Aunt Frances was obliged to excuse herself from her callers and +devote herself entirely to taking care of Elizabeth Ann. + +So one day, after this had happened several times, Aunt Frances really +did send for the doctor, who came briskly in, just as Elizabeth Ann had +always seen him, with his little square black bag smelling of leather, +his sharp eyes, and the air of bored impatience which he always wore in +that house. Elizabeth Ann was terribly afraid to see him, for she felt +in her bones he would say she had galloping consumption and would die +before the leaves cast a shadow. This was a phrase she had picked up +from Grace, whose conversation, perhaps on account of her asthma, was +full of references to early graves and quick declines. + +And yet--did you ever hear of such a case before?--although Elizabeth +Ann when she first stood up before the doctor had been quaking with fear +lest he discover some deadly disease in her, she was very much hurt +indeed when, after thumping her and looking at her lower eyelid inside +out, and listening to her breathing, he pushed her away with a little +jerk and said: "There's nothing in the world the matter with that child. +She's as sound as a nut! What she needs is ..."--he looked for a moment +at Aunt Frances's thin, anxious face, with the eyebrows drawn together +in a knot of conscientiousness, and then he looked at Aunt Harriet's +thin, anxious face with the eyebrows drawn up that very same way, and +then he glanced at Grace's thin, anxious face peering from the door +waiting for his verdict--and then he drew a long breath, shut his lips +and his little black case very tightly, and did not go on to say what it +was that Elizabeth Ann needed. + +Of course Aunt Frances didn't let him off as easily as that, you may be +sure. She fluttered around him as he tried to go, and she said all sorts +of fluttery things to him, like "But, Doctor, she hasn't gained a pound +in three months ... and her sleep ... and her appetite ... and her +nerves ..." + +[Illustration: Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.] + +The doctor said back to her, as he put on his hat, all the things +doctors always say under such conditions: "More beefsteak ... plenty of +fresh air ... more sleep ... SHE'll be all right ..." but his voice did not +sound as though he thought what he was saying amounted to much. Nor did +Elizabeth Ann. She had hoped for some spectacular red pills to be taken +every half-hour, like those Grace's doctor gave her whenever she felt +low in her mind. + +And just then something happened which changed Elizabeth Ann's life +forever and ever. It was a very small thing, too. Aunt Harriet coughed. +Elizabeth Ann did not think it at all a bad-sounding cough in comparison +with Grace's hollow whoop; Aunt Harriet had been coughing like that ever +since the cold weather set in, for three or four months now, and nobody +had thought anything of it, because they were all so much occupied in +taking care of the sensitive, nervous little girl who needed so much +care. + +And yet, at the sound of that little discreet cough behind Aunt +Harriet's hand, the doctor whirled around and fixed his sharp eyes on +her, with all the bored, impatient look gone, the first time Elizabeth +Ann had ever seen him look interested. "What's that? What's that?" he +said, going over quickly to Aunt Harriet. He snatched out of his little +bag a shiny thing with two rubber tubes attached, and he put the ends of +the tubes in his ears and the shiny thing up against Aunt Harriet, who +was saying, "It's nothing, Doctor ... a little teasing cough I've had this +winter. And I meant to tell you, too, but I forgot it, that that sore +spot on my lungs doesn't go away as it ought to." + +The doctor motioned her very impolitely to stop talking, and listened +very hard through his little tubes. Then he turned around and looked at +Aunt Frances as though he were angry at her. He said, "Take the child +away and then come back here yourself." + +And that was almost all that Elizabeth Ann ever knew of the forces which +swept her away from the life which had always gone on, revolving about +her small person, exactly the same ever since she could remember. + +You have heard so much about tears in the account of Elizabeth Ann's +life so far that I won't tell you much about the few days which +followed, as the family talked over and hurriedly prepared to obey the +doctor's verdict, which was that Aunt Harriet was very, very sick and +must go away at once to a warm climate, and Aunt Frances must go, too, +but not Elizabeth Ann, for Aunt Frances would need to give all her time +to taking care of Aunt Harriet. And anyhow the doctor didn't think it +best, either for Aunt Harriet or for Elizabeth Ann, to have them in the +same house. + +Grace couldn't go of course, but to everybody's surprise she said she +didn't mind, because she had a bachelor brother, who kept a grocery +store, who had been wanting her for years to go and keep house for him. +She said she had stayed on just out of conscientiousness because she +knew Aunt Harriet couldn't get along without her! And if you notice, +that's the way things often happen to very, very conscientious people. + +Elizabeth Ann, however, had no grocer brother. She had, it is true, a +great many relatives, and of course it was settled she should go to some +of them till Aunt Frances could take her back. For the time being, just +now, while everything was so distracted and confused, she was to go to +stay with the Lathrop cousins, who lived in the same city, although it +was very evident that the Lathrops were not perfectly crazy with delight +over the prospect. + +Still, something had to be done at once, and Aunt Frances was so frantic +with the packing up, and the moving men coming to take the furniture to +storage, and her anxiety over her mother--she had switched to Aunt +Harriet, you see, all the conscientiousness she had lavished on +Elizabeth Ann--nothing much could be extracted from her about Elizabeth +Ann. "Just keep her for the present, Molly!" she said to Cousin Molly +Lathrop. "I'll do something soon. I'll write you. I'll make another +arrangement ... but just NOW...." + +Her voice was quavering on the edge of tears, and Cousin Molly Lathrop, +who hated scenes, said hastily, "Yes, oh, yes, of course. For the +present ..." and went away, thinking that she didn't see why she should +have ALL the disagreeable things to do. When she had her husband's +tyrannical old mother to take care of, wasn't that enough, without +adding to the household such a nervous, spoiled, morbid young one as +Elizabeth Ann! + +Elizabeth Ann did not of course for a moment dream that Cousin Molly was +thinking any such things about her, but she could not help seeing that +Cousin Molly was not any too enthusiastic about taking her in; and she +was already feeling terribly forlorn about the sudden, unexpected change +in Aunt Frances, who had been SO wrapped up in her and now was just as +much wrapped up in Aunt Harriet. Do you know, I am sorry for Elizabeth +Ann, and, what's more, I have been ever since this story began. + +Well, since I promised you that I was not going to tell about more +tears, I won't say a single word about the day when the two aunts went +away on the train, for there is nothing much but tears to tell about, +except perhaps an absent look in Aunt Frances's eyes which hurt the +little girl's feelings dreadfully. + +And then Cousin Molly took the hand of the sobbing little girl and led +her back to the Lathrop house. But if you think you are now going to +hear about the Lathrops, you are quite mistaken, for just at this moment +old Mrs. Lathrop took a hand in the matter. She was Cousin Molly's +husband's mother, and, of course, no relation at all to Elizabeth Ann, +and so was less enthusiastic than anybody else. All that Elizabeth Ann +ever saw of this old lady, who now turned the current of her life again, +was her head, sticking out of a second-story window; and that's all that +you need to know about her, either. It was a very much agitated old +head, and it bobbed and shook with the intensity with which the +imperative old voice called upon Cousin Molly and Elizabeth Ann to stop +right there where they were on the front walk. + +"The doctor says that what's the matter with Bridget is scarlet fever, +and we've all got to be quarantined. There's no earthly sense bringing +that child in to be sick and have it, and be nursed, and make the +quarantine twice as long!" + +"But, Mother!" called Cousin Molly, "I can't leave the child in the +middle of the street!" + +Elizabeth Ann was actually glad to hear her say that, because she was +feeling so awfully unwanted, which is, if you think of it, not a very +cheerful feeling for a little girl who has been the hub round which a +whole household was revolving. + +"You don't HAVE to!" shouted old Mrs. Lathrop out of her second-story +window. Although she did not add "You gump!" aloud, you could feel she +was meaning just that. "You don't have to! You can just send her to the +Putney cousins. All nonsense about her not going there in the first +place. They invited her the minute they heard of Harriet's being so bad. +They're the natural ones to take her in. Abigail is her mother's own +aunt, and Ann is her own first-cousin-once-removed ... just as close as +Harriet and Frances are, and MUCH closer than you! And on a farm and +all ... just the place for her!" + +"But how under the sun, Mother!" shouted Cousin Molly back, "can I GET +her to the Putneys'? You can't send a child of nine a thousand miles +without ..." + +Old Mrs. Lathrop looked again as though she were saying "You gump!" and +said aloud, "Why, there's James, going to New York on business in a few +days anyhow. He can just go now, and take her along and put her on the +right train at Albany. If he wires from here, they'll meet her in +Hillsboro." + +And that was just what happened. Perhaps you may have guessed by this +time that when old Mrs. Lathrop issued orders they were usually obeyed. +As to who the Bridget was who had the scarlet fever, I know no more than +you. I take it, from the name, she was the cook. Unless, indeed, old +Mrs. Lathrop made her up for the occasion, which I think she would have +been quite capable of doing, don't you? + +At any rate, with no more ifs or ands, Elizabeth Ann's satchel was +packed, and Cousin James Lathrop's satchel was packed, and the two set +off together, the big, portly, middle-aged man quite as much afraid of +his mother as Elizabeth Ann was. But he was going to New York, and it is +conceivable that he thought once or twice on the trip that there were +good times in New York as well as business engagements, whereas poor +Elizabeth Ann was being sent straight to the one place in the world +where there were no good times at all. Aunt Harriet had said so, ever so +many times. Poor Elizabeth Ann! + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BETSY HOLDS THE REINS + +You can imagine, perhaps, the dreadful terror of Elizabeth Ann as the +train carried her along toward Vermont and the horrible Putney Farm! It +had happened so quickly--her satchel packed, the telegram sent, the +train caught--that she had not had time to get her wits together, assert +herself, and say that she would NOT go there! Besides, she had a sinking +notion that perhaps they wouldn't pay any attention to her if she did. +The world had come to an end now that Aunt Frances wasn't there to take +care of her! Even in the most familiar air she could only half breathe +without Aunt Frances! And now she was not even being taken to the Putney +Farm! She was being sent! + +She shrank together in her seat, more and more frightened as the end of +her journey came nearer, and looked out dismally at the winter +landscape, thinking it hideous with its brown bare fields, its brown +bare trees, and the quick-running little streams hurrying along, swollen +with the January thaw which had taken all the snow from the hills. She +had heard her elders say about her so many times that she could not +stand the cold, that she shivered at the very thought of cold weather, +and certainly nothing could look colder than that bleak country into +which the train was now slowly making its way. + +The engine puffed and puffed with great laboring breaths that shook +Elizabeth Ann's diaphragm up and down, but the train moved more and more +slowly. Elizabeth Ann could feel under her feet how the floor of the car +was tipped up as it crept along the steep incline. "Pretty stiff grade +here?" said a passenger to the conductor. + +"You bet!" he assented. "But Hillsboro is the next station and that's at +the top of the hill. We go down after that to Rutland." He turned to +Elizabeth Ann--"Say, little girl, didn't your uncle say you were to get +off at Hillsboro? You'd better be getting your things together." + +Poor Elizabeth Ann's knees knocked against each other with fear of the +strange faces she was to encounter, and when the conductor came to help +her get off, he had to carry the white, trembling child as well as her +satchel. But there was only one strange face there,--not another soul in +sight at the little wooden station. A grim-faced old man in a fur cap +and heavy coat stood by a lumber wagon. + +"This is her, Mr. Putney," said the conductor, touching his cap, and +went back to the train, which went away shrieking for a nearby crossing +and setting the echoes ringing from one mountain to another. + +There was Elizabeth Ann alone with her much-feared Great-uncle Henry. He +nodded to her, and drew out from the bottom of the wagon a warm, large +cape, which he slipped over her shoulders. "The women folks were afraid +you'd git cold drivin'," he explained. He then lifted her high to the +seat, tossed her satchel into the wagon, climbed up himself, and clucked +to his horses. Elizabeth Ann had always before thought it an essential +part of railway journeys to be much kissed at the end and asked a great +many times how you had "stood the trip." + +She sat very still on the high lumber seat, feeling very forlorn and +neglected. Her feet dangled high above the floor of the wagon. She felt +herself to be in the most dangerous place she had ever dreamed of in her +worst dreams. Oh, why wasn't Aunt Frances there to take care of her! It +was just like one of her bad dreams--yes, it was horrible! She would +fall, she would roll under the wheels and be crushed to ... She looked up +at Uncle Henry with the wild, strained eyes of nervous terror which +always brought Aunt Frances to her in a rush to "hear all about it," to +sympathize, to reassure. + +Uncle Henry looked down at her soberly, his hard, weather-beaten old +face quite unmoved. "Here, you drive, will you, for a piece?" he said +briefly, putting the reins into her hands, hooking his spectacles over +his ears, and drawing out a stubby pencil and a bit of paper. "I've got +some figgering to do. You pull on the left-hand rein to make 'em go to +the left and t'other way for t'other way, though 'tain't likely we'll +meet any teams." + +Elizabeth Ann had been so near one of her wild screams of terror that +now, in spite of her instant absorbed interest in the reins, she gave a +queer little yelp. She was all ready with the explanation, her +conversations with Aunt Frances having made her very fluent in +explanations of her own emotions. She would tell Uncle Henry about how +scared she had been, and how she had just been about to scream and +couldn't keep back that one little ... But Uncle Henry seemed not to have +heard her little howl, or, if he had, didn't think it worth +conversation, for he ... oh, the horses were CERTAINLY going to one side! +She hastily decided which was her right hand (she had never been forced +to know it so quickly before) and pulled furiously on that rein. The +horses turned their hanging heads a little, and, miraculously, there +they were in the middle of the road again. + +Elizabeth Ann drew a long breath of relief and pride, and looked to +Uncle Henry for praise. But he was busily setting down figures as though +he were getting his 'rithmetic lesson for the next day and had not +noticed ... Oh, there they were going to the left again! This time, in her +flurry, she made a mistake about which hand was which and pulled wildly +on the left line! The horses docilely walked off the road into a shallow +ditch, the wagon tilted ... help! Why didn't Uncle Henry help! Uncle Henry +continued intently figuring on the back of his envelope. + +Elizabeth Ann, the perspiration starting out on her forehead, pulled on +the other line. The horses turned back up the little slope, the wheel +grated sickeningly against the wagonbox--she was SURE they would tip +over! But there! somehow there they were in the road, safe and sound, +with Uncle Henry adding up a column of figures. If he only knew, thought +the little girl, if he only KNEW the danger he had been in, and how he +had been saved...! But she must think of some way to remember, for sure, +which her right hand was, and avoid that hideous mistake again. + +And then suddenly something inside Elizabeth Ann's head stirred and +moved. It came to her, like a clap, that she needn't know which was +right or left at all. If she just pulled the way she wanted them to +go--the horses would never know whether it was the right or the left +rein! + +It is possible that what stirred inside her head at that moment was her +brain, waking up. She was nine years old, and she was in the third A +grade at school, but that was the first time she had ever had a whole +thought of her very own. At home, Aunt Frances had always known exactly +what she was doing, and had helped her over the hard places before she +even knew they were there; and at school her teachers had been carefully +trained to think faster than the scholars. Somebody had always been +explaining things to Elizabeth Ann so industriously that she had never +found out a single thing for herself before. This was a very small +discovery, but an original one. Elizabeth Ann was as excited about it as +a mother-bird over the first egg that hatches. + +She forgot how afraid she was of Uncle Henry, and poured out to him her +discovery. "It's not right or left that matters!" she ended +triumphantly; "it's which way you want to go!" Uncle Henry looked at her +attentively as she talked, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one +spectacle-glass. When she finished--"Well, now, that's so," he admitted, +and returned to his arithmetic. + +It was a short remark, shorter than any Elizabeth Ann had ever heard +before. Aunt Frances and her teachers always explained matters at +length. But it had a weighty, satisfying ring to it. The little girl +felt the importance of having her statement recognized. She turned back +to her driving. + +The slow, heavy plow horses had stopped during her talk with Uncle +Henry. They stood as still now as though their feet had grown to the +road. Elizabeth Ann looked up at the old man for instructions. But he +was deep in his figures. She had been taught never to interrupt people, +so she sat still and waited for him to tell her what to do. + +But, although they were driving in the midst of a winter thaw, it was a +pretty cold day, with an icy wind blowing down the back of her neck. The +early winter twilight was beginning to fall, and she felt rather empty. +She grew very tired of waiting, and remembered how the grocer's boy at +home had started his horse. Then, summoning all her courage, with an +apprehensive glance at Uncle Henry's arithmetical silence, she slapped +the reins up and down on the horses' backs and made the best imitation +she could of the grocer's boy's cluck. The horses lifted their heads, +they leaned forward, they put one foot before the other ... they were off! +The color rose hot on Elizabeth Ann's happy face. If she had started a +big red automobile she would not have been prouder. For it was the first +thing she had ever done all herself ... every bit ... every smitch! She had +thought of it and she had done it. And it had worked! + +Now for what seemed to her a long, long time she drove, drove so hard +she could think of nothing else. She guided the horses around stones, +she cheered them through freezing mud-puddles of melted snow, she kept +them in the anxiously exact middle of the road. She was quite astonished +when Uncle Henry put his pencil and paper away, took the reins from her +hands, and drove into a yard, on one side of which was a little low +white house and on the other a big red barn. He did not say a word, but +she guessed that this was Putney Farm. + +Two women in gingham dresses and white aprons came out of the house. One +was old and one might be called young, just like Aunt Harriet and Aunt +Frances. But they looked very different from those aunts. The +dark-haired one was very tall and strong-looking, and the white-haired +one was very rosy and fat. They both looked up at the little, thin, +white-faced girl on the high seat, and smiled. "Well, Father, you got +her, I see," said the brown-haired one. She stepped up to the wagon and +held up her arms to the child. "Come on, Betsy, and get some supper," +she said, as though Elizabeth Ann had lived there all her life and had +just driven into town and back. + +And that was the arrival of Elizabeth Ann at Putney Farm. + +The brown-haired one took a long, strong step or two and swung her up on +the porch. "You take her in, Mother," she said. "I'll help Father +unhitch." + +The fat, rosy, white-haired one took Elizabeth Ann's skinny, cold little +hand in her soft warm fat one, and led her along to the open kitchen +door. "I'm your Aunt Abigail," she said. "Your mother's aunt, you know. +And that's your Cousin Ann that lifted you down, and it was your Uncle +Henry that brought you out from town." She shut the door and went on, "I +don't know if your Aunt Harriet ever happened to tell you about us, and +so ..." + +Elizabeth Ann interrupted her hastily, the recollection of all Aunt +Harriet's remarks vividly before her. "Oh yes, oh yes!" she said. "She +always talked about you. She talked about you a lot, she ..." The little +girl stopped short and bit her lip. + +If Aunt Abigail guessed from the expression on Elizabeth Ann's face what +kind of talking Aunt Harriet's had been, she showed it only by a +deepening of the wrinkles all around her eyes. She said, gravely: "Well, +that's a good thing. You know all about us then." She turned to the +stove and took out of the oven a pan of hot baked beans, very brown and +crispy on top (Elizabeth Ann detested beans), and said, over her +shoulder, "Take your things off, Betsy, and hang 'em on that lowest hook +back of the door. That's YOUR hook." + +The little girl fumbled forlornly with the fastenings of her cape and +the buttons of her coat. At home, Aunt Frances or Grace had always taken +off her wraps and put them away for her. When, very sorry for herself, +she turned away from the hook, Aunt Abigail said: "Now you must be cold. +Pull a chair right up here by the stove." She was stepping around +quickly as she put supper on the table. The floor shook under her. She +was one of the fattest people Elizabeth Ann had ever seen. After living +with Aunt Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace the little girl could +scarcely believe her eyes. She stared and stared. + +Aunt Abigail seemed not to notice this. Indeed, she seemed for the +moment to have forgotten all about the newcomer. Elizabeth Ann sat on +the wooden chair, her feet hanging (she had been taught that it was not +manners to put her feet on the rungs), looking about her with miserable, +homesick eyes. What an ugly, low-ceilinged room, with only a couple of +horrid kerosene lamps for light; and they didn't keep any girl, +evidently; and they were going to eat right in the kitchen like poor +people; and nobody spoke to her or looked at her or asked her how she +had "stood the trip"; and here she was, millions of miles away from Aunt +Frances, without anybody to take care of her. She began to feel the +tight place in her throat which, by thinking about hard, she could +always turn into tears, and presently her eyes began to water. + +Aunt Abigail was not looking at her at all, but she now stopped short in +one of her rushes to the table, set down the butter-plate she was +carrying, and said "There!" as though she had forgotten something. She +stooped--it was perfectly amazing how spry she was--and pulled out from +under the stove a half-grown kitten, very sleepy, yawning and +stretching, and blinking its eyes. "There, Betsy!" said Aunt Abigail, +putting the little yellow and white ball into the child's lap. "There is +one of old Whitey's kittens that didn't get given away last summer, and +she pesters the life out of me. I've got so much to do. When I heard you +were coming, I thought maybe you would take care of her for me. If you +want to, enough to bother to feed her and all, you can have her for your +own." + +Elizabeth Ann bent her thin face over the warm, furry, friendly little +animal. She could not speak. She had always wanted a kitten, but Aunt +Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace had always been sure that cats +brought diphtheria and tonsilitis and all sorts of dreadful diseases to +delicate little girls. She was afraid to move for fear the little thing +would jump down and run away, but as she bent cautiously toward it the +necktie of her middy blouse fell forward and the kitten in the middle of +a yawn struck swiftly at it with a soft paw. Then, still too sleepy to +play, it turned its head and began to lick Elizabeth Ann's hand with a +rough little tongue. Perhaps you can imagine how thrilled the little +girl was at this! + +She held her hand perfectly still until the kitten stopped and began +suddenly washing its own face, and then she put her hands under it and +very awkwardly lifted it up, burying her face in the soft fur. The +kitten yawned again, and from the pink-lined mouth came a fresh, milky +breath. "Oh!" said Elizabeth Ann under her breath. "Oh, you DARLING!" +The kitten looked at her with bored, speculative eyes. + +Elizabeth Ann looked up now at Aunt Abigail and said, "What is its name, +please?" But the old woman was busy turning over a griddle full of +pancakes and did not hear. On the train Elizabeth Ann had resolved not +to call these hateful relatives by the same name she had for dear Aunt +Frances, but she now forgot that resolution and said, again, "Oh, Aunt +Abigail, what is its name?" + +Aunt Abigail faced her blankly. "Name?" she asked. "Whose ... oh, the +kitten's? Goodness, child, I stopped racking my brain for kitten names +sixty years ago. Name it yourself. It's yours." + +Elizabeth Ann had already named it in her own mind, the name she had +always thought she WOULD call a kitten by, if she ever had one. It was +Eleanor, the prettiest name she knew. + +Aunt Abigail pushed a pitcher toward her. "There's the cat's saucer +under the sink. Don't you want to give it some milk?" + +Elizabeth Ann got down from her chair, poured some milk into the saucer, +and called: "Here, Eleanor! Here, Eleanor!" + +Aunt Abigail looked at her sharply out of the corner of her eye and her +lips twitched, but a moment later her face was immovably grave as she +carried the last plate of pancakes to the table. + +Elizabeth Ann sat on her heels for a long time, watching the kitten lap +the milk, and she was surprised, when she stood up, to see that Cousin +Ann and Uncle Henry had come in, very red-cheeked from the cold air. + +"Well, folks," said Aunt Abigail, "don't you think we've done some +lively stepping around, Betsy and I, to get supper all on the table for +you?" + +Elizabeth Ann stared. What did Aunt Abigail mean? She hadn't done a +thing about getting supper! But nobody made any comment, and they all +took their seats and began to eat. Elizabeth Ann was astonishingly +hungry, and she thought she could never get enough of the creamed +potatoes, cold ham, hot cocoa, and pancakes. She was very much relieved +that her refusal of beans caused no comment. Aunt Frances had always +tried very hard to make her eat beans because they have so much protein +in them, and growing children need protein. Elizabeth Ann had heard this +said so many times she could have repeated it backward, but it had never +made her hate beans any the less. However, nobody here seemed to know +this, and Elizabeth Ann kept her knowledge to herself. They had also +evidently never heard how delicate her digestion was, for she never saw +anything like the number of pancakes they let her eat. ALL SHE WANTED! +She had never heard of such a thing! + +They still did not ask her how she had "stood the trip." They did not +indeed ask her much of anything or pay very much attention to her beyond +filling her plate as fast as she emptied it. In the middle of the meal +Eleanor came, jumped into her lap, and curled down, purring. After this +Elizabeth Ann kept one hand on the little soft ball, handling her fork +with the other. + +After supper--well, Elizabeth Ann never knew what did happen after +supper until she felt somebody lifting her and carrying her upstairs. It +was Cousin Ann, who carried her as lightly as though she were a baby, +and who said, as she sat down on the floor in a slant-ceilinged bedroom, +"You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you're +pretty tired." + +Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four +posts, and a curtain around the top. She was partly undressed, and was +undoing her hair and brushing it out. It was very curly and all fluffed +out in a shining white fuzz around her fat, pink face, full of soft +wrinkles; but in a moment she was braiding it up again and putting on a +tight white nightcap, which she tied under her chin. + +"We got the word about your coming so late," said Cousin Ann, "that we +didn't have time to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you're +going to sleep in here for a while. The bed's big enough for two, I +guess, even if they are as big as you and Mother." + +Elizabeth Ann stared again. What queer things they said here. She wasn't +NEARLY as big as Aunt Abigail! + +"Mother, did you put Shep out?" asked Cousin Ann; and when Aunt Abigail +said, "No! There! I forgot to!" Cousin Ann went away; and that was the +last of HER. They certainly believed in being saving of their words at +Putney Farm. + +Elizabeth Ann began to undress. She was only half-awake; and that made +her feel only about half her age, which wasn't very great, the whole of +it, and she felt like just crooking her arm over her eyes and giving up! +She was too forlorn! She had never slept with anybody before, and she +had heard ever so many times how bad it was for children to sleep with +grown-ups. An icy wind rattled the windows and puffed in around the +loose old casings. On the window-sill lay a little wreath of snow. +Elizabeth Ann shivered and shook on her thin legs, undressed in a hurry, +and slipped into her night-dress. She felt just as cold inside as out, +and never was more utterly miserable than in that strange, ugly little +room, with that strange, queer, fat old woman. She was even too +miserable to cry, and that is saying a great deal for Elizabeth Ann! + +She got into bed first, because Aunt Abigail said she was going to keep +the candle lighted for a while and read. "And anyhow," she said, "I'd +better sleep on the outside to keep you from rolling out." + +Elizabeth Ann and Aunt Abigail lay very still for a long time, Aunt +Abigail reading out of a small, worn old book. Elizabeth Ann could see +its title, "Essays of Emerson." A book with, that name had always laid +on the center table in Aunt Harriet's house, but that copy was all new +and shiny, and Elizabeth Ann had never seen anybody look inside it. It +was a very dull-looking book, with no pictures and no conversation. The +little girl lay on her back, looking up at the cracks in the plaster +ceiling and watching the shadows sway and dance as the candle flickered +in the gusts of cold air. She herself began to feel a soft, pervasive +warmth. Aunt Abigail's great body was like a stove. + +It was very, very quiet, quieter than any place Elizabeth Ann had ever +known, except church, because a trolley-line ran past Aunt Harriet's +house and even at night there were always more or less hangings and +rattlings. Here there was not a single sound except the soft, whispery +noise when Aunt Abigail turned over a page as she read steadily and +silently forward in her book. Elizabeth Ann turned her head so that she +could see the round, rosy old face, full of soft wrinkles, and the calm, +steady old eyes which were fixed on the page. And as she lay there in +the warm bed, watching that quiet face, something very queer began to +happen to Elizabeth Ann. She felt as though a tight knot inside her were +slowly being untied. She felt--what was it she felt? There are no words +for it. From deep within her something rose up softly ... she drew one or +two long, half-sobbing breaths.... + +[Illustration: "Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think it's going to +be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."] + +Aunt Abigail laid down her book and looked over at the child. "Do you +know," she said, in a conversational tone, "do you know, I think it's +going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again." + +Oh, then the tight knot in the little unwanted girl's heart was loosened +indeed! It all gave way at once, and Elizabeth Ann burst suddenly into +hot tears--yes, I know I said I would not tell you any more about her +crying; but these tears were very different from any she had ever shed +before. And they were the last, too, for a long, long time. + +Aunt Abigail said, "Well, well!" and moving over in bed took the little +weeping girl into her arms. She did not say another word then, but she +put her soft, withered old cheek close against Elizabeth Ann's, till the +sobs began to grow less, and then she said: "I hear your kitty crying +outside the door. Shall I let her in? I expect she'd like to sleep with +you. I guess there's room for three of us." + +She got out of bed as she spoke and walked across the room to the door. +The floor shook under her great bulk, and the peak of her nightcap made +a long, grotesque shadow. But as she came back with the kitten in her +arms Elizabeth Ann saw nothing funny in her looks. She gave Eleanor to +the little girl and got into bed again. "There, now, I guess we're ready +for the night," she said. "You put the kitty on the other side of you so +she won't fall out of bed." + +She blew the light out and moved over a little closer to Elizabeth. Ann, +who immediately was enveloped in that delicious warmth. The kitten +curled up under the little girl's chin. Between her and the terrors of +the dark room loomed the rampart of Aunt Abigail's great body. + +Elizabeth Ann drew a long, long breath ... and when she opened her eyes +the sun was shining in at the window. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A SHORT MORNING + +Aunt Abigail was gone, Eleanor was gone. The room was quite empty except +for the bright sunshine pouring in through the small-paned windows. +Elizabeth Ann stretched and yawned and looked about her. What funny +wall-paper it was--so old-fashioned looking! The picture was of a blue +river and a brown mill, with green willow-trees over it, and a man with +sacks on his horse's back stood in front of the mill. This picture was +repeated a great many times, all over the paper; and in the corner, +where it hadn't come out even, they had had to cut it right down the +middle of the horse. It was very curious-looking. She stared at it a +long time, waiting for somebody to tell her when to get up. At home Aunt +Frances always told her, and helped her get dressed. But here nobody +came. She discovered that the heat came from a hole in the floor near +the bed, which opened down into the room below. From it came a warm +breath of baking bread and a muffled thump once in a while. + +The sun rose higher and higher, and Elizabeth Ann grew hungrier and +hungrier. Finally it occurred to her that it was not absolutely +necessary to have somebody tell her to get up. She reached for her +clothes and began to dress. When she had finished she went out into the +hall, and with a return of her aggrieved, abandoned feeling (you must +remember that her stomach was very empty) she began to try to find her +way downstairs. She soon found the steps, went down them one at a time, +and pushed open the door at the foot. Cousin Ann, the brown-haired one, +was ironing near the stove. She nodded and smiled as the child came into +the room, and said, "Well, you must feel rested!" + +"Oh, I haven't been asleep!" explained Elizabeth Ann. "I was waiting for +somebody to tell me to get up." + +"Oh," said Cousin Ann, opening her black eyes a little. "WERE you?" She +said no more than this, but Elizabeth Ann decided hastily that she would +not add, as she had been about to, that she was also waiting for +somebody to help her dress and do her hair. As a matter of fact, she had +greatly enjoyed doing her own hair--the first time she had ever tried +it. It had never occurred to Aunt Frances that her little baby-girl had +grown up enough to be her own hairdresser, nor had it occurred to +Elizabeth Ann that this might be possible. But as she struggled with the +snarls she had had a sudden wild idea of doing it a different way from +the pretty fashion Aunt Frances always followed. Elizabeth Ann had +always secretly envied a girl in her class whose hair was all tied back +from her face, with one big knot in her ribbon at the back of her neck. +It looked so grown-up. And this morning she had done hers that way, +turning her neck till it ached, so that she could see the coveted tight +effect at the back. And still--aren't little girls queer?--although she +had enjoyed doing her own hair, she was very much inclined to feel hurt +because Cousin Ann had not come to do it for her. + +[Illustration: She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.] + +Cousin Ann set her iron down with the soft thump which Elizabeth Ann had +heard upstairs. She began folding a napkin, and said: "Now reach +yourself a bowl off the shelf yonder. The oatmeal's in that kettle on +the stove and the milk is in the blue pitcher. If you want a piece of +bread and butter, here's a new loaf just out of the oven, and the +butter's in that brown crock." + +Elizabeth Ann followed these instructions and sat down before this +quickly assembled breakfast in a very much surprised silence. At home it +took the girl more than half an hour to get breakfast and set the table, +and then she had to wait on them besides. She began to pour the milk out +of the pitcher and stopped suddenly. "Oh, I'm afraid I've taken more +than my share!" she said apologetically. + +Cousin Ann looked up from her rapidly moving iron, and said, in an +astonished voice: "Your share? What do you mean?" + +"My share of the quart," explained Elizabeth Ann. At home they bought a +quart of milk and a cup of cream every day, and they were all very +conscientious about not taking more than their due share. + +"Good land, child, take all the MILK you want!" said Cousin Ann, as +though she found something shocking in what the little girl had just +said. Elizabeth Ann thought to herself that she spoke as though milk ran +out of a faucet, like water. + +She was very fond of milk, and she made a very good breakfast as she sat +looking about the low-ceilinged room. It was unlike any room she had +ever seen. + +It was, of course, the kitchen, and yet it didn't seem possible that the +same word could be applied to that room and the small, dark cubby-hole +which had been Grace's asthmatical kingdom. This room was very long and +narrow, and all along one side were windows with white, ruffled curtains +drawn back at the sides, and with small, shining panes of glass, through +which the sun poured a golden flood of light on a long shelf of potted +plants that took the place of a window-sill. The shelf was covered with +shining white oil-cloth, the pots were of clean reddish brown, the +sturdy, stocky plants of bright green with clear red-and-white flowers. +Elizabeth Ann's eyes wandered all over the kitchen from the low, white +ceiling to the clean, bare wooden floor, but they always came back to +those sunny windows. Once, back in the big brick school-building, as she +had sat drooping her thin shoulders over her desk, some sort of a +procession had gone by with a brass band playing a lively air. For some +queer reason, every time she now glanced at that sheet of sunlight and +the bright flowers she had a little of the same thrill which had +straightened her back and gone up and down her spine while the band was +playing. Possibly Aunt Frances was right, after all, and Elizabeth Ann +WAS a very impressionable child. I wonder, by the way, if anybody ever +saw a child who wasn't. + +At one end, the end where Cousin Ann was ironing, stood the kitchen +stove, gleaming black, with a tea-kettle humming away on it, a big +hot-water boiler near it, and a large kitchen cabinet with lots of +drawers and shelves and hooks and things. Beyond that, in the middle of +the room, was the table where they had had supper last night, and at +which the little girl now sat eating her very late breakfast; and beyond +that, at the other end of the room, was another table with an old +dark-red cashmere shawl on it for a cover. A large lamp stood in the +middle of this, a bookcase near it, two or three rocking-chairs around +it, and back of it, against the wall, was a wide sofa covered with +bright cretonne, with three bright pillows. Something big and black and +woolly was lying on this sofa, snoring loudly. As Cousin Ann saw the +little girl's fearful glance alight on this she explained: "That's Step, +our old dog. Doesn't he make an awful noise! Mother says, when she +happens to be alone here in the evening, it's real company to hear Shep +snore--as good as having a man in the house." + +Although this did not seem at all a sensible remark to Elizabeth Ann, +who thought soberly to herself that she didn't see why snoring made a +dog as good as a man, still she was acute enough (for she was really +quite an intelligent little girl) to feel that it belonged in the same +class of remarks as one or two others she had noted as "queer" in the +talk at Putney Farm last night. This variety of talk was entirely new to +her, nobody in Aunt Harriet's conscientious household ever making +anything but plain statements of fact. It was one of the "queer Putney +ways" which Aunt Harriet had forgotten to mention. It is possible that +Aunt Harriet had never noticed it. + +When Elizabeth Ann finished her breakfast, Cousin Ann made three +suggestions, using exactly the same accent for them all. She said: +"Wouldn't you better wash your dishes up now before they get sticky? And +don't you want one of those red apples from the dish on the side table? +And then maybe you'd like to look around the house so's to know where +you are." Elizabeth Ann had never washed a dish in all her life, and she +had always thought that nobody but poor, ignorant people, who couldn't +afford to hire girls, did such things. And yet (it was odd) she did not +feel like saying this to Cousin Ann, who stood there so straight in her +gingham dress and apron, with her clear, bright eyes and red cheeks. +Besides this feeling, Elizabeth Ann was overcome with embarrassment at +the idea of undertaking a new task in that casual way. How in the world +DID you wash dishes? She stood rooted to the spot, irresolute, horribly +shy, and looking, though she did not know it, very clouded and sullen. +Cousin Ann said briskly, holding an iron up to her cheek to see if it +was hot enough: "Just take them over to the sink there and hold them +under the hot-water faucet. They'll be clean in no time. The dish-towels +are those hanging on the rack over the stove." + +Elizabeth Ann moved promptly over to the sink, as though Cousin Ann's +words had shoved her there, and before she knew it, her saucer, cup, and +spoon were clean and she was wiping them on a dry checked towel. "The +spoon goes in the side-table drawer with the other silver, and the +saucer and cup in those shelves there behind the glass doors where the +china belongs," continued Cousin Ann, thumping hard with her iron on a +napkin and not looking up at all, "and don't forget your apple as you go +out. Those Northern Spies are just getting to be good about now. When +they first come off the tree in October you could shoot them through an +oak plank." + +Now Elizabeth Ann knew that this was a foolish thing to say, since of +course an apple never could go through a board; but something that had +always been sound asleep in her brain woke up a little, little bit and +opened one eye. For it occurred dimly to Elizabeth Ann that this was a +rather funny way of saying that Northern Spies were very hard when you +first pick them in the autumn. She had to figure it out for herself very +slowly, because it was a new idea to her, and she was half-way through +her tour of inspection of the house before there glimmered on her lips, +in a faint smile, the first recognition of humor in all her life. She +felt a momentary impulse to call down to Cousin Ann that she saw the +point, but before she had taken a single step toward the head of the +stairs she had decided not to do this. Cousin Ann, with her bright, dark +eyes, and her straight back, and her long arms, and her way of speaking +as though it never occurred to her that you wouldn't do just as she +said--Elizabeth Ann was not very sure that she liked Cousin Ann, and she +was very sure that she was afraid of her. + +So she went on, walking from one room to another, industriously eating +the red apple, the biggest she had ever seen. It was the best, too, with +its crisp, white flesh and the delicious, sour-sweet juice which made +Elizabeth Ann feel with each mouthful like hurrying to take another. She +did not think much more of the other rooms in the house than she had of +the kitchen. There were no draped "throws" over anything; there were no +lace curtains at the windows, just dotted Swiss like the kitchen; all +the ceilings were very low; the furniture was all of dark wood and very +old-looking; what few rugs there were were of bright-colored rags; the +mirrors were queer and old, with funny old pictures at the top; there +wasn't a brass bed in any of the bedrooms, just old wooden ones with +posts, and curtains round the tops; and there was not a single plush +portiere in the parlor, whereas at Aunt Harriet's there had been two +sets for that one room. + +She was relieved at the absence of a piano and secretly rejoiced that +she would not need to practice. In her heart she had not liked her music +lessons at all, but she had never dreamed of not accepting them from +Aunt Frances as she accepted everything else. Also she had liked to hear +Aunt Frances boast about how much better she could play than other +children of her age. + +She was downstairs by this time, and, opening a door out of the parlor, +found herself back in the kitchen, the long line of sunny windows and +the bright flowers giving her that quick little thrill again. Cousin Ann +looked up from her ironing, nodded, and said: "All through? You'd better +come in and get warmed up. Those rooms get awfully cold these January +days. Winters we mostly use this room so's to get the good of the +kitchen stove." She added after a moment, during which Elizabeth Ann +stood by the stove, warming her hands: "There's one place you haven't +seen yet--the milk-room. Mother's down there now, churning. That's the +door--the middle one." + +Elizabeth Ann had been wondering and wondering where in the world Aunt +Abigail was. So she stepped quickly to the door, and went dawn the cold +dark stairs she found there. At the bottom was a door, locked +apparently, for she could find no fastening. She heard steps inside, the +door was briskly cast open, and she almost fell into the arms of Aunt +Abigail, who caught her as she stumbled forward, saying: "Well, I've +been expectin' you down here for a long time. I never saw a little girl +yet who didn't like to watch butter-making. Don't you love to run the +butter-worker over it? I do, myself, for all I'm seventy-two!" + +"I don't know anything about it," said Elizabeth Ann. "I don't know what +you make butter out of. We always bought ours." + +"Well, FOR GOODNESS' SAKES!" said Aunt Abigail. She turned and called +across the room, "Henry, did you ever! Here's Betsy saying she don't +know what we make butter out of! She actually never saw anybody making +butter!" + +Uncle Henry was sitting down, near the window, turning the handle to a +small barrel swung between two uprights. He stopped for a moment and +considered Aunt Abigail's remark with the same serious attention he had +given to Elizabeth Ann's discovery about left and right. Then he began +to turn the churn over and over again and said, peaceably: "Well, +Mother, you never saw anybody laying asphalt pavement, I'll warrant you! +And I suppose Betsy knows all about that." + +Elizabeth Ann's spirits rose. She felt very superior indeed. "Oh, yes," +she assured them, "I know ALL about that! Didn't you ever see anybody +doing that? Why, I've seen them HUNDREDS of times! Every day as we went +to school they were doing over the whole pavement for blocks along +there." + +Aunt Abigail and Uncle Henry looked at her with interest, and Aunt +Abigail said: "Well, now, think of that! Tell us all about it!" + +"Why, there's a big black sort of wagon," began Elizabeth Ann, "and they +run it up and down and pour out the black stuff on the road. And that's +all there is to it." She stopped, rather abruptly, looking uneasy. Uncle +Henry inquired: "Now there's one thing I've always wanted to know. How +do they keep that stuff from hardening on them? How do they keep it +hot?" + +The little girl looked blank. "Why, a fire, I suppose," she faltered, +searching her memory desperately and finding there only a dim +recollection of a red glow somewhere connected with the familiar scene +at which she had so often looked with unseeing eyes. + +"Of course a fire," agreed Uncle Henry. "But what do they burn in it, +coke or coal or wood or charcoal? And how do they get any draft to keep +it going?" + +Elizabeth Ann shook her head. "I never noticed," she said. + +Aunt Abigail asked her now, "What do they do to the road before they +pour it on?" + +"Do?" said Elizabeth Ann. "I didn't know they did anything." + +"Well, they can't pour it right on a dirt road, can they?" asked Aunt +Abigail. "Don't they put down cracked stone or something?" + +Elizabeth Ann looked down at her toes. "I never noticed," she said. + +"I wonder how long it takes for it to harden?" said Uncle Henry. + +"I never noticed," said Elizabeth Ann, in a small voice. + +Uncle Henry said, "Oh!" and stopped asking questions. Aunt Abigail +turned away and put a stick of wood in the stove. Elizabeth Ann did not +feel very superior now, and when Aunt Abigail said, "Now the butter's +beginning to come. Don't you want to watch and see everything I do, so's +you can answer if anybody asks you how butter is made?" Elizabeth Ann +understood perfectly what was in Aunt's Abigail's mind, and gave to the +process of butter-making a more alert and aroused attention than she had +ever before given to anything. It was so interesting, too, that in no +time she forgot why she was watching, and was absorbed in the +fascinations of the dairy for their own sake. + +She looked in the churn as Aunt Abigail unscrewed the top, and saw the +thick, sour cream separating into buttermilk and tiny golden particles. +"It's gathering," said Aunt Abigail, screwing the lid back on. +"Father'll churn it a little more till it really comes. And you and I +will scald the wooden butter things and get everything ready. You'd +better take that apron there to keep your dress clean." + +Wouldn't Aunt Frances have been astonished if she could have looked in +on Elizabeth Ann that very first morning of her stay at the hateful +Putney Farm and have seen her wrapped in a gingham apron, her face +bright with interest, trotting here and there in the stone-floored +milk-room! She was allowed the excitement of pulling out the plug from +the bottom of the churn, and dodged back hastily to escape the gush of +buttermilk spouting into the pail held by Aunt Abigail. And she poured +the water in to wash the butter, and screwed on the top herself, and, +again all herself (for Uncle Henry had gone off as soon as the butter +had "come"), swung the barrel back and forth six or seven times to swish +the water all through the particles of butter. She even helped Aunt +Abigail scoop out the great yellow lumps--her imagination had never +conceived of so much butter in all the world! Then Aunt Abigail let her +run the curiously shaped wooden butter-worker back and forth over the +butter, squeezing out the water, and then pile it up again with her +wooden paddle into a mound of gold. She weighed out the salt needed on +the scales, and was very much surprised to find that there really is +such a thing as an ounce. She had never met it before outside the pages +of her arithmetic book and she didn't know it lived anywhere else. + +After the salt was worked in she watched Aunt Abigail's deft, wrinkled +old hands make pats and rolls. It looked like the greatest fun, and too +easy for anything; and when Aunt Abigail asked her if she wouldn't like +to make up the last half-pound into a pat for dinner, she took up the +wooden paddle confidently. And then she got one of the surprises that +Putney Farm seemed to have for her. She discovered that her hands didn't +seem to belong to her at all, that her fingers were all thumbs, that she +didn't seem to know in the least beforehand how hard a stroke she was +going to give nor which way her fingers were going to go. It was, as a +matter of fact, the first time Elizabeth Ann had tried to do anything +with her hands except to write and figure and play on the piano, and +naturally she wasn't very well acquainted with them. She stopped in +dismay, looking at the shapeless, battered heap of butter before her and +holding out her hands as though they were not part of her. + +Aunt Abigail laughed, took up the paddle, and after three or four passes +the butter was a smooth, yellow ball. "Well, that brings it all back to +me!" she said? "when _I_ was a little girl, when my grandmother first +let me try to make a pat. I was about five years old--my! what a mess I +made of it! And I remember? doesn't it seem funny--that SHE laughed and +said her Great-aunt Elmira had taught her how to handle butter right +here in this very milk-room. Let's see, Grandmother was born the year +the Declaration of Independence was signed. That's quite a while ago, +isn't it? But butter hasn't changed much, I guess, nor little girls +either." + +Elizabeth Ann listened to this statement with a very queer, startled +expression on her face, as though she hadn't understood the words. Now +for a moment she stood staring up in Aunt Abigail's face, and yet not +seeing her at all, because she was thinking so hard. She was thinking! +"Why! There were real people living when the Declaration of Independence +was signed--real people, not just history people--old women teaching +little girls how to do things--right in this very room, on this very +floor--and the Declaration of Independence just signed!" + +To tell the honest truth, although she had passed a very good +examination in the little book on American history they had studied in +school, Elizabeth Ann had never to that moment had any notion that there +ever had been really and truly any Declaration of Independence at all. +It had been like the ounce, living exclusively inside her schoolbooks +for little girls to be examined about. And now here Aunt Abigail, +talking about a butter-pat, had brought it to life! + +Of course all this only lasted a moment, because it was such a new idea! +She soon lost track of what she was thinking of; she rubbed her eyes as +though she were coming out of a dream, she thought, confusedly: "What +did butter have to do with the Declaration of Independence? Nothing, of +course! It couldn't!" and the whole impression seemed to pass out of her +mind. But it was an impression which was to come again and again during +the next few months. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BETSY GOES TO SCHOOL + +Elizabeth Ann was very much surprised to hear Cousin Ann's voice +calling, "Dinner!" down the stairs. It did not seem possible that the +whole morning had gone by. "Here," said Aunt Abigail, "just put that pat +on a plate, will you, and take it upstairs as you go. I've got all I can +do to haul my own two hundred pounds up, without any half-pound of +butter into the bargain." The little girl smiled at this, though she did +not exactly know why, and skipped up the stairs proudly with her butter. + +Dinner was smoking on the table, which was set in the midst of the great +pool of sunlight. A very large black-and-white dog, with a great bushy +tail, was walking around and around the table, sniffing the air. He +looked as big as a bear to Elizabeth Ann; and as he walked his great red +tongue hung out of his mouth and his white teeth gleamed horribly. +Elizabeth Ann shrank back in terror, clutching her plate of butter to +her breast with tense fingers. Cousin. Ann said, over her shoulder: "Oh, +bother! There's old Shep, got up to pester us begging for scraps! Shep! +You go and lie down this minute!" To Elizabeth Ann's astonishment and +immense relief, the great animal turned, drooping his head sadly, walked +back across the floor, got upon the couch again, and laid his head down +on one paw very forlornly, turning up the whites of his eyes meekly at +Cousin Ann. + +Aunt Abigail, who had just pulled herself up the stairs, panting, said, +between laughing and puffing: "I'm glad I'm not an animal on this farm. +Ann does boss them around so." "Well, SOMEbody has to!" said Cousin Ann, +advancing on the table with a platter. This proved to have chicken +fricassee on it, and Elizabeth Ann's heart melted in her at the smell. +She loved chicken gravy on hot biscuits beyond anything in the world, +but chickens are so expensive when you buy them in the market that Aunt +Harriet hadn't had them very often for dinner. And there was a plate of +biscuits, golden brown, just coming out of the oven! She sat down very +quickly, her mouth watering, and attacked with extreme haste the big +plateful of food which Cousin Ann passed her. + +At Aunt Harriet's she had always been aware that everybody watched her +anxiously as she ate, and she had heard so much about her light appetite +that she felt she must live up to her reputation, and had a very natural +and human hesitation about eating all she wanted when there happened to +be something she liked very much. But nobody here knew that she "only +ate enough to keep a bird alive," and that her "appetite was SO +capricious!" Nor did anybody notice her while she stowed away the +chicken and gravy and hot biscuits and currant jelly and baked potatoes +and apple pie--when did Elizabeth Ann ever eat such a meal before! She +actually felt her belt grow tight. + +In the middle of the meal Cousin Ann got up to answer the telephone, +which was in the next room. The instant the door had closed behind her +Uncle Henry leaned forward, tapped Elizabeth Ann on the shoulder, and +nodded toward the sofa. His eyes were twinkling, and as for Aunt Abigail +she began to laugh silently, shaking all over, her napkin at her mouth +to stifle the sound. Elizabeth Ann turned wonderingly and saw the old +dog cautiously and noiselessly letting himself down from the sofa, one +ear cocked rigidly in the direction of Cousin Ann's voice in the next +room. "The old tyke!" said Uncle Henry. "He always sneaks up to the +table to be fed if Ann goes out for a minute. Here, Betsy, you're +nearest, give him this piece of skin from the chicken neck." The big dog +padded forward across the room, evidently in such a state of terror +about Cousin Ann that Elizabeth Ann felt for him. She had a +fellow-feeling about that relative of hers. Also it was impossible to be +afraid of so abjectly meek and guilty an animal. As old Shep came up to +her, poking his nose inquiringly on her lap, she shrinkingly held out +the big piece of skin, and though she jumped back at the sudden snap and +gobbling gulp with which the old dog greeted the tidbit, she could not +but sympathize with his evident enjoyment of it. He waved his bushy tail +gratefully, cocked his head on one side, and, his ears standing up at +attention, his eyes glistening greedily, he gave a little, begging +whine. "Oh, he's asking for more!" cried Elizabeth Ann, surprised to see +how plainly she could understand dog-talk. "Quick, Uncle Henry, give me +another piece!" + +Uncle Henry rapidly transferred to her plate a wing-bone from his own, +and Aunt Abigail, with one deft swoop, contributed the neck from the +platter. As fast as she could, Elizabeth Ann fed these to Shep, who +woofed them down at top speed, the bones crunching loudly under his +strong, white teeth. How he did enjoy it! It did your heart good to see +his gusto! + +[Illustration: "Oh, he's asking for more'" cried Elizabeth Ann] + +There was the sound of the telephone receiver being hung up in the next +room--and everybody acted at once. Aunt Abigail began drinking +innocently out of her coffee-cup, only her laughing old eyes showing +over the rim; Uncle Henry buttered a slice of bread with a grave face, +as though he were deep in conjectures about who would be the next +President; and as for old Shep, he made one plunge across the room, his +toe-nails clicking rapidly on the bare floor, sprang up on the couch, +and when Cousin Ann opened the door and came in he was lying in exactly +the position in which she had left him, his paw stretched out, his head +laid on it, his brown eyes turned up meekly so that the whites showed. + +I've told you what these three did, but I haven't told you yet what +Elizabeth Ann did. And it is worth telling. As Cousin Ann stepped in, +glancing suspiciously from her sober-faced and abstracted parents to the +lamb-like innocence of old Shep, little Elizabeth Ann burst into a shout +of laughter. It's worth telling about, because, so far as I know, that +was the first time she had ever laughed out heartily in all her life. +For my part, I'm half surprised to know that she knew how. + +Of course, when she laughed, Aunt Abigail had to laugh too, setting down +her coffee-cup and showing all the funny wrinkles in her face screwed up +hard with fun; and that made Uncle Henry laugh, and then Cousin Ann +laughed and said, as she sat down, "You are bad children, the whole four +of you!" And old Shep, seeing the state of things, stopped pretending to +be meek, jumped down, and came lumbering over to the table, wagging his +tail and laughing too; you know that good, wide dog-smile! He put his +head on Elizabeth Ann's lap again and she patted it and lifted up one of +his big black ears. She had quite forgotten that she was terribly afraid +of big dogs. + +After dinner Cousin Ann looked up at the clock and said: "My goodness! +Betsy'll be late for school if she doesn't start right off." She +explained to the child, aghast at this sudden thunderclap, "I let you +sleep this morning as long as you wanted to, because you were so tired +from your journey. But of course there's no reason for missing the +afternoon session." + +As Elizabeth Ann continued sitting perfectly still, frozen with alarm, +Cousin Ann jumped up briskly, got the little coat and cap, helped her +up, and began inserting the child's arms into the sleeves. She pulled +the cap well down over Elizabeth Ann's ears, felt in the pocket and +pulled out the mittens. "There," she said, holding them out, "you'd +better put them on before you go out, for it's a real cold day." As she +led the stupefied little girl along toward the door Aunt Abigail came +after them and put a big sugar-cookie into the child's hand. "Maybe +you'll like to eat that for your recess time," she said. "I always did +when I went to school." + +Elizabeth Ann's hand closed automatically about the cookie, but she +scarcely heard what was said. She felt herself to be in a bad dream. +Aunt Frances had never, no NEVER, let her go to school alone, and on the +first day of the year always took her to the new teacher and introduced +her and told the teacher how sensitive she was and how hard to +understand; and then she stayed there for an hour or two till Elizabeth +Ann got used to things! She could not face a whole new school all +alone--oh, she couldn't, she wouldn't! She couldn't! Horrors! Here she +was in the front hall--she was on the porch! Cousin Ann was saying: "Now +run along, child. Straight down the road till the first turn to the +left, and there in the cross-roads, there you are." And now the front +door closed behind her, the path stretched before her to the road, and +the road led down the hill the way Cousin Ann had pointed. Elizabeth +Ann's feet began to move forward and carried her down the path, although +she was still crying out to herself, "I can't! I won't! I can't!" + +Are you wondering why Elizabeth Ann didn't turn right around, open the +front door, walk in, and say, "I can't! I won't! I can't!" to Cousin +Ann? + +The answer to that question is that she didn't do it because Cousin Ann +was Cousin Ann. And there's more in that than you think! In fact, there +is a mystery in it that nobody has ever solved, not even the greatest +scientists and philosophers, although, like all scientists and +philosophers, they think they have gone a long way toward explaining +something they don't understand by calling it a long name. The long name +is "personality," and what it means nobody knows, but it is perhaps the +very most important thing in the world for all that. And yet we know +only one or two things about it. We know that anybody's personality is +made up of the sum total of all the actions and thoughts and desires of +his life. And we know that though there aren't any words or any figures +in any language to set down that sum total accurately, still it is one +of the first things that everybody knows about anybody else. And that is +really all we know! + +So I can't tell you why Elizabeth Ann did not go back and cry and sob +and say she couldn't and she wouldn't and she couldn't, as she would +certainly have done at Aunt Harriet's. You remember that I could not +even tell you why it was that, as the little fatherless and motherless +girl lay in bed looking at Aunt Abigail's old face, she should feel so +comforted and protected that she must needs break out crying. No, all I +can say is that it was because Aunt Abigail was Aunt Abigail. But +perhaps it may occur to you that it's rather a good idea to keep a sharp +eye on your "personality," whatever that is! It might be very handy, you +know, to have a personality like Cousin Ann's which sent Elizabeth Ann's +feet down the path; or perhaps you would prefer one like Aunt Abigail's. +Well, take your choice. + +You must not, of course, think for a moment that Elizabeth Ann had the +slightest INTENTION of obeying Cousin Ann. No indeed! Nothing was +farther from her mind as her feet carried her along the path and into +the road. In her mind was nothing but rebellion and fear and anger and +oh, such hurt feelings! She turned sick at the very thought of facing +all the staring, curious faces in the playground turned on the new +scholar as she had seen them at home! She would never, never do it! She +would walk around all the afternoon, and then go back and tell Cousin +Ann that she couldn't! She would EXPLAIN to her how Aunt Frances never +let her go out of doors without a loving hand to cling to. She would +EXPLAIN to her how Aunt Frances always took care of her! ... it was easier +to think about what she would say and do and explain, away from Cousin +Ann, than it was to say and do it before those black eyes. Aunt +Frances's eyes were soft, light blue. + +Oh, how she wanted Aunt Frances to take care of her! Nobody cared a +thing about her! Nobody UNDERSTOOD her but Aunt Frances! She wouldn't go +back at all to Putney Farm. She would just walk on and on till she was +lost, and the night would come and she would lie down and freeze to +death, and then wouldn't Cousin Ann feel ... Someone called to her, +"Isn't this Betsy?" + +She looked up astonished. A young girl in a gingham dress and a white +apron like those at Putney Farm stood in front of a tiny, square +building, like a toy house. "Isn't this Betsy?" asked the young girl +again. "Your Cousin Ann said you were coming to school today and I've +been looking out for you. But I saw you going right by, and I ran out to +stop you." + +"Why, where IS the school?" asked Betsy, staring around for a big brick, +four-story building. + +The young girl laughed and held out her hand. "This is the school," she +said, "and I am the teacher, and you'd better come right in, for it's +time to begin." + +She led Betsy into a low-ceilinged room with geraniums at the windows, +where about a dozen children of different ages sat behind their desks. +At the first sight of them Betsy blushed crimson with fright and +shyness, and hung down her head; but, looking out the corners of her +eyes, she saw that they, too, were all very red-faced and scared-looking +and hung down their heads, looking at her shyly out of the corners of +their eyes. She was so surprised by this that she forgot all about +herself and looked inquiringly at the teacher. + +"They don't see many strangers," the teacher explained, "and they feel +very shy and scared when a new scholar comes, especially one from the +city." + +"Is this my grade?" asked Elizabeth, thinking it the very smallest grade +she had ever seen. + +"This is the whole school," said the teacher. "There are only two or +three in each class. You'll probably have three in yours. Miss Ann said +you were in the third grade. There, that's your seat." + +Elizabeth sat down before a very old desk, much battered and hacked up +with knife marks. There was a big H. P. carved just over the inkwell, +and many other initials scattered all over the top. + +The teacher stepped back to her desk and took up a violin that lay +there. "Now, children, we'll begin the afternoon session by singing +'America,'" she said. She played the air over a little very sweetly and +stirringly, and then as the children stood up she came down close to +them, standing just in front of Betsy. She drew the bow across the +strings in a big chord, and said, "NOW," and Betsy burst into song with +the others. The sun came in the windows brightly, the teacher, too, sang +as she played, and all the children, even the littlest ones, opened +their mouths wide and sang lustily. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WHAT GRADE IS BETSY? + +After the singing the teacher gave Elizabeth Ann a pile of schoolbooks, +some paper, some pencils, and a pen, and told her to set her desk in +order. There were more initials carved inside, another big H. P. with a +little A. P. under it. What a lot of children must have sat there, +thought the little girl as she arranged her books and papers. As she +shut down the lid the teacher finished giving some instructions to three +or four little ones and said, "Betsy and Ralph and Ellen, bring your +reading books up here." + +Betsy sighed, took out her third-grade reader, and went with the other +two up to the battered old bench near the teacher's desk. She knew all +about reading lessons and she hated them, although she loved to read. +But reading lessons...! You sat with your book open at some reading that +you could do with your eyes shut, it was so easy, and you waited and +waited and waited while your classmates slowly stumbled along, reading +aloud a sentence or two apiece, until your turn came to stand up and +read your sentence or two, which by that time sounded just like nonsense +because you'd read it over and over so many times to yourself before +your chance came. And often you didn't even have a chance to do that, +because the teacher didn't have time to get around to you at all, and +you closed your book and put it back in your desk without having opened +your mouth. Reading was one thing Elizabeth Ann had learned to do very +well indeed, but she had learned it all by herself at home from much +reading to herself. Aunt Frances had kept her well supplied with +children's books from the nearest public library. She often read three a +week--very different, that, from a sentence or two once or twice a week. + +When she sat down on the battered old bench she almost laughed aloud, it +seemed so funny to be in a class of only three. There had been forty in +her grade in the big brick building. She sat in the middle, the little +girl whom the teacher had called Ellen on one side, and Ralph on the +other. Ellen was very pretty, with fair hair smoothly braided in two +little pig-tails, sweet, blue eyes, and a clean blue-and-white gingham +dress. Ralph had very black eyes, dark hair, a big bruise on his +forehead, a cut on his chin, and a tear in the knee of his short +trousers. He was much bigger than Ellen, and Elizabeth Ann thought he +looked rather fierce. She decided that she would be afraid of him, and +would not like him at all. + +"Page thirty-two," said the teacher. "Ralph first." + +Ralph stood up and began to read. It sounded very familiar to Elizabeth +Ann, for he did not read at all well. What was not familiar was that the +teacher did not stop him after the first sentence. He read on and on +till he had read a page, the teacher only helping him with the hardest +words. + +"Now Betsy," said the teacher. + +Elizabeth Ann stood up, read the first sentence, and paused, like a +caged lion pausing when he comes to the end of his cage. + +"Go on," said the teacher. + +Elizabeth Ann read the next sentence and stopped again, automatically. + +"Go ON," said the teacher, looking at her sharply. + +The next time the little girl paused the teacher laughed out +good-naturedly. "What is the matter with you, Betsy?" she said. "Go on +till I tell you to stop." + +So Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised but very much interested, read on, +sentence after sentence, till she forgot they were sentences and just +thought of what they meant. She read a whole page and then another page, +and that was the end of the selection. She had never read aloud so much +in her life. She was aware that everybody in the room had stopped +working to listen to her. She felt very proud and less afraid than she +had ever thought she could be in a schoolroom. When she finished, +"You read very well!" said the teacher. "Is this very easy for you?" + +"Oh, YES!" said Elizabeth Ann. + +"I guess, then, that you'd better not stay in this class," said the +teacher. She took a book out of her desk. "See if you can read that." + +Elizabeth Ann began in her usual school-reading style, very slow and +monotonous, but this didn't seem like a "reader" at all. It was poetry, +full of hard words that were fun to try to pronounce, and it was all +about an old woman who would hang out an American flag, even though the +town was full of rebel soldiers. She read faster and faster, getting +more and more excited, till she broke out with "Halt!" in such a loud, +spirited voice that the sound of it startled her and made her stop, +fearing that she would be laughed at. But nobody laughed. They were all +listening, very eagerly, even the little ones, with their eyes turned +toward her. + +"You might as well go on and let us see how it came out," said the +teacher, and Betsy finished triumphantly. + +"WELL," said the teacher, "there's no sense in your reading along in the +third reader. After this you'll recite out of the seventh reader with +Frank and Harry and Stashie." + +Elizabeth Ann could not believe her ears. To be "jumped" four grades in +that casual way! It wasn't possible! She at once thought, however, of +something that would prevent it entirely, and while Ellen was reading +her page in a slow, careful little voice, Elizabeth Ann was feeling +miserably that she must explain to the teacher why she couldn't read +with the seventh-grade children. Oh, how she wished she could! When they +stood up to go back to their seats she hesitated, hung her head, and +looked very unhappy. "Did you want to say something to me?" asked the +teacher, pausing with a bit of chalk in her hand. + +The little girl went up to her desk and said, what she knew it was her +duty to confess: "I can't be allowed to read in the seventh reader. I +don't write a bit well, and I never get the mental number-work right. I +couldn't do ANYthing with seventh-grade arithmetic!" + +The teacher looked a little blank and said: "_I_ didn't say anything +about your number-work! I don't KNOW anything about it! You haven't +recited yet." She turned away and began to write a list of words on the +board. "Betsy, Ralph, and Ellen study their spelling," she said. "You +little ones come up for your reading." + +Two little boys and two little girls came forward as Elizabeth Ann began +to con over the words on the board. At first she found she was listening +to the little, chirping voices, as the children straggled with their +reading, instead of studying "doubt, travel, cheese," and the other +words in her lesson. But she put her hands over her ears, and her mind +on her spelling. She wanted to make a good impression with that lesson. +After a while, when she was sure she could spell them all correctly, she +began to listen and look around her. She always "got" her spelling in +less time than was allowed the class, and usually sat idle, looking out +of the window until that study period was over. But now the moment she +stopped staring at the board and moving her lips as she spelled to +herself the teacher said, just as though she had been watching her every +minute instead of conducting a class, "Betsy, have you learned your +spelling?" + +"Yes, ma'am, I think so," said Elizabeth Ann, wondering very much why +she was asked. + +"That's fine," said the teacher. "I wish you'd take little Molly over in +that corner and help her with her reading. She's getting on so much +better than the rest of the class that I hate to have her lose her time. +Just hear her read the rest of her little story, will you, and don't +help her unless she's really stuck." + +Elizabeth Ann was startled by this request, which was unheard of in her +experience. She was very uncertain of herself as she sat down on a low +chair in the corner of the schoolroom away from the desks, with the +little child leaning on her knee. And yet she was not exactly afraid, +either, because Molly was such a shy little roly-poly thing, with her +crop of yellow curls, and her bright blue eyes very serious as she +looked hard at the book and began: "Once there was a rat. It was a fat +rat." No, it was impossible to be frightened of such a funny little +girl, who peered so earnestly into the older child's face to make sure +she was doing her lesson right. + +Elizabeth Ann had never had anything to do with children younger than +herself, and she felt very pleased and important to have anybody look up +to HER! She put her arm around Molly's square, warm, fat little body and +gave her a squeeze. Molly snuggled up closer; and the two children put +their heads together over the printed page, Elizabeth Ann correcting +Molly very gently indeed when she made a mistake, and waiting patiently +when she hesitated. She had so fresh in her mind her own suffering from +quick, nervous corrections that she took the greatest pleasure in +speaking quietly and not interrupting the little girl more than was +necessary. It was fun to teach, LOTS of fun! She was surprised when the +teacher said, "Well, Betsy, how did Molly do?" + +"Oh, is the time up?" said Elizabeth Ann. "Why, she does beautifully, I +think, for such a little thing." + +"Do you suppose," said the teacher thoughtfully, just as though Betsy +were a grown-up person, "do you suppose she could go into the second +reader, with Eliza? There's no use keeping her in the first if she's +ready to go on." + +Elizabeth Ann's head whirled with this second light-handed juggling with +the sacred distinction between the grades. In the big brick schoolhouse +nobody EVER went into another grade except at the beginning of a new +year, after you'd passed a lot of examinations. She had not known that +anybody could do anything else. The idea that everybody took a year to a +grade, no MATTER what! was so fixed in her mind that she felt as though +the teacher had said: "How would you like to stop being nine years old +and be twelve instead! And don't you think Molly would better be eight +instead of six?" + +However, just then her class in arithmetic was called, so that she had +no more time to be puzzled. She came forward with Ralph and Ellen again, +very low in her mind. She hated arithmetic with all her might, and she +really didn't understand a thing about it! By long experience she had +learned to read her teachers' faces very accurately, and she guessed by +their expression whether the answer she gave was the right one. And that +was the only way she could tell. You never heard of any other child who +did that, did you? + +They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just her +luck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and of +course right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8. She never +knew that one! She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguely +that it was somewhere in the fifties. Ralph burst out scornfully, "56!" +and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off, +pounced on him with 9 x 8. He answered, without drawing breath, 72. +Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy. Ellen, too, rose to the +occasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimes +remember and sometimes not. And then, oh horrors! It was her turn again! +Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mental +arithmetic lesson. She was so startled by the swiftness with which the +question went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly. +And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a +108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x +12. Good gracious! Who could have guessed, from the way they read, they +could do their tables like this! She herself missed on 7 x 7 and was +ready to cry. After this the teacher didn't call on her at all, but +showered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back with +sickening speed. + +After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, "Well, Betsy, you were right +about your arithmetic. I guess you'd better recite with Eliza for a +while. She's doing second-grade work. I shouldn't be surprised if, after +a good review with her, you'd be able to go on with the third-grade +work." + +Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open. She felt +really dizzy. What crazy things the teacher said! She felt as though she +was being pulled limb from limb. + +"What's the matter?" asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered fact. + +"Why--why," said Elizabeth Ann, "I don't know what I am at all. If I'm +second-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-grade +spelling, what grade AM I?" + +The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase. "YOU aren't any grade at +all, no matter where you are in school. You're just yourself, aren't +you? What difference does it make what grade you're in! And what's the +use of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because you +don't know your multiplication table?" + +"Well, for goodness' SAKES!" ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very much +as though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head. + +"Why, what's the matter?" asked the teacher again. + +This time Elizabeth Ann didn't answer, because she herself didn't know +what the matter was. But I do, and I'll tell you. The matter was that +never before had she known what she was doing in school. She had always +thought she was there to pass from one grade to another, and she was +ever so startled to get a little glimpse of the fact that she was there +to learn how to read and write and cipher and generally use her mind, so +she could take care of herself when she came to be grown up. Of course, +she didn't really know that till she did come to be grown up, but she +had her first dim notion of it in that moment, and it made her feel the +way you do when you're learning to skate and somebody pulls away the +chair you've been leaning on and says, "Now, go it alone!" + +The teacher waited a minute, and then, when Elizabeth Ann didn't say +anything more, she rang a little bell. "Recess time," she said, and as +the children marched out and began putting on their wraps she followed +them into the cloak-room, pulled on a warm, red cap and a red sweater, +and ran outdoors herself. "Who's on my side!" she called, and the +children came darting out after her. Elizabeth Ann had dreaded the first +recess time with the strange children, but she had no time to feel shy, +for in a twinkling she was on one end of a long rope with a lot of her +schoolmates, pulling with all her might against the teacher and two of +the big boys. Nobody had looked at her curiously, nobody had said +anything to her beyond a loud, "Come on, Betsy!" from Ralph, who was at +the head on their side. + +They pulled and they pulled, digging their feet into the ground and +bracing themselves against the rocks which stuck up out of the +playground. Sometimes the teacher's side yanked them along by quick +jerks, and then they'd all set their feet hard when Ralph shouted out, +"Now, ALL TOGETHER!" and they'd slowly drag the other side back. And all +the time everybody was shouting and yelling together with the +excitement. Betsy was screaming too, and when a wagon passing by stopped +and a big, broad-shouldered farmer jumped down laughing, put the end of +the rope over his shoulder, and just walked off with the whole lot of +them till he had pulled them clear off their feet, Elizabeth Ann found +herself rolling over and over with a breathless, squirming mass of +children, her shrill laughter rising even above the shouts of merriment +of the others. She laughed so she could hardly get up on her feet again, +it was such an unexpected ending to the contest. + +The big farmer was laughing too. "You ain't so smart as you THINK you +are, are you!" he jeered at them good-naturedly. Then he started, +yelling "WHOA there!" to his horses, which had begun to walk on. He had +to run after them with all his might, and just climbed into the back of +the wagon and grabbed the reins the very moment they broke into a trot. +The children laughed, and Ralph shouted after him, "Hi, there, Uncle +Nate! Who's not so smart as he thinks he is, NOW!" He turned to the +little girls near him. "They 'most got away from him THAT time!" he +said. "He's awful foolish about leaving them standing while he's funning +or something. He thinks he's awful funny, anyhow. Some day they'll run +away on him and THEN where'll he be?" + +Elizabeth Ann was thinking to herself that this was one of the queerest +things that had happened to her even in this queer place. Never, why +never once, had any grown-up, passing the playground of the big brick +building, DREAMED of such a thing as stopping for a minute to play. They +never even looked at the children, any more than if they were in another +world. In fact she had felt the school was in another world. + +"Ralph, it's your turn to get the water," said the teacher, handing him +a pail. "Want to go along?" said Ralph gruffly to Ellen and Betsy. He +led the way and the little girls walked after him. Now that she was out +of a crowd Elizabeth Ann felt all her shyness come down on her like a +black cloud, drying up her mouth and turning her hands and feet cold as +ice. Into one of these cold hands she felt small, warm fingers slide. +She looked down and there was little Molly trotting by her side, turning +her blue eyes up trustfully. "Teacher says I can go with you if you'll +take care of me," she said. "She never lets us first-graders go without +somebody bigger to help us over the log." + +As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a big +white-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set foot on it, +but with little Molly's hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed to +say she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show how +easy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and then--oh, don't you +wish Aunt Frances could have been there!--Betsy shut her teeth together +hard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As a +matter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, having +done it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. But +nobody knew this, Molly least of all. + +Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dipped +the pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellen +took a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without looking +up. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment, +much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, "Do you like +dolls with yellow hair the best?" + +Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on this +point which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didn't REALLY +care about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her little +niece. + +"No, I DON'T!" answered the little girl emphatically. "I get just sick +and tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! I +like them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!" + +Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. "Oh, so do I!" she said. +"And that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will you +let me play with her some time?" + +"My folks?" said Elizabeth Ann blankly. + +"Why yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry." + +"Have they got a DOLL?" said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax of +Putney queerness. + +"Oh my, yes!" said Molly, eagerly. "She's the one Mrs. Putney had when +she was a little girl. And she's got the loveliest clothes! She's in the +hair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down once +when I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a little +girl had come there to live, they'd let her have her down all the time. +I'll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mine's got yellow +hair, but she's real pretty anyhow. If Father's going to mill that day, +he can leave me there for the morning." + +[Illustration with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and +started across.] + +Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, but +just then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helping +Elizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before. + +They ran along to the little building, and there I'm going to leave +them, because I think I've told enough about their school for ONE while. +It was only a poor, rough, little district school anyway, that no +Superintendent of Schools would have looked at for a minute, except to +sniff. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IF YOU DON'T LIKE CONVERSATION IN A BOOK SKIP THIS CHAPTER! + +Betsy opened the door and was greeted by her kitten, who ran to her, +purring and arching her back to be stroked. + +"Well," said Aunt Abigail, looking up from the pan of apples in her lap, +"I suppose you're starved, aren't you? Get yourself a piece of bread and +butter, why don't you? and have one of these apples." + +As the little girl sat down by her, munching fast on this provender, she +asked: "What desk did you get?" + +Elizabeth Ann thought for a moment, cuddling Eleanor up to her face. "I +think it is the third from the front in the second row." She wondered +why Aunt Abigail cared. "Oh, I guess that's your Uncle Henry's desk. +It's the one his father had, too. Are there a couple of H. P.'s carved +on it?" + +Betsy nodded. + +"His father carved the H. P. on the lid, so Henry had to put his inside. +I remember the winter he put it there. It was the first season Mother +let me wear real hoop skirts. I sat in the first seat on the third row." + +Betsy ate her apple more and more slowly, trying to take in what Aunt +Abigail had said. Uncle Henry and HIS FATHER--why Moses or Alexander the +Great didn't seem any further back in the mists of time to Elizabeth Ann +than did Uncle Henry's FATHER! And to think he had been a little boy, +right there at that desk! She stopped chewing altogether for a moment +and stared into space. Although she was only nine years old, she was +feeling a little of the same rapt wonder, the same astonished sense of +the reality of the people who have gone before, which make a first visit +to the Roman Forum such a thrilling event for grown-ups. That very desk! + +After a moment she came to herself, and finding some apple still in her +mouth, went on chewing meditatively. "Aunt Abigail," she said, "how long +ago was that?" + +"Let's see," said the old woman, peeling apples with wonderful rapidity. +"I was born in 1844. And I was six when I first went to school. That's +sixty-six years ago." + +Elizabeth Ann, like all little girls of nine, had very little notion how +long sixty-six years might be. "Was George Washington alive then?" she +asked. + +The wrinkles around Aunt Abigail's eyes deepened mirthfully, but she did +not laugh as she answered, "No, that was long after he died, but the +schoolhouse was there when he was alive." + +"It WAS!" said Betsy, staring, with her teeth set deep in an apple. + +"Yes, indeed. It was the first house in the valley built of sawed +lumber. You know, when our folks came up here, they had to build all +their houses of logs to begin with." + +"They DID!" cried Betsy, with her mouth full of apple. + +"Why yes, child, what else did you suppose they had to make houses out +of? They had to have something to live in, right off. The sawmills came +later." + +"I didn't know anything about it," said Betsy. "Tell me about it." + +"Why you knew, didn't you--your Aunt Harriet must have told you--about +how our folks came up here from Connecticut in 1763, on horseback! +Connecticut was an old settled place then, compared to Vermont. There +wasn't anything here but trees and bears and wood-pigeons. I've heard +'em say that the wood-pigeons were so thick you could go out after dark +and club 'em out of the trees, just like hens roosting in a hen-house. +There always was cold pigeon-pie in the pantry, just the way we have +doughnuts. And they used bear-grease to grease their boots and their +hair, bears were so plenty. It sounds like good eating, don't it! But of +course that was just at first. It got quite settled up before long, and +by the time of the Revolution, bears were getting pretty scarce, and +soon the wood-pigeons were all gone." + +"And the schoolhouse--that schoolhouse where I went today--was that +built THEN?" Elizabeth Ann found it hard to believe. + +"Yes, it used to have a great big chimney and fireplace in it. It was +built long before stoves were invented, you know." + +"Why, I thought stoves were ALWAYS invented!" cried Elizabeth Ann. This +was the most startling and interesting conversation she had ever taken +part in. + +Aunt Abigail laughed. "Mercy, no, child! Why, _I_ can remember when only +folks that were pretty well off had stoves and real poor people still +cooked over a hearth fire. I always thought it a pity they tore down the +big chimney and fireplace out of the schoolhouse and put in that big, +ugly stove. But folks are so daft over new-fangled things. Well, anyhow, +they couldn't take away the sun-dial on the window-sill. You want to be +sure to look at that. It's on the sill of the middle window on the right +hand as you face the teacher's desk." + +"Sun-dial," repeated Betsy. "What's that?" + +"Why to tell the time by, when--" + +"Why didn't they have a clock?" asked the child. + +Aunt Abigail laughed. "Good gracious, there was only one clock in the +valley for years and years, and that belonged to the Wardons, the rich +people in the village. Everybody had sun-dials cut in their +window-sills. There's one on the window-sill of our pantry this minute. +Come on, I'll show it to you." She got up heavily with her pan of +apples, and trotted briskly, shaking the floor as she went, over to the +stove. "But first just watch me put these on to cook so you'll know +how." She set the pan on the stove, poured some water from the +tea-kettle over the apples, and put on a cover. "Now come on into the +pantry." + +They entered a sweet-smelling, spicy little room, all white paint, and +shelves which were loaded with dishes and boxes and bags and pans of +milk and jars of preserves. + +"There!" said Aunt Abigail, opening the window. "That's not so good as +the one at school. This only tells when noon is." + +Elizabeth Ann stared stupidly at the deep scratch on the window-sill. + +"Don't you see?" said Aunt Abigail. "When the shadow got to that mark it +was noon. And the rest of the time you guessed by how far it was from +the mark. Let's see if I can come anywhere near it now." She looked at it +hard and said: "I guess it's half-past four." She glanced back into the +kitchen at the clock and said: "Oh pshaw! It's ten minutes past five! +Now my grandmother could have told that within five minutes, just by the +place of the shadow. I declare! Sometimes it seems to me that every time +a new piece of machinery comes into the door some of our wits fly out at +the window! Now I couldn't any more live without matches than I could +fly! And yet they all used to get along all right before they had +matches. Makes me feel foolish to think I'm not smart enough to get +along, if I WANTED to, without those little snips of pine and brimstone. +Here, Betsy, take a cooky. It's against my principles to let a child +leave the pantry without having a cooky. My! it does seem like living +again to have a young one around to stuff!" + +Betsy took the cooky, but went on with the conversation by exclaiming, +"HOW could ANY-body get along without matches? You HAVE to have +matches." + +Aunt Abigail didn't answer at first. They were back in the kitchen now. +She was looking at the clock again. "See here," she said; "it's time I +began getting supper ready. We divide up on the work. Ann gets the +dinner and I get the supper. And everybody gets his own breakfast. Which +would you rather do, help Ann with the dinner, or me with the supper?" + +Elizabeth Ann had not had the slightest idea of helping anybody with any +meal, but, confronted unexpectedly with the alternative offered, she +made up her mind so quickly that she didn't want to help Cousin Ann, and +declared so loudly, "Oh, help YOU with the supper!" that her promptness +made her sound quite hearty and willing. "Well, that's fine," said Aunt +Abigail. "We'll set the table now. But first you would better look at +that apple sauce. I hear it walloping away as though it was boiling too +fast. Maybe you'd better push it back where it won't cook so fast. There +are the holders, on that hook." + +Elizabeth Ann approached the stove with the holder in her hand and +horror in her heart. Nobody had ever dreamed of asking her to handle hot +things. She looked around dismally at Aunt Abigail, but the old woman +was standing with her back turned, doing something at the kitchen table. +Very gingerly the little girl took hold of the handle of the saucepan, +and very gingerly she shoved it to the back of the stove. And then she +stood still a moment to admire herself. She could do that as well as +anybody! + +"Why," said Aunt Abigail, as if remembering that Betsy had asked her a +question. "Any man could strike a spark from his flint and steel that he +had for his gun. And he'd keep striking it till it happened to fly out +in the right direction, and you'd catch it in some fluff where it would +start a smoulder, and you'd blow on it till you got a little flame, and +drop tiny bits of shaved-up dry pine in it, and so, little by little, +you'd build your fire up." + +"But it must have taken forEVER to do that!" + +"Oh, you didn't have to do that more than once in ever so long," said +Aunt Abigail, briskly. She interrupted her story to say: "Now you put +the silver around, while I cream the potatoes. It's in that drawer--a +knife, a fork, and two spoons for each place--and the plates and cups +are up there behind the glass doors. We're going to have hot cocoa again +tonight." And as the little girl, hypnotized by the other's casual, +offhand way of issuing instructions, began to fumble with the knives and +forks she went on: "Why, you'd start your fire that way, and then you'd +never let it go out. Everybody that amounted to anything knew how to +bank the hearth fire with ashes at night so it would be sure to last. +And the first thing in the morning, you got down on your knees and poked +the ashes away very carefully till you got to the hot coals. Then you'd +blow with the bellows and drop in pieces of dry pine--don't forget the +water-glasses--and you'd blow gently till they flared up and the +shavings caught, and there your fire would be kindled again. The napkins +are in the second drawer." + +Betsy went on setting the table, deep in thought, reconstructing the old +life. As she put the napkins around she said, "But SOMETIMES it must +have gone out ..." + +"Yes," said Aunt Abigail, "sometimes it went out, and then one of the +children was sent over to the nearest neighbor to borrow some fire. He'd +take a covered iron pan fastened on to a long hickory stick, and go +through the woods--everything was woods then--to the next house and wait +till they had their fire going and could spare him a pan full of coals; +and then--don't forget the salt and pepper--he would leg it home as fast +as he could streak it, to get there before the coals went out. Say, +Betsy, I think that apple sauce is ready to be sweetened. You do it, +will you? I've got my hands in the biscuit dough. The sugar's in the +left-hand drawer in the kitchen cabinet." + +"Oh, MY!" cried Betsy, dismayed. "_I_ don't know how to cook!" + +Aunt Abigail laughed and put back a strand of curly white hair with the +back of her floury hand. "You know how to stir sugar into your cup of +cocoa, don't you?" + +"But how MUCH shall I put in?" asked Elizabeth Ann, clamoring for exact +instruction so she wouldn't need to do any thinking for herself. + +"Oh, till it tastes right," said Aunt Abigail, carelessly. "Fix it to +suit yourself, and I guess the rest of us will like it. Take that big +spoon to stir it with." + +Elizabeth Ann took off the lid and began stirring in sugar, a +teaspoonful at a time, but she soon saw that that made no impression. +She poured in a cupful, stirred it vigorously, and tasted it. Better, +but not quite enough. She put in a tablespoonful more and tasted it, +staring off into space under bended brows as she concentrated her +attention on the taste. It was quite a responsibility to prepare the +apple sauce for a family. It was ever so good, too. But maybe a LITTLE +more sugar. She put in a teaspoonful and decided it was just exactly +right! + +"Done?" asked Aunt Abigail. "Take it off, then, and pour it out in that +big yellow bowl, and put it on the table in front of your place. You've +made it; you ought to serve it." + +"It isn't done, is it?" asked Betsy. "That isn't all you do to make +apple sauce!" + +"What else could you do?" asked Aunt Abigail. + +"Well...!" said Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised. "I didn't know it +was so easy to cook!" + +"Easiest thing in the world," said Aunt Abigail gravely, with the merry +wrinkles around her merry old eyes all creased up with silent fun. + +When Uncle Henry came in from the barn, with old Shep at his heels, and +Cousin Ann came down from upstairs, where her sewing-machine had been +humming like a big bee, they were both duly impressed when told that +Betsy had set the table and made the apple sauce. They pronounced it +very good apple sauce indeed, and each sent his saucer back to the +little girl for a second helping. She herself ate three saucerfuls. Her +own private opinion was that it was the very best apple sauce ever made. + +After supper was over and the dishes washed and wiped, Betsy helping +with the putting-away, the four gathered around the big lamp on the +table with the red cover. Cousin Ann was making some buttonholes in the +shirt-waist she had constructed that afternoon, Aunt Abigail was darning +socks, and Uncle Henry was mending a piece of harness. Shep lay on the +couch and snored until he got so noisy they couldn't stand it, and +Cousin Ann poked him in the ribs and he woke up snorting and gurgling +and looking around very sheepishly. Every time this happened it made +Betsy laugh. She held Eleanor, who didn't snore at all, but made the +prettiest little tea-kettle-singing purr deep in her throat, and opened +and sheathed her needle-like claws in Betsy's dress. + +"Well, how'd you get on at school?" asked Uncle Henry. + +"I've got your desk," said Elizabeth Ann, looking at him curiously, at +his gray hair and wrinkled, weather-beaten face, and trying to think +what he must have looked like when he was a little boy like Ralph. + +"So?" said Uncle Henry. "Well, let me tell you that's a mighty good +desk! Did you notice the deep groove in the top of it?" + +Betsy nodded. She had wondered what that was used for. + +"Well, that was the lead-pencil desk in the old days. When they couldn't +run down to the store to buy things, because there wasn't any store to +run to, how do you suppose they got their lead-pencils!" Elizabeth Ann +shook her head, incapable even of a guess. She had never thought before +but that lead-pencils grew in glass show-cases in stores. + +"Well, sir," said Uncle Henry, "I'll tell you. They took a piece off the +lump of lead they made their bullets of, melted it over the fire in the +hearth down at the schoolhouse till it would run like water, and poured +it in that groove. When it cooled off, there was a long streak of solid +lead, about as big as one of our lead-pencils nowadays. They'd break +that up in shorter lengths, and there you'd have your lead-pencils, made +while you wait. Oh, I tell you in the old days folks knew how to take +care of themselves more than now." + +"Why, weren't there any stores?" asked Elizabeth Ann. She could not +imagine living without buying things at stores. + +"Where'd they get the things to put in a store in those days?" asked +Uncle Henry, argumentatively. "Every single thing had to be lugged clear +from Albany or from Connecticut on horseback." + +"Why didn't they use wagons?" asked Elizabeth Ann. + +"You can't run a wagon unless you've got a road to run it on, can you?" +asked Uncle Henry. "It was a long, long time before they had any roads. +It's an awful chore to make roads in a new country all woods and hills +and swamps and rocks. You were lucky if there was a good path from your +house to the next settlement." + +"Now, Henry," said Aunt Abigail, "do stop going on about old times long +enough to let Betsy answer the question you asked her. You haven't given +her a chance to say how she got on at school." + +"Well, I'm AWFULLY mixed up!" said Betsy, complainingly. "I don't know +what I am! I'm second-grade arithmetic and third-grade spelling and +seventh-grade reading and I don't know what in writing or composition. +We didn't have those." + +Nobody seemed to think this very remarkable, or even very interesting. +Uncle Henry, indeed, noted it only to say, "Seventh-grade reading!" He +turned to Aunt Abigail. "Oh, Mother, don't you suppose she could read +aloud to us evenings?" + +Aunt Abigail and Cousin Ann both laid down their sewing to laugh! "Yes, +yes, Father, and play checkers with you too, like as not!" They +explained to Betsy: "Your Uncle Henry is just daft on being read aloud +to when he's got something to do in the evening, and when he hasn't he's +as fidgety as a broody hen if he can't play checkers. Ann hates checkers +and I haven't got the time, often." + +"Oh, I LOVE to play checkers!" said Betsy. + +"Well, NOW ..." said Uncle Henry, rising instantly and dropping his +half-mended harness on the table. "Let's have a game." + +"Oh, Father!" said Cousin Ann, in the tone she used for Shep. "How about +that piece of breeching! You know that's not safe. Why don't you finish +that up first?" + +Uncle Henry sat down again, looking as Shep did when Cousin Ann told him +to get up on the couch, and took up his needle and awl. + +"But I could read something aloud," said Betsy, feeling very sorry for +him. "At least I think I could. I never did, except at school." + +"What shall we have, Mother?" asked Uncle Henry eagerly. + +"Oh, I don't know. What have we got in this bookcase?" said Aunt +Abigail. "It's pretty cold to go into the parlor to the other one." She +leaned forward, ran her fat fore-finger over the worn old volumes, and +took out a battered, blue-covered book. "Scott?" + +"Gosh, yes!" said Uncle Henry, his eyes shining. "The staggit eve!" + +At least that was the way it sounded to Betsy, but when she took the +book and looked where Aunt Abigail pointed she read it correctly, though +in a timid, uncertain voice. She was very proud to think she could +please a grown-up so much as she was evidently pleasing Uncle Henry, but +the idea of reading aloud for people to hear, not for a teacher to +correct, was unheard-of. + + The Stag at eve had drunk his fill + Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, + +she began, and it was as though she had stepped into a boat and was +swept off by a strong current. She did not know what all the words +meant, and she could not pronounce a good many of the names, but nobody +interrupted to correct her, and she read on and on, steadied by the +strongly-marked rhythm, drawn forward swiftly from one clanging, +sonorous rhyme to another. Uncle Henry nodded his head in time to the +rise and fall of her voice and now and then stopped his work to look at +her with bright, eager, old eyes. He knew some of the places by heart +evidently, for once in a while his voice would join the little girl's +for a couplet or two. They chanted together thus: + + A moment listened to the cry + That thickened as the chase drew nigh, + Then, as the headmost foes appeared, + With one brave bound, the copse he cleared. + +At the last line Uncle Henry flung his arm out wide, and the child felt +as though the deer had made his great leap there, before her eyes. + +"I've seen 'em jump just like that," broke in Uncle Henry. "A +two-three-hundred-pound stag go up over a four-foot fence just like a +piece of thistledown in the wind." + +"Uncle Henry," asked Elizabeth Ann, "what is a copse?" + +"I don't know," said Uncle Henry indifferently. "Something in the woods, +must be. Underbrush most likely. You can always tell words you don't +know by the sense of the whole thing. Go on." + + And stretching forward, free and far, + +The child's voice took up the chant again. She read faster and faster as +it got more exciting. Uncle Henry joined in on + + For, jaded now and spent with toil, + Embossed with foam and dark with soil, + While every gasp with sobs he drew, + The laboring stag strained full in view. + +The little girl's heart beat fast. She fled along through the next +lines, stumbling desperately over the hard words but seeing the headlong +chase through them clearly as through tree-trunks in a forest. Uncle +Henry broke in in a triumphant shout: + + The wily quarry shunned the shock + And TURNED him from the opposing rock; + Then dashing down a darksome glen, + Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, + In the deep Trossach's wildest nook + His solitary refuge took. + +"Oh MY!" cried Elizabeth Ann, laying down the book. "He got away, didn't +he? I was so afraid he wouldn't!" + +"I can just hear those dogs yelping, can't you?" said Uncle Henry. + + Yelled on the view the opening pack. + +"Sometimes you hear 'em that way up on the slope of Hemlock Mountain +back of us, when they get to running a deer." + +"What say we have some pop-corn!" suggested Aunt Abigail. "Betsy, don't +you want to pop us some?" + +"I never DID," said the little girl, but in a less doubtful tone than +she had ever used with that phrase so familiar to her. A dim notion was +growing up in her mind that the fact that she had never done a thing was +no proof that she couldn't. + +"I'll show you," said Uncle Henry. He reached down a couple of ears from +a big yellow cluster hanging on the wall, and he and Betsy shelled them +into the popper, popped it full of snowy kernels, buttered it, salted +it, and took it back to the table. + +It was just as she was eating her first ambrosial mouthful that the door +opened and a fur-capped head was thrust in. A man's voice said: +"Evenin', folks. No, I can't stay. I was down at the village just now, +and thought I'd ask for any mail down our way." He tossed a newspaper +and a letter on the table and was gone. + +The letter was addressed to Elizabeth Ann and it was from Aunt Frances. +She read it to herself while Uncle Henry read the newspaper. Aunt +Frances wrote that she had been perfectly horrified to learn that Cousin +Molly had not kept Elizabeth Ann with her, and that she would never +forgive her for that cruelty. And when she thought that her darling was +at Putney Farm...! Her blood ran cold. It positively did! It was too +dreadful. But it couldn't be helped, for a time anyhow, because Aunt +Harriet was really VERY sick. Elizabeth Ann would have to be a dear, +brave child and endure it as best she could. And as soon ... oh, as soon +as ever she COULD, Aunt Frances would come and take her away from them. +"Don't cry TOO much, darling ... it breaks my heart to think of you there! +TRY to be cheerful, dearest! TRY to bear it for the sake of your +distracted, loving Aunt Frances." + +Elizabeth Ann looked up from this letter and across the table at Aunt +Abigail's rosy, wrinkled old face, bent over her darning. Uncle Henry +laid the paper down, took a big mouthful of pop-corn, and beat time +silently with his hand. When he could speak he murmured: An hundred dogs +bayed deep and strong, Clattered an hundred steeds along. + +Old Shep woke up with a snort and Aunt Abigail fed him a handful of +pop-corn. Little Eleanor stirred in her sleep, stretched, yawned, and +nestled down into a ball again on the little girl's lap. Betsy could +feel in her own body the rhythmic vibration of the kitten's contented +purr. + +Aunt Abigail looked up: "Finished your letter? I hope Harriet is no +worse. What does Frances say?" + +Elizabeth Ann blushed a deep red and crushed the letter together in her +hand. She felt ashamed and she did not know why. "Aunt Frances +says, ... Aunt Frances says, ..." she began, hesitating. "She says Aunt +Harriet is still pretty sick." She stopped, drew a long breath, and went +on, "And she sends her love to you." + +Now Aunt Frances hadn't done anything of the kind, so this was a really +whopping fib. But Elizabeth Ann didn't care if it was. It made her feel +less ashamed, though she did not know why. She took another mouthful of +pop-corn and stroked Eleanor's back. Uncle Henry got up and stretched. +"It's time to go to bed, folks," he said. As he wound the clock Betsy +heard him murmuring: + + But when the sun his beacon red.... + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ELIZABETH ANN FAILS IN AN EXAMINATION + +I wonder if you can guess the name of a little girl who, about a month +after this, was walking along through the melting snow in the woods with +a big black dog running circles around her. Yes, all alone in the woods +with a terrible great dog beside her, and yet not a bit afraid. You +don't suppose it could be Elizabeth Ann? Well, whoever she was, she had +something on her mind, for she walked more and more slowly and had only +a very absent-minded pat for the dog's head when he thrust it up for a +caress. When the wood road led into a clearing in which there was a +rough little house of slabs, the child stopped altogether, and, looking +down, began nervously to draw lines in the snow with her overshoe. + +You see, something perfectly dreadful had happened in school that day. +The Superintendent, the all-important, seldom-seen Superintendent, came +to visit the school and the children were given some examinations so he +could see how they were getting on. + +Now, you know what an examination did to Elizabeth Ann. Or haven't I +told you yet? + +Well, if I haven't, it's because words fail me. If there is anything +horrid that an examination DIDn't do to Elizabeth Ann, I have yet to +hear of it. It began years ago, before ever she went to school, when she +heard Aunt Frances talking about how SHE had dreaded examinations when +she was a child, and how they dried up her mouth and made her ears ring +and her head ache and her knees get all weak and her mind a perfect +blank, so that she didn't know what two and two made. Of course +Elizabeth Ann didn't feel ALL those things right off at her first +examination, but by the time she had had several and had rushed to tell +Aunt Frances about how awful they were and the two of them had +sympathized with one another and compared symptoms and then wept about +her resulting low marks, why, she not only had all the symptoms Aunt +Frances had ever had, but a good many more of her own invention. + +Well, she had had them all and had them hard this afternoon, when the +Superintendent was there. Her mouth had gone dry and her knees had +shaken and her elbows had felt as though they had no more bones in them +than so much jelly, and her eyes had smarted, and oh, what answers she +had made! That dreadful tight panic had clutched at her throat whenever +the Superintendent had looked at her, and she had disgraced herself ten +times over. She went hot and cold to think of it, and felt quite sick +with hurt vanity. She who did so well every day and was so much looked +up to by her classmates, what MUST they be thinking of her! To tell the +truth, she had been crying as she walked along through the woods, +because she was so sorry for herself. Her eyes were all red still, and +her throat sore from the big lump in it. + +And now she would live it all over again as she told the Putney cousins. +For of course they must be told. She had always told Aunt Frances +everything that happened in school. It happened that Aunt Abigail had +been taking a nap when she got home from school, and so she had come out +to the sap-house, where Cousin Ann and Uncle Henry were making syrup, to +have it over with as soon as possible. She went up to the little slab +house now, dragging her feet and hanging her head, and opened the door. + +Cousin Ann, in a very short old skirt and a man's coat and high rubber +boots, was just poking some more wood into the big fire which blazed +furiously under the broad, flat pan where the sap was boiling. The +rough, brown hut was filled with white steam and that sweetest of all +odors, hot maple syrup. Cousin Ann turned her head, her face very red +with the heat of the fire, and nodded at the child. + +"Hello, Betsy, you're just in time. I've saved out a cupful of hot syrup +for you, all ready to wax." + +Betsy hardly heard this, although she had been wild about waxed sugar on +snow ever since her very first taste of it. "Cousin Ann," she said +unhappily, "the Superintendent visited our school this afternoon." + +"Did he!" said Cousin Ann, dipping a thermometer into the boiling syrup. + +"Yes, and we had EXAMINATIONS!" said Betsy. + +"Did you?" said Cousin Ann, holding the thermometer up to the light and +looking at it. + +"And you know how perfectly awful examinations make you feel," said +Betsy, very near to tears again. + +"Why, no," said Cousin Ann, sorting over syrup tins. "They never made me +feel awful. I thought they were sort of fun." + +"FUN!" cried Betsy, indignantly, staring through the beginnings of her +tears. + +"Why, yes. Like taking a dare, don't you know. Somebody stumps you to +jump off the hitching-post, and you do it to show 'em. I always used to +think examinations were like that. Somebody stumps you to spell +'pneumonia,' and you do it to show 'em. Here's your cup of syrup. You'd +better go right out and wax it while it's hot." + +Elizabeth Ann automatically took the cup in her hand, but she did not +look at it. "But supposing you get so scared you can't spell 'pneumonia' +or anything else!" she said feelingly. "That's what happened to me. You +know how your mouth gets all dry and your knees ..." She stopped. Cousin +Ann had said she did NOT know all about those things. "Well, anyhow, I +got so scared I could hardly STAND up! And I made the most awful +mistakes--things I know just as WELL! I spelled 'doubt' without any b +and 'separate' with an e, and I said Iowa was bounded on the north by +Wisconsin, and I ..." + +"Oh, well," said Cousin Ann, "it doesn't matter if you really know the +right answers, does it? That's the important thing." + +This was an idea which had never in all her life entered Betsy's brain +and she did not take it in at all now. She only shook her head miserably +and went on in a doleful tone. "And I said 13 and 8 are 22! and I wrote +March without any capital M, and I ..." + +"Look here, Betsy, do you WANT to tell me all this?" Cousin Ann spoke in +the quick, ringing voice she had once in a while which made everybody, +from old Shep up, open his eyes and get his wits about him. Betsy +gathered hers and thought hard; and she came to an unexpected +conclusion. No, she didn't really want to tell Cousin Ann all about it. +Why was she doing it? Because she thought that was the thing to do. +"Because if you don't really want to," went on Cousin Ann, "I don't see +that it's doing anybody any good. I guess Hemlock Mountain will stand +right there just the same even if you did forget to put a b in 'doubt.' +And your syrup will be too cool to wax right if you don't take it out +pretty soon." + +She turned back to stoke the fire, and Elizabeth Ann, in a daze, found +herself walking out of the door. It fell shut after her, and there she +was under the clear, pale-blue sky, with the sun just hovering over the +rim of Hemlock Mountain. She looked up at the big mountains, all blue +and silver with shadows and snow, and wondered what in the world Cousin +Ann had meant. Of course Hemlock Mountain would stand there just the +same. But what of it? What did that have to do with her arithmetic, with +anything? She had failed in her examination, hadn't she? + +She found a clean white snow-bank under a pine-tree, and, setting her +cup of syrup down in a safe place, began to pat the snow down hard to +make the right bed for the waxing of the syrup. The sun, very hot for +that late March day, brought out strongly the tarry perfume of the big +pine-tree. Near her the sap dripped musically into a bucket, already +half full, hung on a maple-tree. A blue-jay rushed suddenly through the +upper branches of the wood, his screaming and chattering voice sounding +like noisy children at play. + +Elizabeth Ann took up her cup and poured some of the thick, hot syrup +out on the hard snow, making loops and curves as she poured. It +stiffened and hardened at once, and she lifted up a great coil of it, +threw her head back, and let it drop into her mouth. Concentrated +sweetness of summer days was in that mouthful, part of it still hot and +aromatic, part of it icy and wet with melting snow. She crunched it all +together with her strong, child's teeth into a delicious, big lump and +sucked on it dreamily, her eyes on the rim of Hemlock Mountain, high +above her there, the snow on it bright golden in the sunlight. Uncle +Henry had promised to take her up to the top as soon as the snow went +off. She wondered what the top of a mountain would be like. Uncle Henry +had said the main thing was that you could see so much of the world at +once. He said it was too queer the way your own house and big barn and +great fields looked like little toy things that weren't of any account. +It was because you could see so much more than just the.... + +She heard an imploring whine, and a cold nose was thrust into her hand! +Why, there was old Shep begging for his share of waxed sugar. He loved +it, though it did stick to his teeth so! She poured out another lot and +gave half of it to Shep. It immediately stuck his jaws together tight, +and he began pawing at his mouth and shaking his head till Betsy had to +laugh. Then he managed to pull his jaws apart and chewed loudly and +visibly, tossing his head, opening his mouth wide till Betsy could see +the sticky, brown candy draped in melting festoons all over his big +white teeth and red gullet. Then with a gulp he had swallowed it all +down and was whining for more, striking softly at the little girl's +skirt with his forepaw. "Oh, you eat it too fast!" cried Betsy, but she +shared her next lot with him too. The sun had gone down over Hemlock +Mountain by this time, and the big slope above her was all deep blue +shadow. The mountain looked much higher now as the dusk began to fall, +and loomed up bigger and bigger as though it reached to the sky. It was +no wonder houses looked small from its top. Betsy ate the last of her +sugar, looking up at the quiet giant there, towering grandly above her. +There was no lump in her throat now. And, although she still thought she +did not know what in the world Cousin Ann meant by saying that about +Hemlock Mountain and her examination, it's my opinion that she had made +a very good beginning of an understanding. + +She was just picking up her cup to take it back to the sap-house when +Shep growled a little and stood with his ears and tail up, looking down +the road. Something was coming down that road in the blue, clear +twilight, something that was making a very queer noise. It sounded +almost like somebody crying. It WAS somebody crying! It was a child +crying. It was a little, little girl. ... Betsy could see her +now ... stumbling along and crying as though her heart would break. Why, +it was little Molly, her own particular charge at school, whose reading +lesson she heard every day. Betsy and Shep ran to meet her. "What's the +matter, Molly? What's the matter?" Betsy knelt down and put her arms +around the weeping child. "Did you fall down? Did you hurt you? What are +you doing 'way off here? Did you lose your way?" + +"I don't want to go away! I don't want to go away!" said Molly over and +over, clinging tightly to Betsy. It was a long time before Betsy could +quiet her enough to find out what had happened. Then she made out +between Molly's sobs that her mother had been taken suddenly sick and +had to go away to a hospital, and that left nobody at home to take care +of Molly, and she was to be sent away to some strange relatives in the +city who didn't want her at all and who said so right out.... + +Oh, Elizabeth Ann knew all about that! and her heart swelled big with +sympathy. For a moment she stood again out on the sidewalk in front of +the Lathrop house with old Mrs. Lathrop's ungracious white head bobbing +from a window, and knew again that ghastly feeling of being unwanted. +Oh, she knew why little Molly was crying! And she shut her hands +together hard and made up her mind that she WOULD help her out! + +[Illustration: "What's the matter, Molly? What's the matter?"] + +Do you know what she did, right off, without thinking about it? She +didn't go and look up Aunt Abigail. She didn't wait till Uncle Henry +came back from his round of emptying sap buckets into the big tub on his +sled. As fast as her feet could carry her she flew back to Cousin Ann in +the sap-house. I can't tell you (except again that Cousin Ann was Cousin +Ann) why it was that Betsy ran so fast to her and was so sure that +everything would be all right as soon as Cousin Ann knew about it; but +whatever the reason was it was a good one, for, though Cousin Ann did +not stop to kiss Molly or even to look at her more than one sharp first +glance, she said after a moment's pause, during which she filled a syrup +can and screwed the cover down very tight: "Well, if her folks will let +her stay, how would you like to have Molly come and stay with us till +her mother gets back from the hospital? Now you've got a room of your +own, I guess if you wanted to you could have her sleep with you." + +"Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly!" shouted Betsy, jumping up and down, and then +hugging the little girl with all her might. "Oh, it will be like having +a little sister!" + +Cousin Ann sounded a dry, warning note: "Don't be too sure her folks +will let her. We don't know about them yet." + +Betsy ran to her, and caught her hand, looking up at her with shining +eyes. "Cousin Ann, if YOU go to see them and ask them, they will!" + +This made even Cousin Ann give a little abashed smile of pleasure, +although she made her face grave again at once and said: "You'd better +go along back to the house now, Betsy. It's time for you to help Mother +with the supper." + +The two children trotted back along the darkening wood road, Shep +running before them, little Molly clinging fast to the older child's +hand. "Aren't you ever afraid, Betsy, in the woods this way?" she asked +admiringly, looking about her with timid eyes. + +"Oh, no!" said Betsy, protectingly; "there's nothing to be afraid of, +except getting off on the wrong fork of the road, near the Wolf Pit." + +"Oh, OW!" said Molly, cringing. "What's the Wolf Pit? What an awful +name!" + +Betsy laughed. She tried to make her laugh sound brave like Cousin +Ann's, which always seemed so scornful of being afraid. As a matter of +fact, she was beginning to fear that they HAD made the wrong turn, and +she was not quite sure that she could find the way home. But she put +this out of her mind and walked along very fast, peering ahead into the +dusk. "Oh, it hasn't anything to do with wolves," she said in answer to +Molly's question; "anyhow, not now. It's just a big, deep hole in the +ground where a brook had dug out a cave. ... Uncle Henry told me all +about it when he showed it to me ... and then part of the roof caved in; +sometimes there's ice in the corner of the covered part all the summer, +Aunt Abigail says." + +"Why do you call it the Wolf Pit?" asked Molly, walking very close to +Betsy and holding very tightly to her hand. + +"Oh, long, ever so long ago, when the first settlers came up here, they +heard a wolf howling all night, and when it didn't stop in the morning, +they came up here on the mountain and found a wolf had fallen in and +couldn't get out." + +"My! I hope they killed him!" said Molly. + +"Oh, gracious! that was more than a hundred years ago," said Betsy. She +was not thinking of what she was saying. She was thinking that if they +WERE on the right road they ought to be home by this time. She was +thinking that the right road ran down hill to the house all the way, and +that this certainly seemed to be going up a little. She was wondering +what had become of Shep. "Stand here just a minute, Molly," she said. "I +want ... I just want to go ahead a little bit and see ... and see ..." She +darted on around a curve of the road and stood still, her heart sinking. +The road turned there and led straight up the mountain! + +For just a moment the little girl felt a wild impulse to burst out in a +shriek for Aunt Frances, and to run crazily away, anywhere so long as +she was running. But the thought of Molly standing back there, +trustfully waiting to be taken care of, shut Betsy's lips together hard +before her scream of fright got out. She stood still, thinking. Now she +mustn't get frightened. All they had to do was to walk back along the +road till they came to the fork and then make the right turn. But what +if they didn't get back to the turn till it was so dark they couldn't +see it...? Well, she mustn't think of that. She ran back, calling, "Come +on, Molly," in a tone she tried to make as firm as Cousin Ann's. "I +guess we have made the wrong turn after all. We'd better ..." + +But there was no Molly there. In the brief moment Betsy had stood +thinking, Molly had disappeared. The long, shadowy wood road held not a +trace of her. + +Then Betsy WAS frightened and then she DID begin to scream, at the top +of her voice, "Molly! Molly!" She was beside herself with terror, and +started back hastily to hear Molly's voice, very faint, apparently +coming from the ground under her feet. + +"Ow! Ow! Betsy! Get me out! Get me out!" + +"Where ARE you?" shrieked Betsy. + +"I don't know!" came Molly's sobbing voice. "I just moved the least +little bit out of the road, and slipped on the ice and began to slide +and I couldn't stop myself and I fell down into a deep hole!" + +Betsy's head felt as though her hair were standing up straight on end +with horror. Molly must have fallen down into the Wolf Pit! Yes, they +were quite near it. She remembered now that big white-birch tree stood +right at the place where the brook tumbled over the edge and fell into +it. Although she was dreadfully afraid of falling in herself, she went +cautiously over to this tree, feeling her way with her foot to make sure +she did not slip, and peered down into the cavernous gloom below. Yes, +there was Molly's little face, just a white speck. The child was crying, +sobbing, and holding up her arms to Betsy. + +"Are you hurt, Molly?" + +"No. I fell into a big snow-bank, but I'm all wet and frozen and I want +to get out! I want to get out!" + +Betsy held on to the birch-tree. Her head whirled. What SHOULD she do! +"Look here, Molly," she called down, "I'm going to run back along to the +right road and back to the house and get Uncle Henry. He'll come with a +rope and get you out!" + +At this Molly's crying rose to a frantic scream. "Oh, Betsy, don't leave +me here alone! Don't! Don't! The wolves will get me! Betsy, DON'T leave +me alone!" The child was wild with terror. + +"But I CAN'T get you out myself!" screamed back Betsy, crying herself. +Her teeth were chattering with the cold. + +"Don't go! Don't go!" came up from the darkness of the pit in a piteous +howl. Betsy made a great effort and stopped crying. She sat down on a +stone and tried to think. And this is what came into her mind as a +guide: "What would Cousin Ann do if she were here? She wouldn't cry. She +would THINK of something." + +Betsy looked around her desperately. The first thing she saw was the big +limb of a pine-tree, broken off by the wind, which half lay and half +slantingly stood up against a tree a little distance above the mouth of +the pit. It had been there so long that the needles had all dried and +fallen off, and the skeleton of the branch with the broken stubs looked +like ... yes, it looked like a ladder! THAT was what Cousin Ann would have +done! + +"Wait a minute! Wait a minute, Molly!" she called wildly down the pit, +warm all over in excitement. "Now listen. You go off there in a corner, +where the ground makes a sort of roof. I'm going to throw down something +you can climb up on, maybe." + +"Ow! Ow, it'll hit me!" cried poor little Molly, more and more +frightened. But she scrambled off under her shelter obediently, while +Betsy struggled with the branch. It was so firmly imbedded in the snow +that at first she could not budge it at all. But after she cleared that +away and pried hard with the stick she was using as a lever she felt it +give a little. She bore down with all her might, throwing her weight +again and again on her lever, and finally felt the big branch +perceptibly move. After that it was easier, as its course was down hill +over the snow to the mouth of the pit. Glowing, and pushing, wet with +perspiration, she slowly maneuvered it along to the edge, turned it +squarely, gave it a great shove, and leaned over anxiously. Then she +gave a great sigh of relief! Just as she had hoped, it went down sharp +end first and stuck fast in the snow which had saved Molly from broken +bones. She was so out of breath with her work that for a moment she +could not speak. Then, "Molly, there! Now I guess you can climb up to +where I can reach you." + +Molly made a rush for any way out of her prison, and climbed, like the +little practiced squirrel that she was, up from one stub to another to +the top of the branch. She was still below the edge of the pit there, +but Betsy lay flat down on the snow and held out her hands. Molly took +hold hard, and, digging her toes into the snow, slowly wormed her way up +to the surface of the ground. + +It was then, at that very moment, that Shep came bounding up to them, +barking loudly, and after him Cousin Ann striding along in her rubber +boots, with a lantern in her hand and a rather anxious look on her face. + +She stopped short and looked at the two little girls, covered with snow, +their faces flaming with excitement, and at the black hole gaping behind +them. "I always TOLD Father we ought to put a fence around that pit," +she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Some day a sheep's going to fall +down there. Shep came along to the house without you, and we thought +most likely you'd taken the wrong turn." + +Betsy felt terribly aggrieved. She wanted to be petted and praised for +her heroism. She wanted Cousin Ann to REALIZE ... oh, if Aunt Frances were +only there, SHE would realize...! + +"I fell down in the hole, and Betsy wanted to go and get Mr. Putney, but +I wouldn't let her, and so she threw down a big branch and I climbed +out," explained Molly, who, now that her danger was past, took Betsy's +action quite as a matter of course. + +"Oh, that was how it happened," said Cousin Ann. She looked down the +hole and saw the big branch, and looked back and saw the long trail of +crushed snow where Betsy had dragged it. "Well, now, that was quite a +good idea for a little girl to have," she said briefly. "I guess you'll +do to take care of Molly all right!" + +She spoke in her usual voice and immediately drew the children after +her, but Betsy's heart was singing joyfully as she trotted along +clasping Cousin Ann's strong hand. Now she knew that Cousin Ann +realized. ... She trotted fast, smiling to herself in the darkness. + +"What made you think of doing that?" asked Cousin Ann presently, as they +approached the house. + +"Why, I tried to think what YOU would have done if you'd been there," +said Betsy. + +"Oh!" said Cousin Ann. "Well ..." + +She didn't say another word, but Betsy, glancing up into her face as +they stepped into the lighted room, saw an expression that made her give +a little skip and hop of joy. She had PLEASED Cousin Ann. + +That night, as she lay in her bed, her arm over Molly cuddled up warm +beside her, she remembered, oh, ever so faintly, as something of no +importance, that she had failed in an examination that afternoon. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BETSY STARTS A SEWING SOCIETY + +Betsy and Molly had taken Deborah to school with them. Deborah was the +old wooden doll with brown, painted curls. She had lain in a trunk +almost ever since Aunt Abigail's childhood, because Cousin Ann had never +cared for dolls when she was a little girl. At first Betsy had not dared +to ask to see her, much less to play with her, but when Ellen, as she +had promised, came over to Putney Farm that first Saturday she had said +right out, as soon as she landed in the house, "Oh, Mrs. Putney, can't +we play with Deborah?" And Aunt Abigail had answered: "Why YES, of +course! I KNEW there was something I've kept forgetting!" She went up +with them herself to the cold attic and opened the little hair-trunk +under the eaves. + +There lay a doll, flat on her back, looking up at them brightly out of +her blue eyes. + +"Well, Debby dear," said Aunt Abigail, taking her up gently. "It's a +good long time since you and I played under the lilac bushes, isn't it? +I expect you've been pretty lonesome up here all these years. Never you +mind, you'll have some good times again, now." She pulled down the +doll's full, ruffled skirt, straightened the lace at the neck of her +dress, and held her for a moment, looking down at her silently. You +could tell by the way she spoke, by the way she touched Deborah, by the +way she looked at her, that she had loved the doll very dearly, and +maybe still did, a little. + +When she put Deborah into Betsy's arms, the child felt that she was +receiving something very precious, almost something alive. She and Ellen +looked with delight at the yards and yards of picot-edged ribbon, sewed +on by hand to the ruffles of the skirt, and lifted up the silk folds to +admire the carefully made, full petticoats and frilly drawers, the +pretty, soft old kid shoes and white stockings. Aunt Abigail looked at +them with an absent smile on her lips, as though she were living over +old scenes. + +[Illustration: Betsy and Ellen and the old doll.] + +Finally, "It's too cold to play up here," she said, coming to herself +with a long breath. "You'd better bring Deborah and the trunk down into +the south room." She carried the doll, and Betsy and Ellen each took an +end of the old trunk, no larger than a modern suitcase. They settled +themselves on the big couch, back of the table with the lamp. Old Shep +was on it, but Betsy coaxed him off by putting down some bones Cousin +Ann had been saving for him. When he finished those and came back for +the rest of his snooze, he found his place occupied by the little girls, +sitting cross-legged, examining the contents of the trunk, all spread +out around them. Shep sighed deeply and sat down with his nose resting +on the couch near Betsy's knee, following all their movements with his +kind, dark eyes. Once in a while Betsy stopped hugging Deborah or +exclaiming over a new dress long enough to pat Shep's head and fondle +his ears. This was what he was waiting for, and every time she did it he +wagged his tail thumpingly against the floor. + +After that Deborah and her trunk were kept downstairs where Betsy could +play with her. And often she was taken to school. You never heard of +such a thing as taking a doll to school, did you? Well, I told you this +was a queer, old-fashioned school that any modern School Superintendent +would sniff at. As a matter of fact, it was not only Betsy who took her +doll to school; all the little girls did, whenever they felt like it. +Miss Benton, the teacher, had a shelf for them in the entry-way where +the wraps were hung, and the dolls sat on it and waited patiently all +through lessons. At recess time or nooning each little mother snatched +her own child and began to play. As soon as it grew warm enough to play +outdoors without just racing around every minute to keep from freezing +to death, the dolls and their mothers went out to a great pile of rocks +at one end of the bare, stony field which was the playground. + +There they sat and played in the spring sunshine, warmer from day to +day. There were a great many holes and shelves and pockets and little +caves in the rocks which made lovely places for playing keep-house. Each +little girl had her own particular cubby-holes and "rooms," and they +"visited" their dolls back and forth all around the pile. And as they +played they talked very fast about all sorts of things, being little +girls and not boys who just yelled and howled inarticulately as they +played ball or duck-on-a-rock or prisoner's goal, racing and running and +wrestling noisily all around the rocks. + +There was one child who neither played with the girls nor ran and +whooped with the boys. This was little six-year-old 'Lias, one of the +two boys in Molly's first grade. At recess time he generally hung about +the school door by himself, looking moodily down and knocking the toe of +his ragged, muddy shoe against a stone. The little girls were talking +about him one day as they played. "My! Isn't that 'Lias Brewster the +horridest-looking child!" said Eliza, who had the second grade all to +herself, although Molly now read out of the second reader with her. + +"Mercy, yes! So ragged!" said Anastasia Monahan, called Stashie for +short. She was a big girl, fourteen years old, who was in the seventh +grade. + +"He doesn't look as if he EVER combed his hair!" said Betsy. "It looks +just like a wisp of old hay." + +"And sometimes," little Molly proudly added her bit to the talk of the +older girls, "he forgets to put on any stockings and just has his +dreadful old shoes on over his dirty, bare feet." + +"I guess he hasn't GOT any stockings half the time," said big Stashie +scornfully. "I guess his stepfather drinks 'em up." + +"How CAN he drink up stockings!" asked Molly, opening her round eyes +very wide. + +"Sh! You mustn't ask. Little girls shouldn't know about such things, +should they, Betsy?" + +"No INDEED," said Betsy, looking mysterious. As a matter of fact, she +herself had no idea what Stashie meant, but she looked wise and said +nothing. + +Some of the boys had squatted down near the rocks for a game of marbles +now. + +"Well, anyhow," said Molly resentfully, "I don't care what his +stepfather does to his stockings. I wish 'Lias would wear 'em to school. +And lots of times he hasn't anything on under those horrid old overalls +either! I can see his bare skin through the torn places." + +"I wish he didn't have to sit so near me," said Betsy complainingly. +"He's SO dirty." + +"Well, I don't want him near ME, either!" cried all the other little +girls at once. Ralph glanced up at them frowning, from where he knelt +with his middle finger crooked behind a marble ready for a shot. He +looked as he always did, very rough and half-threatening. "Oh, you girls +make me sick!" he said. He sent his marble straight to the mark, +pocketed his opponent's, and stood up, scowling at the little mothers. +"I guess if you had to live the way he does you'd be dirty! Half the +time he don't get anything to eat before he comes to school, and if my +mother didn't put up some extra for him in my box he wouldn't get any +lunch either. And then you go and jump on him!" + +"Why doesn't his own mother put up his lunch?" Betsy challenged their +critic. + +"He hasn't got any mother. She's dead," said Ralph, turning away with +his hands in his pockets. He yelled to the boys, "Come on, fellers, +beat-che to the bridge and back!" and was off, with the others racing at +his heels. + +"Well, anyhow, I don't care; he IS dirty and horrid!" said Stashie +emphatically, looking over at the drooping, battered little figure, +leaning against the school door, listlessly kicking at a stone. + +But Betsy did not say anything more just then. + +The teacher, who "boarded 'round," was staying at Putney Farm at that +time, and that evening, as they all sat around the lamp in the south +room, Betsy looked up from her game of checkers with Uncle Henry and +asked, "How can anybody drink up stockings?" + +"Mercy, child! what are you talking about?" asked Aunt Abigail. + +Betsy repeated what Anastasia Monahan had said, and was flattered by the +instant, rather startled attention given her by the grown-ups. "Why, I +didn't know that Bud Walker had taken to drinking again!" said Uncle +Henry. "My! That's too bad!" + +"Who takes care of that child anyhow, now that poor Susie is dead?" Aunt +Abigail asked of everybody in general. + +"Is he just living there ALONE, with that good-for-nothing stepfather? +How do they get enough to EAT?" said Cousin Ann, looking troubled. + +Apparently Betsy's question had brought something half forgotten and +altogether neglected into their minds. They talked for some time after +that about 'Lias, the teacher confirming what Betsy and Stashie had +said. + +"And we sitting right here with plenty to eat and never raising a hand!" +cried Aunt Abigail. + +"How you WILL let things slip out of your mind!" said Cousin Ann +remorsefully. + +It struck Betsy vividly that 'Lias was not at all the one they blamed +for his objectionable appearance. She felt quite ashamed to go on with +the other things she and the little girls had said, and fell silent, +pretending to be very much absorbed in her game of checkers. + +"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail suddenly, as though an inspiration had +just struck her, "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if that Elmore Pond +might adopt 'Lias if he was gone at the right way." + +"Who's Elmore Pond?" asked the schoolteacher. + +"Why, you must have seen him--that great, big, red-faced, +good-natured-looking man that comes through here twice a year, buying +stock. He lives over Bigby way, but his wife was a Hillsboro girl, Matey +Pelham--an awfully nice girl she was, too. They never had any children, +and Matey told me the last time she was back for a visit that she and +her husband talked quite often about adopting a little boy. Seems that +Mr. Pond has always wanted a little boy. He's such a nice man! 'Twould +be a lovely home for a child." + +"But goodness!" said the teacher. "Nobody would want to adopt such an +awful-looking little ragamuffin as that 'Lias. He looks so meeching, +too. I guess his stepfather is real mean to him, when he's been +drinking, and it's got 'Lias so he hardly dares hold his head up." + +The clock struck loudly. "Well, hear that!" said Cousin Ann. "Nine +o'clock and the children not in bed! Molly's most asleep this minute. +Trot along with you, Betsy! Trot along, Molly. And, Betsy, be sure +Molly's nightgown is buttoned up all the way." + +So it happened that, although the grown-ups were evidently going on to +talk about 'Lias Brewster, Betsy heard no more of what they said. + +She herself went on thinking about 'Lias while she was undressing and +answering absently little Molly's chatter. She was thinking about him +even after they had gone to bed, had put the light out, and were lying +snuggled up to each other, back to front, their four legs, crooked at +the same angle, fitting in together neatly like two spoons in a drawer. +She was thinking about him when she woke up, and as soon as she could +get hold of Cousin Ann she poured out a new plan. She had never been +afraid of Cousin Ann since the evening Molly had fallen into the Wolf +Pit and Betsy had seen that pleased smile on Cousin Ann's firm lips. +"Cousin Ann, couldn't we girls at school get together and sew--you'd +have to help us some--and make some nice, new clothes for little 'Lias +Brewster, and fix him up so he'll look better, and maybe that Mr. Pond +will like him and adopt him?" + +Cousin Ann listened attentively and nodded her head. "Yes, I think that +would be a good idea," she said. "We were thinking last night we ought +to do something for him. If you'll make the clothes, Mother'll knit him +some stockings and Father will get him some shoes. Mr. Pond never makes +his spring trip till late May, so we'll have plenty of time." + +Betsy was full of importance that day at school and at recess time got +the girls together on the rocks and told them all about the plan. +"Cousin Ann says she'll help us, and we can meet at our house every +Saturday afternoon till we get them done. It'll be fun! Aunt Abigail +telephoned down to the store right away, and Mr. Wilkins says he'll give +the cloth if we'll make it up." + +Betsy spoke very grandly of "making it up," although she had hardly held +a needle in her life, and when the Saturday afternoon meetings began she +was ashamed to see how much better Ellen and even Eliza could sew than +she. To keep her end up, she was driven to practising her stitches +around the lamp in the evenings, with Aunt Abigail keeping an eye on +her. + +Cousin Ann supervised the sewing on Saturday afternoons and taught those +of the little girls whose legs were long enough how to use the sewing +machine. First they made a little pair of trousers out of an old gray +woolen skirt of Aunt Abigail's. This was for practice, before they cut +into the piece of new blue serge that the storekeeper had sent up. +Cousin Ann showed them how to pin the pattern on the goods and they each +cut out one piece. Those flat, queer-shaped pieces of cloth certainly +did look less like a pair of trousers to Betsy than anything she had +ever seen. Then one of the girls read aloud very slowly the +mysterious-sounding directions from the wrapper of the pattern about how +to put the pieces together, Cousin Ann helped here a little, +particularly just as they were about to put the sections together +wrong-side-up. Stashie, as the oldest, did the first basting, putting +the notches together carefully, just as they read the instructions +aloud, and there, all of a sudden, was a rough little sketch of a pair +of knee trousers, without any hem or any waist-band, of course, but just +the two-legged, complicated shape they ought to be! It was like a +miracle to Betsy! Then Cousin Ann helped them sew the seams on the +machine, and they all turned to for the basting of the facings and the +finishing. They each made one buttonhole. It was the first one Betsy had +ever made, and when she got through she was as tired as though she had +run all the way to school and back. Tired, but very proud; although when +Cousin Ann inspected that buttonhole, she covered her face with her +handkerchief for a minute, as though she were going to sneeze, although +she didn't sneeze at all. + +It took them two Saturdays to finish up that trial pair of trousers, and +when they showed the result to Aunt Abigail she was delighted. "Well, to +think of that being my old skirt!" she said, putting on her spectacles +to examine the work. She did not laugh, either, when she saw those +buttonholes, but she got up hastily and went into the next room, where +they soon heard her coughing. + +Then they made a little blouse out of some new blue gingham. Cousin Ann +happened to have enough left over from a dress she was making. This thin +material was ever so much easier to manage than the gray flannel, and +they had the little garment done in no time, even to the buttons and +buttonholes. When it came to making the buttonholes, Cousin Ann sat +right down with each one and supervised every stitch. You may not be +surprised to know that they were a great improvement over the first +batch. + +Then, making a great ceremony of it, they began on the store material, +working twice a week now, because May was slipping along very fast, and +Mr. Pond might be there at any time. They knew pretty well how to go +ahead on this one, after the experience of their first pair, and Cousin +Ann was not much needed, except as adviser in hard places. She sat there +in the room with them, doing some sewing of her own, so quiet that half +the time they forgot she was there. It was great fun, sewing all +together and chattering as they sewed. + +A good deal of the time they talked about how splendid it was of them to +be so kind to little 'Lias. "My! I don't believe most girls would put +themselves out this way for a dirty little boy!" said Stashie, +complacently. + +"No INDEED!" chimed in Betsy. "It's just like a story, isn't it--working +and sacrificing for the poor!" + +"I guess he'll thank us all right for sure!" said Ellen. "He'll never +forget us as long as he lives, I don't suppose." + +Betsy, her imagination fired by this suggestion, said, "I guess when +he's grown up he'll be telling everybody about how, when he was so poor +and ragged, Stashie Monahan and Ellen Peters and Elizabeth Ann ..." + +"And Eliza!" put in that little girl hastily, very much afraid she would +not be given her due share of the glory. + +Cousin Ann sewed, and listened, and said nothing. + +Toward the end of May two little blouses, two pairs of trousers, two +pairs of stockings, two sets of underwear (contributed by the teacher), +and the pair of shoes Uncle Henry gave were ready. The little girls +handled the pile of new garments with inexpressible pride, and debated +just which way of bestowing them was sufficiently grand to be worthy the +occasion. Betsy was for taking them to school and giving them to 'Lias +one by one, so that each child could have her thanks separately. But +Stashie wanted to take them to the house when 'Lias's stepfather would +be there, and shame him by showing that little girls had had to do what +he ought to have done. + +Cousin Ann broke into the discussion by asking, in her quiet, firm +voice, "Why do you want 'Lias to know where the clothes come from?" + +They had forgotten again that she was there, and turned around quickly +to stare at her. Nobody could think of any answer to her very queer +question. It had not occurred to any one that there could BE such a +question. + +Cousin Ann shifted her ground and asked another: "Why did you make these +clothes, anyhow?" + +They stared again, speechless. Why did she ask that? She knew why. + +Finally little Molly said, in her honest, baby way, "Why, YOU know why, +Miss Ann! So 'Lias Brewster will look nice, and Mr. Pond will maybe +adopt him." + +"Well," said Cousin Ann, "what has that got to do with 'Lias knowing who +did it?" + +"Why, he wouldn't know who to be grateful to," cried Betsy. + +"Oh," said Cousin Ann. "Oh, I see. You didn't do it to help 'Lias. You +did it to have him grateful to you. I see. Molly is such a little girl, +it's no wonder she didn't really take in what you girls were up to." She +nodded her head wisely, as though now she understood. + +But if she did, little Molly certainly did not. She had not the least +idea what everybody was talking about. She looked from one sober, +downcast face to another rather anxiously. What was the matter? + +Apparently nothing was really the matter, she decided, for after a +minute's silence Miss Ann got up with entirely her usual face of +cheerful gravity, and said: "Don't you think you little girls ought to +top off this last afternoon with a tea-party? There's a new batch of +cookies, and you can make yourselves some lemonade if you want to." + +They had these refreshments out on the porch, in the sunshine, with +their dolls for guests and a great deal of chatter for sauce. Nobody +said another word about how to give the clothes to 'Lias, till, just as +the girls were going away, Betsy said, walking along with the two older +ones, "Say, don't you think it'd be fun to go some evening after dark +and leave the clothes on 'Lias's doorstep, and knock and run away quick +before anybody comes to the door?" She spoke in an uncertain voice and +smoothed Deborah's carved wooden curls. + +"Yes, I do!" said Ellen, not looking at Betsy but down at the weeds by +the road. "I think it would be lots of fun!" + +Little Molly, playing with Annie and Eliza, did not hear this; but she +was allowed to go with the older girls on the great expedition. + +It was a warm, dark evening in late May, with the frogs piping their +sweet, high note, and the first of the fireflies wheeling over the wet +meadows near the tumble-down house where 'Lias lived. The girls took +turns in carrying the big paper-wrapped bundle, and stole along in the +shadow of the trees, full of excitement, looking over their shoulders at +nothing and pressing their hands over their mouths to keep back the +giggles. There was, of course, no reason on earth why they should +giggle, which is, of course, the very reason why they did. If you've +ever been a little girl you know about that. + +One window of the small house was dimly lighted, they found, when they +came in sight of it, and they thrilled with excitement and joyful alarm. +Suppose 'Lias's dreadful stepfather should come out and yell at them! +They came forward on tiptoe, making a great deal of noise by stepping on +twigs, rustling bushes, crackling gravel under their feet and doing all +the other things that make such a noise at night and never do in the +daytime. But nobody stirred inside the room with the lighted window. +They crept forward and peeped cautiously inside ... and stopped giggling. +The dim light coming from a little kerosene lamp with a smoky chimney +fell on a dismal, cluttered room, a bare, greasy wooden table, and two +broken-backed chairs, with little 'Lias in one of them. He had fallen +asleep with his head on his arms, his pinched, dirty, sad little figure +showing in the light from the lamp. His feet dangled high above the +floor in their broken, muddy shoes. One sleeve was torn to the shoulder. +A piece of dry bread had slipped from his bony little hand and a tin +dipper stood beside him on the bare table. Nobody else was in the room, +nor evidently in the darkened, empty, fireless house. + +[Illustration: He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms.] + +As long as she lives Betsy will never forget what she saw that night +through that window. Her eyes grew very hot and her hands very cold. Her +heart thumped hard. She reached for little Molly and gave her a great +hug in the darkness. Suppose it were little Molly asleep there, all +alone in the dirty, dismal house, with no supper and nobody to put her +to bed. She found that Ellen, next her, was crying quietly into the +corner of her apron. + +Nobody said a word. Stashie, who had the bundle, walked around soberly +to the front door, put it down, and knocked loudly. They all darted away +noiselessly to the road, to the shadow of the trees, and waited until +the door opened. A square of yellow light appeared, with 'Lias's figure, +very small, at the bottom of it. They saw him stoop and pick up the +bundle and go back into the house. Then they went quickly and silently +back, separating at the cross-roads with no good-night greetings. + +Molly and Betsy began to climb the hill to Putney Farm. It was a very +warm night for May, and little Molly began to puff for breath. "Let's +sit down on this rock awhile and rest," she said. + +They were half-way up the hill now. From the rock they could see the +lights in the farmhouses scattered along the valley road and on the side +of the mountain opposite them, like big stars fallen from the multitude +above. Betsy lay down on the rock and looked up at the stars. After a +silence little Molly's chirping voice said, "Oh, I thought you said we +were going to march up to 'Lias in school and give him his clothes. Did +you forget about that?" + +Betsy gave a wriggle of shame as she remembered that plan. "No, we +didn't forget it," she said. "We thought this would be a better way." + +"But how'll 'Lias know who to thank?" asked Molly. + +"That's no matter," said Betsy. Yes, it was Elizabeth-Ann-that-was who +said that. And meant it, too. She was not even thinking of what she was +saying. Between her and the stars, thick over her in the black, soft +sky, she saw again that dirty, disordered room and the little boy, all +alone, asleep with a piece of dry bread in his bony little fingers. + +She looked hard and long at that picture, all the time seeing the quiet +stars through it. And then she turned over and hid her face on the rock. +She had said her "Now I lay me" every night since she could remember, +but she had never prayed till she lay there with her face on the rock, +saying over and over, "Oh, God, please, please, PLEASE make Mr. Pond +adopt 'Lias." + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE NEW CLOTHES FAIL + +All the little girls went early to school the next day, eager for the +first glimpse of 'Lias in his new clothes. They now quite enjoyed the +mystery about who had made them, and were full of agreeable excitement +as the little figure was seen approaching down the road. He wore the +gray trousers and the little blue shirt; the trousers were a little too +long, the shirt a perfect fit. The girls gazed at him with pride as he +came on the playground, walking briskly along in the new shoes, which +were just the right size. He had been wearing all winter a pair of +cast-off women's shoes. From a distance he looked like another child. +But as he came closer ... oh! his face! his hair! his hands! his +finger-nails! The little fellow had evidently tried to live up to his +beautiful new raiment, for his hair had been roughly put back from his +face, and around his mouth and nose was a small area of almost clean +skin, where he had made an attempt at washing his face. But he had made +practically no impression on the layers of encrusted dirt, and the +little girls looked at him ruefully. Mr. Pond would certainly never take +a fancy to such a dreadfully grimy child! His new, clean clothes made +him look all the worse, as though dirty on purpose! + +The little girls retired to their rock-pile and talked over their bitter +disappointment, Ralph and the other boys absorbed in a game of marbles +near them. 'Lias had gone proudly into the schoolroom to show himself to +Miss Benton. + +It was the day before Decoration Day and a good deal of time was taken +up with practising on the recitations they were going to give at the +Decoration Day exercises in the village. Several of the children from +each school in the township were to speak pieces in the Town Hall. Betsy +was to recite BARBARA FRIETCHIE, her first love in that school, but she +droned it over with none of her usual pleasure, her eyes on little +'Lias's smiling face, so unconscious of its dinginess. + +At noon time the boys disappeared down toward the swimming-hole. They +often took a swim at noon and nobody thought anything about it on that +day. The little girls ate their lunch on their rock, mourning over the +failure of their plans, and scheming ways to meet the new obstacle. +Stashie suggested, "Couldn't your Aunt Abigail invite him up to your +house for supper and then give him a bath afterward?" But Betsy, +although she had never heard of treating a supper-guest in this way, was +sure that it was not possible. She shook her head sadly, her eyes on the +far-off gleam of white where the boys jumped up and down in their +swimming-hole. That was not a good name for it, because there was only +one part of it deep enough to swim in. Mostly it was a shallow bay in an +arm of the river, where the water was only up to a little boy's knees +and where there was almost no current. The sun beating down on it made +it quite warm, and even the first-graders' mothers allowed them to go +in. They only jumped up and down and squealed and splashed each other, +but they enjoyed that quite as much as Frank and Harry, the two +seventh-graders, enjoyed their swooping dives from the spring-board over +the pool. They were late in getting back from the river that day and +Miss Benton had to ring her bell hard in that direction before they came +trooping up and clattered into the schoolroom, where the girls already +sat, their eyes lowered virtuously to their books, with a prim air of +self-righteousness. THEY were never late! + +Betsy was reciting her arithmetic. She was getting on famously with +that. Weeks ago, as soon as Miss Benton had seen the confusion of the +little girl's mind, the two had settled down to a serious struggle with +that subject. Miss Benton had had Betsy recite all by herself, so she +wouldn't be flurried by the others; and to begin with had gone back, +back, back to bedrock, to things Betsy absolutely knew, to the 2x2's and +the 3x3's. And then, very cautiously, a step at a time, they had +advanced, stopping short whenever Betsy felt a beginning of that +bewildered "guessing" impulse which made her answer wildly at random. + +After a while, in the dark night which arithmetic had always been to +her, Betsy began to make out a few definite outlines, which were always +there, facts which she knew to be so without guessing from the +expression of her teacher's face. From that moment her progress had been +rapid, one sure fact hooking itself on to another, and another one on to +that. She attacked a page of problems now with a zest and +self-confidence which made her arithmetic lessons among the most +interesting hours at school. On that day she was standing up at the +board, a piece of chalk in her hand, chewing her tongue and thinking +hard how to find out the amount of wall-paper needed for a room 12 feet +square with two doors and two windows in it, when her eye fell on little +'Lias, bent over his reading book. She forgot her arithmetic, she forgot +where she was. She stared and stared, till Ellen, catching the direction +of her eyes, looked and stared too. Little 'Lias was CLEAN, +preternaturally, almost wetly clean. His face was clean and shining, his +ears shone pink and fair, his hands were absolutely spotless, even his +hay-colored hair was clean and, still damp, brushed flatly back till it +shone in the sun. Betsy blinked her eyes a great many times, thinking +she must be dreaming, but every time she opened them there was 'Lias, +looking white and polished like a new willow whistle. + +Somebody poked her hard in the ribs. She started and, turning, saw +Ralph, who was doing a sum beside her on the board, scowling at her +under his black brows. "Quit gawking at 'Lias," he said under his +breath. "You make me tired!" Something conscious and shame-faced in his +manner made Betsy understand at once what had happened. Ralph had taken +'Lias down to the little boys' wading-place and had washed him all over. +She remembered now that they had a piece of yellow soap there. + +Her face broke into a radiant smile and she began to say something to +Ralph about how nice that was of him, but he frowned again and said, +crossly, "Aw, cut it out! Look at what you've done there! If I couldn't +9 x 8 and get it right!" + +"How queer boys are!" thought Betsy, erasing her mistake and putting +down the right answer. But she did not try to speak to Ralph again about +'Lias, not even after school, when she saw 'Lias going home with a new +cap on his head which she recognized as Ralph's. She just looked at +Ralph's bare head, and smiled her eyes at him, keeping the rest of her +face sober, the way Cousin Ann did. For just a minute Ralph almost +smiled back. At least he looked quite friendly. They stepped along +toward home together, the first time Ralph had ever condescended to walk +beside a girl. + +"We got a new colt," he said. + +"Have you?" she said. "What color?" + +"Black, with a white star, and they're going to let me ride him when +he's old enough." + +"My! Won't that be nice!" said Betsy. + +And all the time they were both thinking of little 'Lias with his new +clothes and his sweet, thin face shining with cleanliness. + +"Do you like spruce gum?" asked Ralph. + +"Oh, I LOVE gum!" said Betsy. + +"Well, I'll bring you down a chunk tomorrow, if I don't forget it," said +Ralph, turning off at the cross-roads. + +They had not mentioned 'Lias at all. + +The next day they were to have school only in the morning. In the +afternoon they were to go in a big hay-wagon down to the village to the +"exercises." 'Lias came to school in his new blue-serge trousers and his +white blouse. The little girls gloated over his appearance, and hung +around him, for who was to "visit school" that morning but Mr. Pond +himself! Cousin Ann had arranged it somehow. It took Cousin Ann to fix +things! During recess, as they were playing still-pond-no-more-moving on +the playground, Mr. Pond and Uncle Henry drew up to the edge of the +playground, stopped their horse, and, talking and laughing together, +watched the children at play. Betsy looked hard at the big, burly, +kind-faced man with the smiling eyes and the hearty laugh, and decided +that he would "do" perfectly for 'Lias. But what she decided was to have +little importance, apparently, for after all he would not get out of the +wagon, but said he'd have to drive right on to the village. Just like +that, with no excuse other than a careless glance at his watch. No, he +guessed he wouldn't have time, this morning, he said. Betsy cast an +imploring look up into Uncle Henry's face, but evidently he felt himself +quite helpless, too. Oh, if only Cousin Ann had come! SHE would have +marched him into the schoolhouse double-quick. But Uncle Henry was not +Cousin Ann, and though Betsy saw him, as they drove away, +conscientiously point out little 'Lias, resplendent and shining, Mr. +Pond only nodded absently, as though, he were thinking of something +else. + +Betsy could have cried with disappointment; but she and the other girls, +putting their heads together for comfort, told each other that there was +time enough yet. Mr. Pond would not leave town till tomorrow. +Perhaps ... there was still some hope. + +But that afternoon even this last hope was dashed. As they gathered at +the schoolhouse, the girls fresh and crisp in their newly starched +dresses, with red or blue hair-ribbons, the boys very self-conscious in +their dark suits, clean collars, new caps (all but Ralph), and blacked +shoes, there was no little 'Lias. They waited and waited, but there was +no sign of him. Finally Uncle Henry, who was to drive the straw-ride +down to town, looked at his watch, gathered up the reins, and said they +would be late if they didn't start right away. Maybe 'Lias had had a +chance to ride in with somebody else. + +They all piled in, the horses stepped off, the wheels grated on the +stones. And just at that moment a dismal sound of sobbing wails reached +them from the woodshed back of the schoolhouse. The children tumbled out +as fast as they had tumbled in, and ran back, Betsy and Ralph at their +head. There in the woodshed was little 'Lias, huddled in the corner +behind some wood, crying and crying and crying, digging his fists into +his eyes, his face all smeared with tears and dirt. And he was dressed +again in his filthy, torn old overalls and ragged shirt. His poor little +bare feet shone with a piteous cleanliness in that dark place. + +"What's the matter? What's the matter?" the children asked him all at +once. He flung himself on Ralph, burying his face in the other boy's +coat, and sobbed out some disjointed story which only Ralph could +hear ... and then as last and final climax of the disaster, who should +come looking over the shoulders of the children but Uncle Henry AND Mr. +Pond! And 'Lias all ragged and dirty again! Betsy sat down weakly on a +pile of wood, utterly disheartened. What was the use of anything! + +"What's the matter?" asked the two men together. + +Ralph turned, with an angry toss of his dark head, and told them +bitterly, over the heads of the children: "He just had some decent +clothes. ... First ones he's EVER had! And he was plotting on going to +the exercises in the Town Hall. And that darned old skunk of a +stepfather has gone and taken 'em and sold 'em to get whiskey. I'd like +to KILL him!" + +Betsy could have flung her arms around Ralph, he looked so exactly the +way she felt. "Yes, he is a darned old skunk!" she said to herself, +rejoicing in the bad words she did not know before. It TOOK bad words to +qualify what had happened. + +She saw an electric spark pass from Ralph's blazing eyes to Mr. Pond's +broad face, now grim and fierce. She saw Mr. Pond step forward, brushing +the children out of his way, like a giant among dwarfs. She saw him +stoop and pick little 'Lias up in his great, strong arms, and, holding +him close, stride furiously out of the woodshed, across the playground +to the buggy which was waiting for him. + +"He'll go to the exercises all right!" he called back over his shoulder +in a great roar. "He'll go, if I have to buy out the whole town to get +him an outfit! And that whelp won't get these clothes, either; you hear +me say so!" + +He sprang into the buggy and, holding 'Lias on his lap, took up the +reins and drove rapidly forward. + +They saw little 'Lias again, entering the Town Hall, holding fast to Mr. +Pond's hand. He was magnificent in a whole suit of store clothes, coat +and all, and he wore white stockings and neat, low shoes, like a city +child! + +They saw him later, up on the platform, squeaking out his little +patriotic poem, his eyes, shining like stars, fixed on one broad, +smiling face in the audience. When he finished he was overcome with +shyness by the applause, and for a moment forgot to turn and leave the +platform. He hung his head, and, looking out from under his eyebrows, +gave a quaint, shy little smile at the audience. Betsy saw Mr. Pond's +great smile waver and grow dim. His eyes filled so full that he had to +take out his handkerchief and blow his nose loudly. + +And they saw little 'Lias once more, for the last time. Mr. Pond's buggy +drove rapidly past their slow-moving hay-wagon, Mr. Pond holding the +reins masterfully in one hand. Beside him, very close, sat 'Lias with +his lap full of toys, oh, FULL--like Christmas! In that fleeting glimpse +they saw a toy train, a stuffed dog, a candy-box, a pile of +picture-books, tops, paper-bags, and even the swinging crane of the big +mechanical toy dredge that everybody said the storekeeper could never +sell to anybody because it cost so much! + +As they passed swiftly, 'Lias looked out at them and waved his little +hand flutteringly. His other hand was tightly clasped in Mr. Pond's big +one. He was smiling at them all. His eyes looked dazed and radiant. He +turned his head as the buggy flashed by to call out, in a shrill, +exulting little shout, "Good-bye! Good-bye! I'm going to live with ..." +They could hear no more. He was gone, only his little hand still waving +at them over the back of the buggy seat. + +Betsy drew a long, long breath. She found that Ralph was looking at her. +For a moment she couldn't think what made him look so different. Then +she saw that he was smiling. She had never seen him smile before. He +smiled at her as though he were sure she would understand, and never +said a word. Betsy looked forward again and saw the gleaming buggy +vanishing over the hill in front of them. She smiled back at Ralph +silently. + +Not a thing had happened the way she had planned; no, not a single +thing! But it seemed to her she had never been so happy in her life. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BETSY HAS A BIRTHDAY + +Betsy's birthday was the ninth day of September, and the Necronsett +Valley Fair is always held from the eighth to the twelfth. So it was +decided that Betsy should celebrate her birthday by going up to +Woodford, where the Fair was held. The Putneys weren't going that year, +but the people on the next farm, the Wendells, said they could make room +in their surrey for the two little girls; for, of course, Molly was +going, too. In fact, she said the Fair was held partly to celebrate her +being six years old. This would happen on the seventeenth of October. +Molly insisted that that was PLENTY close enough to the ninth of +September to be celebrated then. This made Betsy feel like laughing out, +but observing that the Putneys only looked at each other with the +faintest possible quirk in the corners of their serious mouths, she +understood that they were afraid that Molly's feelings might be hurt if +they laughed out loud. So Betsy tried to curve her young lips to the +same kind and secret mirth. + +And, I can't tell you why, this effort not to hurt Molly's feelings made +her have a perfect spasm of love for Molly. She threw herself on her and +gave her a great hug that tipped them both over on the couch on top of +Shep, who stopped snoring with his great gurgling snort, wriggled out +from under them, and stood with laughing eyes and wagging tail, looking +at them as they rolled and giggled among the pillows. + +"What dress are you going to wear to the Fair, Betsy?" asked Cousin Ann. +"And we must decide about Molly's, too." + +This stopped their rough-and-tumble fun in short order, and they applied +themselves to the serious question of a toilet. + +When the great day arrived and the surrey drove away from the Wendells' +gate, Betsy was in a fresh pink-and-white gingham which she had helped +Cousin Ann make, and plump Molly looked like something good to eat in a +crisp white little dimity, one of Betsy's old dresses, with a deep hem +taken in to make it short enough for the little butter-ball. Because it +was Betsy's birthday, she sat on the front seat with Mr. Wendell, and +part of the time, when there were not too many teams on the road, she +drove, herself. Mrs. Wendell and her sister filled the back seat solidly +full from side to side and made one continuous soft lap on which Molly +happily perched, her eyes shining, her round cheeks red with joyful +excitement. Betsy looked back at her several times and thought how very +nice Molly looked. She had, of course, little idea how she herself +looked, because the mirrors at Putney Farm were all small and high up, +and anyhow they were so old and greenish that they made everybody look +very queer-colored. You looked in them to see if your hair was smooth, +and that was about all you could stand. + +So it was a great surprise to Betsy later in the morning, as she and +Molly wandered hand in hand through the wonders of Industrial Hall, to +catch sight of Molly in a full-length mirror as clear as water. She was +almost startled to see how faithfully reflected were the yellow of the +little girl's curls, the clear pink and white of her face, and the blue +of her soft eyes. An older girl was reflected there also, near Molly, a +dark-eyed, red-cheeked, sturdy little girl, standing very straight on +two strong legs, holding her head high and free, her dark eyes looking +out brightly from her tanned face. For an instant Betsy gazed into those +clear eyes and then ... why, gracious goodness! That was herself she was +looking at! How changed she was! How very, very different she looked +from the last time she had seen herself in a big mirror! She remembered +it well--out shopping with Aunt Frances in a department store, she had +caught sight of a pale little girl, with a thin neck, and spindling legs +half-hidden in the folds of Aunt Frances's skirts. But she didn't look +even like the sister of this browned, muscular, upstanding child who +held Molly's hand so firmly. + +All this came into her mind and went out again in a moment, for Molly +caught sight of a big doll in the next aisle and they hurried over to +inspect her clothing. The mirror was forgotten in the many exciting +sights and sounds and smells of their first county fair. + +The two little girls were to wander about as they pleased until noon, +when they were to meet the Wendells in the shadow of Industrial Hall and +eat their picnic lunch together. The two parties arrived together from +different directions, having seen very different sides of the Fair. The +children were full of the merry-go-rounds, the balloon-seller, the +toy-venders, and the pop-corn stands, while the Wendells exchanged views +on the shortness of a hog's legs, the dip in a cow's back, and the +thickness of a sheep's wool. The Wendells, it seemed, had met some +cousins they didn't expect to see, who, not knowing about Betsy and +Molly, had hoped that they might ride home with the Wendells. + +"Don't you suppose," Mrs. Wendell asked Betsy, "that you and Molly could +go home with the Vaughans? They're here in their big wagon. You could +sit on the floor with the Vaughan children." + +Betsy and Molly thought this would be great fun, and agreed +enthusiastically. + +"All right then," said Mrs. Wendell. She called to a young man who stood +inside the building, near an open window: "Oh, Frank, Will Vaughan is +going to be in your booth this afternoon, isn't he?" + +"Yes, ma'am," said the young man. "His turn is from two to four." + +"Well, you tell him, will you, that the two little girls who live at +Putney Farm are going to go home with them. They can sit on the bottom +of the wagon with the Vaughan young ones." + +"Yes, ma'am," said the young man, with a noticeable lack of interest in +how Betsy and Molly got home. + +"Now, Betsy," said Mrs. Wendell, "you go round to that booth at two and +ask Will Vaughan what time they're going to start and where their wagon +is, and then you be sure not to keep them waiting a minute." + +"No, I won't," said Betsy. "I'll be sure to be there on time." + +She and Molly still had twenty cents to spend out of the forty they had +brought with them, twenty-five earned by berry-picking and fifteen a +present from Uncle Henry. They now put their heads together to see how +they could make the best possible use of their four nickels. Cousin Ann +had put no restrictions whatever on them, saying they could buy any sort +of truck or rubbish they could find, except the pink lemonade. She said +she had been told the venders washed their glasses in that, and their +hands, and for all she knew their faces. Betsy was for merry-go-rounds, +but Molly yearned for a big red balloon; and while they were buying that +a man came by with toy dogs, little brown dogs with curled-wire tails. +He called out that they would bark when you pulled their tails, and +seeing the little girls looking at him he pulled the tail of the one he +held. It gave forth a fine loud yelp, just like Shep when his tail got +stepped on. Betsy bought one, all done up neatly in a box tied with blue +string. She thought it a great bargain to get a dog who would bark for +five cents. (Later on, when they undid the string and opened the box, +they found the dog had one leg broken off and wouldn't make the faintest +squeak when his tail was pulled; but that is the sort of thing you must +expect to have happen to you at a county fair.) + +Now they had ten cents left and they decided to have a ride apiece on +the merry-go-round. But, glancing up at the clock-face in the tower over +Agricultural Hall, Betsy noticed it was half-past two and she decided to +go first to the booth where Will Vaughan was to be and find out what +time they would start for home. She found the booth with no difficulty, +but William Vaughan was not in it. Nor was the young man she had seen +before. There was a new one, a strange one, a careless, whistling young +man, with very bright socks, very yellow shoes, and very striped cuffs. +He said, in answer to Betsy's inquiry: "Vaughan? Will Vaughan? Never +heard the name," and immediately went on whistling and looking up and +down the aisle over the heads of the little girls, who stood gazing up +at him with very wide, startled eyes. An older man leaned over from the +next booth and said: "Will Vaughan? He from Hillsboro? Well, I heard +somebody say those Hillsboro Vaughans had word one of their cows was +awful sick, and they had to start right home that minute." + +Betsy came to herself out of her momentary daze and snatched Molly's +hand. "Hurry! quick! We must find the Wendells before they get away!" In +her agitation (for she was really very much frightened) she forgot how +easily terrified little Molly was. Her alarm instantly sent the child +into a panic. "Oh, Betsy! Betsy! What will we do!" she gasped, as Betsy +pulled her along the aisle and out of the door. + +"Oh, the Wendells can't be gone yet," said Betsy reassuringly, though +she was not at all sure she was telling the truth. She ran as fast as +she could drag Molly's fat legs, to the horse-shed where Mr. Wendell had +tied his horses and left the surrey. The horse-shed was empty, quite +empty. + +Betsy stopped short and stood still, her heart seeming to be up in her +throat so that she could hardly breathe. After all, she was only ten +that day, you must remember. Molly began to cry loudly, hiding her +weeping face in Betsy's dress. "What will we do, Betsy! What can we DO!" +she wailed. + +Betsy did not answer. She did not know what they WOULD do! They were +eight miles from Putney Farm, far too much for Molly to walk, and anyhow +neither of them knew the way. They had only ten cents left, and nothing +to eat. And the only people they knew in all that throng of strangers +had gone back to Hillsboro. + +"What will we do, Betsy?" Molly kept on crying out, horrified by Betsy's +silence and evident consternation. + +The other child's head swam. She tried again the formula which had +helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself, +desperately, "What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!" But that did +not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what +Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances. Yes, one thing +Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first +of all. + +At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken +little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly, +"Now, Molly, stop crying this minute. I'll take care of you, of course. +I'll get you home all right." + +"How'll you ever do it?" sobbed Molly. + +"Everybody's gone and left us. We can't walk!" + +"Never you mind how," said Betsy, trying to be facetious and +mock-mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little. +"That's my surprise party for you. Just you wait. Now come on back to +that booth. Maybe Will Vaughan didn't go home with his folks." + +She had very little hope of this, and only went back there because it +seemed to her a little less dauntingly strange than every other spot in +the howling wilderness about her; for all at once the Fair, which had +seemed so lively and cheerful and gay before, seemed now a horrible, +frightening, noisy place, full of hurried strangers who came and went +their own ways, with not a glance out of their hard eyes for two little +girls stranded far from home. + +The bright-colored young man was no better when they found him again. He +stopped his whistling only long enough to say, "Nope, no Will Vaughan +anywhere around these diggings yet." + +"We were going home with the Vaughans," murmured Betsy, in a low tone, +hoping for some help from him. + +"Looks as though you'd better go home on the cars," advised the young +man casually. He smoothed his black hair back straighter than ever from +his forehead and looked over their heads. + +"How much does it cost to go to Hillsboro on the cars?" asked Betsy with +a sinking heart. + +"You'll have to ask somebody else about that," said the young man. "What +I don't know about this Rube state! I never was in it before." He spoke +as though he were very proud of the fact. + +Betsy turned and went over to the older man who had told them about the +Vaughans. + +Molly trotted at her heels, quite comforted, now that Betsy was talking +so competently to grown-ups. She did not hear what they said, nor try +to. Now that Betsy's voice sounded all right she had no more fears. +Betsy would manage somehow. She heard Betsy's voice again talking to the +other man, but she was busy looking at an exhibit of beautiful jelly +glasses, and paid no attention. Then Betsy led her away again out of +doors, where everybody was walking back and forth under the bright +September sky, blowing on horns, waving plumes of brilliant +tissue-paper, tickling each other with peacock feathers, and eating +pop-corn and candy out of paper bags. + +That reminded Molly that they had ten cents yet. "Oh, Betsy," she +proposed, "let's take a nickel of our money for some pop-corn." + +She was startled by Betsy's fierce sudden clutch at their little purse +and by the quaver in her voice as she answered: "No, no, Molly. We've +got to save every cent of that. I've found out it costs thirty cents for +us both to go home to Hillsboro on the train. The last one goes at six +o'clock." + +"We haven't got but ten," said Molly. + +Betsy looked at her silently for a moment and then burst out, "I'll earn +the rest! I'll earn it somehow! I'll have to! There isn't any other +way!" + +"All right," said Molly quaintly, not seeing anything unusual in this. +"You can, if you want to. I'll wait for you here." + +"No, you won't!" cried Betsy, who had quite enough of trying to meet +people in a crowd. "No, you won't! You just follow me every minute! I +don't want you out of my sight!" + +They began to move forward now, Betsy's eyes wildly roving from one +place to another. How COULD a little girl earn money at a county fair! +She was horribly afraid to go up and speak to a stranger, and yet how +else could she begin? + +"Here, Molly, you wait here," she said. "Don't you budge till I come +back." + +But alas! Molly had only a moment to wait that time, for the man who was +selling lemonade answered Betsy's shy question with a stare and a curt, +"Lord, no! What could a young one like you do for me?" + +The little girls wandered on, Molly calm and expectant, confident in +Betsy; Betsy with a very dry mouth and a very gone feeling. They were +passing by a big shed-like building now, where a large sign proclaimed +that the Woodford Ladies' Aid Society would serve a hot chicken dinner +for thirty-five cents. Of course the sign was not accurate, for at +half-past three, almost four, the chicken dinner had long ago been all +eaten and in place of the diners was a group of weary women moving +languidly about or standing saggingly by a great table piled with dirty +dishes. Betsy paused here, meditated a moment, and went in rapidly so +that her courage would not evaporate. + +The woman with gray hair looked down at her a little impatiently and +said, "Dinner's all over." + +"I didn't come for dinner," said Betsy, swallowing hard. "I came to see +if you wouldn't hire me to wash your dishes. I'll do them for +twenty-five cents." + +The woman laughed, looked from little Betsy to the great pile of dishes, +and said, turning away, "Mercy, child, if you washed from now till +morning, you wouldn't make a hole in what we've got to do." + +Betsy heard her say to the other women, "Some young one wanting more +money for the side-shows." + +Now, now was the moment to remember what Cousin Ann would have done. She +would certainly not have shaken all over with hurt feelings nor have +allowed the tears to come stingingly to her eyes. So Betsy sternly made +herself stop doing these things. And Cousin Ann wouldn't have given way +to the dreadful sinking feeling of utter discouragement, but would have +gone right on to the next place. So, although Betsy felt like nothing so +much as crooking her elbow over her face and crying as hard as she could +cry, she stiffened her back, took Molly's hand again, and stepped out, +heart-sick within but very steady (although rather pale) without. + +She and Molly walked along in the crowd again, Molly laughing and +pointing out the pranks and antics of the young people, who were feeling +livelier than ever as the afternoon wore on. Betsy looked at them grimly +with unseeing eyes. It was four o'clock. The last train for Hillsboro +left in two hours and she was no nearer having the price of the tickets. +She stopped for a moment to get her breath; for, although they were +walking slowly, she kept feeling breathless and choked. It occurred to +her that if ever a little girl had had a more horrible birthday she +never heard of one! + +"Oh, I wish I could, Dan!" said a young voice near her. "But honest! +Momma'd just eat me up alive if I left the booth for a minute!" + +Betsy turned quickly. A very pretty girl with yellow hair and blue eyes +(she looked as Molly might when she was grown up) was leaning over the +edge of a little canvas-covered booth, the sign of which announced that +home-made doughnuts and soft drinks were for sale there. A young man, +very flushed and gay, was pulling at the girl's blue gingham sleeve. +"Oh, come on, Annie. Just one turn! The floor's elegant. You can keep an +eye on the booth from the hall! Nobody's going to run away with the old +thing anyhow!'' + +"Honest, I'd love to! But I got a great lot of dishes to wash, too! You +know Momma!" She looked longingly toward the open-air dancing floor, out +from which just then floated a burst of brazen music. + +"Oh, PLEASE!" said a small voice. "I'll do it for twenty cents." + +Betsy stood by the girl's elbow, all quivering earnestness. + +"Do what, kiddie?" asked the girl in a good-natured surprise. + +"Everything!" said Betsy, compendiously. "Everything! Wash the dishes, +tend the booth; YOU can go dance! I'll do it for twenty cents." + +The eyes of the girl and the man met in high amusement. "My! Aren't we +up and coming!" said the man. "You're most as big as a pint-cup, aren't +you?" he said to Betsy. + +The little girl flushed--she detested being laughed at--but she looked +straight into the laughing eyes. "I'm ten years old today," she said, +"and I can wash dishes as well as anybody." She spoke with dignity. + +The young man burst out into a great laugh. + +"Great kid, what!" he said to the girl, and then, "Say, Annie, why not? +Your mother won't be here for an hour. The kid can keep folks from +walking off with the dope and ..." + +"I'll do the dishes, too," repeated Betsy, trying hard not to mind being +laughed at, and keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the tickets to +Hillsboro. + +"Well, by gosh," said the young man, laughing. "Here's our chance, +Annie, for fair! Come along!" + +The girl laughed, too, out of high spirits. "Wouldn't Momma be crazy!" +she said hilariously. "But she'll never know. Here, you cute kid, here's +my apron." She took off her long apron and tied it around Betsy's neck. +"There's the soap, there's the table. You stack the dishes up on that +counter." + +She was out of the little gate in the counter in a twinkling, just as +Molly, in answer to a beckoning gesture from Betsy, came in. "Hello, +there's another one!" said the gay young man, gayer and gayer. "Hello, +button! What you going to do? I suppose when they try to crack the safe +you'll run at them and bark and drive them away!" + +Molly opened her sweet, blue eyes very wide, not understanding a single +word. The girl laughed, swooped back, gave Molly a kiss, and +disappeared, running side by side with the young man toward the dance +hall. + +Betsy mounted on a soap box and began joyfully to wash the dishes. She +had never thought that ever in her life would she simply LOVE to wash +dishes beyond anything else! But it was so. Her relief was so great that +she could have kissed the coarse, thick plates and glasses as she washed +them. + +"It's all right, Molly; it's all right!" she quavered exultantly to +Molly over her shoulder. But as Molly had not (from the moment Betsy +took command) suspected that it was not all right, she only nodded and +asked if she might sit up on a barrel where she could watch the crowd go +by. + +"I guess you could. I don't know why NOT," said Betsy doubtfully. She +lifted her up and went back to her dishes. Never were dishes washed +better! + +"Two doughnuts, please," said a man's voice behind her. + +Oh, mercy, there was somebody come to buy! Whatever should she do? She +came forward intending to say that the owner of the booth was away and +she didn't know anything about ... but the man laid down a nickel, took +two doughnuts, and turned away. Betsy gasped and looked at the home-made +sign stuck into the big pan of doughnuts. Sure enough, it read "2 for +5." She put the nickel up on a shelf and went back to her dishwashing. +Selling things wasn't so hard, she reflected. + +As her hunted feeling of desperation relaxed she began to find some fun +in her new situation, and when a woman with two little boys approached +she came forward to wait on her, elated, important. "Two for five," she +said in a businesslike tone. The woman put down a dime, took up four +doughnuts, divided them between her sons, and departed. + +[Illustration: Never were dishes washed better!] + +"My!" said Molly, looking admiringly at Betsy's coolness over this +transaction. Betsy went back to her dishes, stepping high. + +"Oh, Betsy, see! The pig! The big ox!" cried Molly now, looking from her +coign of vantage down the wide, grass-grown lane between the booths. + +Betsy craned her head around over her shoulder, continuing +conscientiously to wash and wipe the dishes. The prize stock was being +paraded around the Fair; the great prize ox, his shining horns tipped +with blue rosettes; the prize cows, with wreaths around their necks; the +prize horses, four or five of them as glossy as satin, curving their +bright, strong necks and stepping as though on eggs, their manes and +tails braided with bright ribbon; and then, "Oh, Betsy, LOOK at the +pig!" screamed Molly again--the smaller animals, the sheep, the calves, +the colts, and the pig, which waddled along with portly dignity. + +Betsy looked as well as she could over her shoulder ... and in years to +come she can shut her eyes and see again in every detail that rustic +procession under the golden, September light. + +But she looked anxiously at the clock. It was nearing five. Oh, suppose +the girl forgot and danced too long! + +"Two bottles of ginger ale and half a dozen doughnuts," said a man with +a woman and three children. + +Betsy looked feverishly among the bottles ranged on the counter, +selected two marked ginger ale, and glared at their corrugated tin +stoppers. How DID you get them open? + +"Here's your opener," said the man, "if that's what you're looking for. +Here, you get the glasses and I'll open the bottles. We're in kind of a +hurry. Got to catch a train." + +Well, they were not the only people who had to catch a train, Betsy +thought sadly. They drank in gulps and departed, cramming doughnuts into +their mouths. Betsy wished ardently that the girl would come back. She +was now almost sure that she had forgotten and would dance there till +nightfall. But there, there she came, running along, as light-footed +after an hour's dancing as when she had left the booth. + +"Here you are, kid," said the young man, producing a quarter. "We've had +the time of our young lives, thanks to you." + +Betsy gave him back one of the nickels that remained to her, but he +refused it. + +"No, keep the change," he said royally. "It was worth it." + +"Then I'll buy two doughnuts with my extra nickel," said Betsy. + +"No, you won't," said the girl. "You'll take all you want for nothing ... +Momma'll never miss 'em. And what you sell here has got to be fresh +every day. Here, hold out your hands, both of you." + +"Some people came and bought things," said Betsy, happening to remember +as she and Molly turned away. "The money is on that shelf." + +"Well, NOW!" said the girl, "if she didn't take hold and sell things! +Say ... "--she ran after Betsy and gave her a hug--"you smart young one, +I wish't I had a little sister just like you!" + +Molly and Betsy hurried along out of the gate into the main street of +the town and down to the station. Molly was eating doughnuts as she +went. They were both quite hungry by this time, but Betsy could not +think of eating till she had those tickets in her hand. + +She pushed her quarter and a nickel into the ticket-seller's window and +said "Hillsboro" in as confident a tone as she could; but when the +precious bits of paper were pushed out at her and she actually held +them, her knees shook under her and she had to go and sit down on the +bench. + +"My! Aren't these doughnuts good?" said Molly. "I never in my life had +ENOUGH doughnuts before!" + +Betsy drew a long breath and began rather languidly to eat one herself; +she felt, all of a sudden, very, very tired. + +She was tireder still when they got out of the train at Hillsboro +Station and started wearily up the road toward Putney Farm. Two miles +lay before them, two miles which they had often walked before, but never +after such a day as now lay back of them. Molly dragged her feet as she +walked and hung heavily on Betsy's hand. Betsy plodded along, her head +hanging, her eyes all gritty with fatigue and sleepiness. A light buggy +spun round the turn of the road behind them, the single horse trotting +fast as though the driver were in a hurry, the wheels rattling smartly +on the hard road. The little girls drew out to one side and stood +waiting till the road should be free again. When he saw them the driver +pulled the horse back so quickly it stood almost straight up. He peered +at them through the twilight and then with a loud shout sprang over the +side of the buggy. + +It was Uncle Henry--oh, goody, it was Uncle Henry come to meet them! +They wouldn't have to walk any further! + +But what was the matter with Uncle Henry? He ran up to them, exclaiming, +"Are ye all right? Are ye all right?" He stooped over and felt of them +desperately as though he expected them to be broken somewhere. And Betsy +could feel that his old hands were shaking, that he was trembling all +over. When she said, "Why, yes, Uncle Henry, we're all right. We came +home on the cars," Uncle Henry leaned up against the fence as though he +couldn't stand up. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead and he +said--it didn't seem as though it could be Uncle Henry talking, he +sounded so excited--"Well, well--well, by gosh! My! Well, by thunder! +Now! And so here ye are! And you're all right! WELL!" + +He couldn't seem to stop exclaiming, and you can't imagine anything +stranger than an Uncle Henry who couldn't stop exclaiming. + +After they all got into the buggy he quieted down a little and said, +"Thunderation! But we've had a scare! When the Wendells come back with +their cousins early this afternoon, they said you were coming with the +Vaughans. And then when you didn't come and DIDN'T come, we telephoned +to the Vaughans, and they said they hadn't seen hide nor hair of ye, and +didn't even know you were TO the Fair at all! I tell you, your Aunt +Abigail and I had an awful turn! Ann and I hitched up quicker'n scat and +she put right out with Prince up toward Woodford and I took Jessie down +this way; thought maybe I'd get trace of ye somewhere here. Well, land!" +He wiped his forehead again. "Wa'n't I glad to see you standin' +there ... get along, Jess! I want to get the news to Abigail soon as I +can!" + +"Now tell me what in thunder DID happen to you!" + +Betsy began at the beginning and told straight through, interrupted at +first by indignant comments from Uncle Henry, who was outraged by the +Wendells' loose wearing of their responsibility for the children. But as +she went on he quieted down to a closely attentive silence, interrupting +only to keep Jess at her top speed. + +Now that it was all safely over, Betsy thought her story quite an +interesting one, and she omitted no detail, although she wondered once +or twice if perhaps Uncle Henry were listening to her, he kept so still. +"And so I bought the tickets and we got home," she ended, adding, "Oh, +Uncle Henry, you ought to have seen the prize pig! He was TOO funny!" + +They turned into the Putney yard now and saw Aunt Abigail's bulky form +on the porch. + +"Got 'em, Abby! All right! No harm done!" shouted Uncle Henry. + +Aunt Abigail turned without a word and went back into the house. When +the little girls dragged their weary legs in they found her quietly +setting out some supper for them on the table, but she was wiping away +with her apron the joyful tears which ran down her cheeks, such white +cheeks! It seemed so strange to see rosy Aunt Abigail with a face like +paper. + +"Well, I'm glad to see ye," she told them soberly. "Sit right down and +have some hot milk. I had some all ready." + +The telephone rang, she went into the next room, and they heard her +saying, in an unsteady voice: "All right, Ann. They're here. Your father +just brought them in. I haven't had time to hear about what happened +yet. But they're all right. You'd better come home." + +"That's your Cousin Ann telephoning from the Marshalls'." + +She herself went and sat down heavily, and when Uncle Henry came in a +few minutes later she asked him in a rather weak voice for the ammonia +bottle. He rushed for it, got her a fan and a drink of cold water, and +hung over her anxiously till the color began to come back into her pale +face. "I know just how you feel, Mother," he said sympathetically. "When +I saw 'em standin' there by the roadside I felt as though somebody had +hit me a clip right in the pit of the stomach." + +The little girls ate their supper in a tired daze, not paying any +attention to what the grown-ups were saying, until rapid hoofs clicked +on the stones outside and Cousin Ann came in quickly, her black eyes +snapping. + +"Now, for mercy's sake, tell me what happened," she said, adding hotly, +"and if I don't give that Maria Wendell a piece of my mind!" + +Uncle Henry broke in: "_I_'M going to tell what happened. I WANT to do +it. You and Mother just listen, just sit right down and listen." His +voice was shaking with feeling, and as he went on and told of Betsy's +afternoon, her fright, her confusion, her forming the plan of coming +home on the train and of earning the money for the tickets, he made, for +once, no Putney pretense of casual coolness. His old eyes flashed fire +as he talked. + +Betsy, watching him, felt her heart swell and beat fast in incredulous +joy. Why, he was proud of her! She had done something to make the Putney +cousins proud of her! + +When Uncle Henry came to the part where she went on asking for +employment after one and then another refusal, Cousin Ann reached out +her long arms and quickly, almost roughly, gathered Betsy up on her lap, +holding her close as she listened. Betsy had never before sat on Cousin +Ann's lap. + +And when Uncle Henry finished--he had not forgotten a single thing Betsy +had told him--and asked, "What do you think of THAT for a little girl +ten years old today?" Cousin Ann opened the flood-gates wide and burst +out, "I think I never heard of a child's doing a smarter, grittier +thing ... AND I DON'T CARE IF SHE DOES HEAR ME SAY SO!" + +It was a great, a momentous, an historic moment! + +Betsy, enthroned on those strong knees, wondered if any little girl had +ever had such a beautiful birthday. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"UNDERSTOOD AUNT FRANCES" + +About a month, after Betsy's birthday, one October day when the leaves +were all red and yellow, two very momentous events occurred, and, in a +manner of speaking, at the very same time. Betsy had noticed that her +kitten Eleanor (she still thought of her as a kitten, although she was +now a big, grown-up cat) spent very little time around the house. She +came into the kitchen two or three times a day, mewing loudly for milk +and food, but after eating very fast she always disappeared at once. +Betsy missed the purring, contented ball of fur on her lap in the long +evenings as she played checkers, or read aloud, or sewed, or played +guessing games. She felt rather hurt, too, that Eleanor paid her so +little attention, and several times she tried hard to make her stay, +trailing in front of her a spool tied to a string or rolling a worsted +ball across the floor. But Eleanor seemed to have lost all her taste for +the things she had liked so much. Invariably, the moment the door was +opened, she darted out and vanished. + +One afternoon Betsy ran out after her, determined to catch her and bring +her back. When the cat found she was being followed, she bounded along +in great leaps, constantly escaping from Betsy's outstretched hand. They +came thus to the horse-barn, into the open door of which Eleanor whisked +like a little gray shadow, Betsy close behind. The cat flashed up the +steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the hay-loft. Betsy scrambled +rapidly up, too. It was dark up there, compared to the gorgeous-colored +October day outside, and for a moment she could not see Eleanor. Then +she made her out, a dim little shape, picking her way over the hay, and +she heard her talking. Yes, it was real talk, quite, quite different +from the loud, imperious "MIAUW!" with which Eleanor asked for her milk. +This was the softest, prettiest kind of conversation, all little murmurs +and chirps and sing-songs. Why, Betsy could almost understand it! She +COULD understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then, +breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-like +cries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward and +disappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over the +hay as fast as she could go. + +It was all silent now--the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped as +suddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purring +so loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud and +happy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she arched +her back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy's +astounded, delighted eyes--no, she wasn't dreaming--two dear little +kittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib on +his chest. + +Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy put +her fingers very softly on the gray one's head and thrilled to feel the +warmth of the little living creature. "Oh, Eleanor!" she asked eagerly. +"CAN I pick one up?" She lifted the gray one gently and held it up to +her cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand. +She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into her +palm. "Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!" she said over +and over in a whisper. + +Eleanor did not stop purring, and she looked up with friendly, trusting +eyes as her little mistress made the acquaintance of her children, but +Betsy could feel somehow that Eleanor was anxious about her kitten, was +afraid that, although the little girl meant everything that was kind, +her great, clumsy, awkward human hands weren't clever enough to hold a +baby-cat the proper way. "I don't blame you a bit, Eleanor," said Betsy. +"I should feel just so in your place. There! I won't touch it again!" +She laid the kitten down carefully by its mother. Eleanor at once began +to wash its face very vigorously, knocking it over and over with her +strong tongue. "My!" said Betsy, laughing. "You'd scratch my eyes out, +if _I_ were as rough as that!" + +Eleanor didn't seem to hear. Or rather she seemed to hear something +else. For she stopped short, her head lifted, her ears pricked up, +listening very hard to some distant sound. Then Betsy heard it, too, +somebody coming into the barn below, little, quick, uneven footsteps. It +must be little Molly, tagging along, as she always did. What fun to show +Molly the kittens! + +"Betsy!" called Molly from below. + +"Molly!" called Betsy from above. "Come up here quick! I've got +something up here." + +There was a sound of scrambling, rapid feet on the rough stairs, and +Molly's yellow curls appeared, shining in the dusk. "I've got a ..." she +began, but Betsy did not let her finish. + +"Come here, Molly, quick! QUICK!" she called, beckoning eagerly, as +though the kittens might evaporate into thin air if Molly didn't get +there at once. Molly forgot what she was going to say, climbed madly up +the steep pile of hay, and in a moment was lying flat on her stomach +beside the little family in a spasm of delight that satisfied even Betsy +and Eleanor, both of them convinced that these were the finest kittens +the world had ever seen. + +"See, there are two," said Betsy. "You can have one for your very own. +And I'll let you choose. Which one do you like best?" + +She was hoping that Molly would not take the little all-gray one, +because she had fallen in love with that the minute she saw it. + +"Oh, THIS one with the white on his breast," said Molly, without a +moment's hesitation. "It's LOTS the prettiest! Oh, Betsy! For my very +own?" + +Something white fell out of the folds of her skirt on the hay. "Oh, +yes," she said indifferently. "A letter for you. Miss Ann told me to +bring it out here. She said she saw you streaking it for the barn." + +It was a letter from Aunt Frances. Betsy opened it, one eye on Molly to +see that she did not hug her new darling too tightly, and began to read +it in the ray of dusty sunlight slanting in through a crack in the side +of the barn. She could do this easily, because Aunt Frances always made +her handwriting very large and round and clear, so that a little girl +could read it without half trying. + +And as she read, everything faded away from before her ... the barn, +Molly, the kittens ... she saw nothing but the words on the page. + +When she had read the letter through she got up quickly, oh ever so +quickly! and went away down the stairs. Molly hardly noticed she had +gone, so absorbing and delightful were the kittens. + +Betsy went out of the dusky barn into the rich, October splendor and saw +none of it. She went straight away from the house and the barn, straight +up into the hill-pasture toward her favorite place beside the brook, the +shady pool under the big maple-tree. At first she walked, but after a +while she ran, faster and faster, as though she could not get there soon +enough. Her head was down, and one arm was crooked over her face.... + +And do you know, I'm not going to follow her up there, nor let you go. +I'm afraid we would all cry if we saw what Betsy did under the big +maple-tree. And the very reason she ran away so fast was so that she +could be all by herself for a very hard hour, and fight it out, alone. + +So let us go back soberly to the orchard where the Putneys are, and wait +till Betsy comes walking listlessly in, her eyes red and her cheeks +pale. Cousin Ann was up in the top of a tree, a basket hung over her +shoulder half full of striped red Northern Spies; Uncle Henry was on a +ladder against another tree, filling a bag with the beautiful, shining, +yellow-green Pound Sweets, and Aunt Abigail was moving around, picking +up the parti-colored windfalls and putting them into barrels ready to go +to the cider-mill. + +Something about the way Betsy walked, and as she drew closer something +about the expression of her face, and oh! as she began to speak, +something about the tone of her voice, stopped all this cheerful +activity as though a bomb had gone off in their midst. + +"I've had a letter from Aunt Frances," said Betsy, biting her lips, "and +she says she's coming to take me away, back to them, tomorrow." + +There was a big silence; Cousin Ann stood, perfectly motionless up in +her tree, staring down through the leaves at Betsy. Uncle Henry was +turned around on his ladder, one hand on an apple as though it had +frozen there, staring down at Betsy. Aunt Abigail leaned with both fat +hands on her barrel, staring hard at Betsy. Betsy was staring down at +her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes. The yellow, hazy +October sun sank slowly down toward the rim of Hemlock Mountain, and +sent long, golden shafts of light through the branches of the trees upon +this group of people, all so silent, so motionless. + +[Illustration: Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and +winking her eyes.] + +Betsy was the first to speak, and I'm very proud of her for what she +said. She said, loyally, "Dear Aunt Frances! She was always so sweet to +me! She always tried so hard to take care of me!" + +For that was what Betsy had found up by the brook under the big red +maple-tree. She had found there a certainty that, whatever else she did, +she must NOT hurt Aunt Frances's feelings--dear, gentle, sweet Aunt +Frances, whose feelings were so easily hurt and who had given her so +many years of such anxious care. Something up there had told +her--perhaps the quiet blue shadow of Windward Mountain creeping slowly +over the pasture toward her, perhaps the silent glory of the great +red-and-gold tree, perhaps the singing murmur of the little +brook--perhaps all of them together had told her that now had come a +time when she must do more than what Cousin Ann would do--when she must +do what she herself knew was right. And that was to protect Aunt Frances +from hurt. + +When she spoke, out there in the orchard, she broke the spell of +silence. Cousin Ann climbed hastily down from her tree, with her basket +only partly filled. Uncle Henry got stiffly off his ladder, and Aunt +Abigail advanced through the grass. And they all said the same +thing--"Let me see that letter." + +They read it there, looking over each other's shoulders, with grave +faces. Then, still silently, they all turned and went back into the +house, leaving their forgotten bags and barrels and baskets out under +the trees. When they found themselves in the kitchen--"Well, it's +suppertime, anyhow," said Cousin Ann hastily, as if ashamed of losing +her composure, "or almost time. We might as well get it now." + +"I'm a-going out to milk," said Uncle Henry gruffly, although it was not +nearly his usual time. He took up the milk pails and marched out toward +the barn, stepping heavily, his head hanging. + +Shep woke up with a snort and, getting off the couch, gamboled clumsily +up to Betsy, wagging his tail and jumping up on her, ready for a frolic. +That was almost too much for Betsy! To think that after tomorrow she +would never see Shep again--nor Eleanor! Nor the kittens! She choked as +she bent over Shep and put her arms around his neck for a great hug. But +she mustn't cry, she mustn't hurt Aunt Frances's feelings, or show that +she wasn't glad to go back to her. That wouldn't be fair, after all Aunt +Frances had done for her! + +That night she lay awake after she and Molly had gone to bed and Molly +was asleep. They had decided not to tell Molly until the last minute, so +she had dropped off peacefully, as usual. But poor Betsy's eyes were +wide open. She saw a gleam of light under the door. It widened; the door +opened. Aunt Abigail stood there, in her night cap, mountainous in her +long white gown, a candle shining up into her serious old face. + +"You awake, Betsy?" she whispered, seeing the child's dark eyes gleaming +at her over the covers. "I just--I just thought I'd look in to see if +you were all right." She came to the edge of the bed and set the candle +down on the little stand. Betsy reached her arms up longingly and the +old woman stooped over her. Neither of them said a single word during +the long embrace which followed. Then Aunt Abigail straightened up +hastily, took her candle very quickly and softly, and heavily padded out +of the room. + +Betsy turned over and flung one arm over Molly--no Molly, either, after +tomorrow! + +She gulped hard and stared up at the ceiling, dimly white in the +starlight. A gleam of light shone under the door. It widened, and Uncle +Henry stood there, a candle in his hand, peering into the room. "You +awake, Betsy?" he said cautiously. + +"Yes. I'm awake, Uncle Henry." + +The old man shuffled into the room. "I just got to thinking," he said, +hesitating, "that maybe you'd like to take my watch with you. It's kind +of handy to have a watch on the train. And I'd like real well for you to +have it." + +He laid it down on the stand, his own cherished gold watch, that had +been given him when he was twenty-one. + +Betsy reached out and took his hard, gnarled old fist in a tight grip. +"Oh, Uncle Henry!" she began, and could not go on. + +"We'll miss you, Betsy," he said in an uncertain voice. "It's +been ... it's been real nice to have you here ..." + +And then he too snatched up his candle very quickly and almost ran out +of the room. + +Betsy turned over on her back. "No crying, now!" she told herself +fiercely. "No crying, now!" She clenched her hands together tightly and +set her teeth. + +Something moved in the room. Somebody leaned over her. It was Cousin +Ann, who didn't make a sound, not one, but who took Betsy in her strong +arms and held her close and closer, till Betsy could feel the quick +pulse of the other's heart beating all through her own body. Then she +was gone--as silently as she came. + +But somehow that great embrace had taken away all the burning tightness +from Betsy's eyes and heart. She was very, very tired, and soon after +this she fell sound asleep, snuggled up close to Molly. + +In the morning, nobody spoke of last night at all. Breakfast was +prepared and eaten, and the team hitched up directly afterward. Betsy +and Uncle Henry were to drive to the station together to meet Aunt +Frances's train. Betsy put on her new wine-colored cashmere that Cousin +Ann had made her, with the soft white collar of delicate old embroidery +that Aunt Abigail had given her out of one of the trunks in the attic. + +She and Uncle Henry said very little as they drove to the village, and +even less as they stood waiting together on the platform. Betsy slipped +her hand into his and he held it tight as the train whistled in the +distance and came slowly and laboriously puffing up to the station. + +Just one person got off at the little station, and that was Aunt +Frances, looking ever so dressed up and citified, with a fluffy +ostrich-feather boa and kid gloves and a white veil over her face and a +big blue one floating from her gay-flowered velvet hat. How pretty she +was! And how young--under the veil which hid so kindly all the little +lines in her sweet, thin face. And how excited and fluttery! Betsy had +forgotten how fluttery Aunt Frances was! She clasped Betsy to her, and +then started back crying--she must see to her suitcase--and then she +clasped Betsy to her again and shook hands with Uncle Henry, whose grim +old face looked about as cordial and welcoming as the sourest kind of +sour pickle, and she fluttered back and said she must have left her +umbrella on the train. "Oh, Conductor! Conductor! My umbrella--right in +my seat--a blue one with a crooked-over--oh, here it is in my hand! What +am I thinking of!" + +The conductor evidently thought he'd better get the train away as soon +as possible, for he now shouted, "All aboard!" to nobody at all, and +sprang back on the steps. The train went off, groaning over the steep +grade, and screaming out its usual echoing warning about the next road +crossing. + +Uncle Henry took Aunt Frances's suitcase and plodded back to the surrey. +He got into the front seat and Aunt Frances and Betsy in the back; and +they started off. + +And now I want you to listen to every single word that was said on the +back seat, for it was a very, very important conversation, when Betsy's +fate hung on the curl of an eyelash and the flicker of a voice, as fates +often do. + +Aunt Frances hugged Betsy again and again and exclaimed about her having +grown so big and tall and fat--she didn't say brown too, although you +could see that she was thinking that, as she looked through her veil at +Betsy's tanned face and down at the contrast between her own pretty, +white fingers and Betsy's leather-colored, muscular little hands. She +exclaimed and exclaimed and kept on exclaiming! Betsy wondered if she +really always had been as fluttery as this. And then, all of a sudden it +came out, the great news, the reason for the extra flutteriness. + +Aunt Frances was going to be married! + +Yes! Think of it! Betsy fell back open-mouthed with astonishment. + +"Did Betsy think her Aunt Frances a silly old thing?" + +"Oh, Aunt Frances, NO!" cried Betsy fervently. "You look just as YOUNG, +and pretty! Lots younger than I remembered you!" + +Aunt Frances flushed with pleasure and went on, "You'll love your old +Aunt Frances just as much, won't you, when she's Mrs. Plimpton!" + +Betsy put her arms around her and gave her a great hug. "I'll always +love you, Aunt Frances!" she said. + +"You'll love Mr. Plimpton, too. He's so big and strong, and he just +loves to take care of people. He says that's why he's marrying me. Don't +you wonder where we are going to live?" she asked, answering her own +question quickly. "We're not going to live anywhere. Isn't that a joke? +Mr. Plimpton's business keeps him always moving around from one place to +another, never more than a month anywhere." + +"What'll Aunt Harriet do?" asked Betsy wonderingly. + +"Why, she's ever and ever so much better," said Aunt Frances happily. +"And her own sister, my Aunt Rachel, has come back from China, where +she's been a missionary for ever so long, and the two old ladies are +going to keep house together out in California, in the dearest little +bungalow, all roses and honeysuckle. But YOU'RE going to be with me. +Won't it be jolly fun, darling, to go traveling all about everywhere, +and see new places all the time!" + +Now those are the words Aunt Frances said, but something in her voice +and her face suggested a faint possibility to Betsy that maybe Aunt +Frances didn't really think it would be such awfully jolly fun as her +words said. Her heart gave a big jump up, and she had to hold tight to +the arm of the surrey before she could ask, in a quiet voice, "But, Aunt +Frances, won't I be awfully in your way, traveling around so?" + +Now, Aunt Frances had ears of her own, and though that was what Betsy's +words said, what Aunt Frances heard was a suggestion that possibly Betsy +wasn't as crazy to leave Putney Farm as she had supposed of course she +would be. + +They both stopped talking for a moment and peered at each other through +the thicket of words that held them apart. I told you this was a very +momentous conversation. One sure thing is that the people on the back +seat saw the inside of the surrey as they traveled along, and nothing +else. Red sumac and bronzed beech-trees waved their flags at them in +vain. They kept their eyes fixed on each other intently, each in an +agony of fear lest she hurt the other's feelings. + +After a pause Aunt Frances came to herself with a start, and said, +affectionately putting her arm around Betsy, "Why, you darling, what +does Aunt Frances care about trouble if her own dear baby-girl is +happy?" + +And Betsy said, resolutely, "Oh, you know, Aunt Frances, I'd LOVE to be +with you!" She ventured one more step through the thicket. "But +honestly, Aunt Frances, WON'T it be a bother...?" + +Aunt Frances ventured another step to meet her, "But dear little girls +must be SOMEWHERE ..." + +And Betsy almost forgot her caution and burst out, "But I could stay +here! I know they would keep me!" + +Even Aunt Frances's two veils could not hide the gleam of relief and +hope that came into her pretty, thin, sweet face. She summoned all her +courage and stepped out into the clearing in the middle of the thicket, +asking right out, boldly, "Why, do you like it here, Betsy? Would you +like to stay?" + +And Betsy--she never could remember afterward if she had been careful +enough not to shout too loudly and joyfully--Betsy cried out, "Oh, I +LOVE it here!" There they stood, face to face, looking at each other +with honest and very happy eyes. Aunt Frances threw her arm around Betsy +and asked again, "Are you SURE, dear?" and didn't try to hide her +relief. And neither did Betsy. + +"I could visit you once in a while, when you are somewhere near here," +suggested Betsy, beaming. + +"Oh, YES, I must have SOME of the time with my darling!" said Aunt +Frances. And this time there was nothing in their hearts that +contradicted their lips. + +They clung to each other in speechless satisfaction as Uncle Henry +guided the surrey up to the marble stepping-stone. Betsy jumped out +first, and while Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Frances out, she was +dashing up the walk like a crazy thing. She flung open the front door +and catapulted into Aunt Abigail just coming out. It was like flinging +herself into a feather-bed.... + +"Oh! Oh!" she gasped out. "Aunt Frances is going to be married. And +travel around all the time! And she doesn't REALLY want me at all! Can't +I stay here? Can't I stay here?" + +Cousin Ann was right behind Aunt Abigail, and she heard this. She looked +over their shoulders toward Aunt Frances, who was approaching from +behind, and said, in her usual calm and collected voice: "How do you do, +Frances? Glad to see you, Frances. How well you're looking! I hear you +are in for congratulations. Who's the happy man?" + +Betsy was overcome with admiration for her coolness in being able to +talk so in such an exciting moment. She knew Aunt Abigail couldn't have +done it, for she had sat down in a rocking-chair, and was holding Betsy +on her lap. The little girl could see her wrinkled old hand trembling on +the arm of the chair. + +"I hope that means," continued Cousin Ann, going as usual straight to +the point, "that we can keep Betsy here with us." + +"Oh, would you like to?" asked Aunt Frances, fluttering, as though the +idea had never occurred to her before that minute. "Would Elizabeth Ann +really LIKE to stay?" + +"Oh, I'd LIKE to, all right!" said Betsy, looking confidently up into +Aunt Abigail's face. + +Aunt Abigail spoke now. She cleared her throat twice before she could +bring out a word. Then she said, "Why, yes, we'd kind of like to keep +her. We've sort of got used to having her around." + +That's what she SAID, but, as you have noticed before on this exciting +day, what people said didn't matter as much as what they looked; and as +her old lips pronounced these words so quietly the corners of Aunt +Abigail's mouth were twitching, and she was swallowing hard. She said, +impatiently, to Cousin Ann, "Hand me that handkerchief, Ann!" And as she +blew her nose, she said, "Oh, what an old fool I am!" + +Then, all of a sudden, it was as though a great, fresh breeze had blown +through the house. They all drew a long breath and began to talk loudly +and cheerfully about the weather and Aunt Frances's trip and how Aunt +Harriet was and which room Aunt Frances was to have and would she leave +her wraps down in the hall or take them upstairs--and, in the midst of +this, Betsy, her heart ready to burst, dashed out of doors, followed by +Shep. She ran madly toward the barn. She did not know where she was +going. She only knew that she must run and jump and shout, or she would +explode. + +Shep ran and jumped because Betsy did. + +To these two wild creatures, careering through the air like bright-blown +autumn leaves, appeared little Molly in the barn door. + +"Oh, I'm going to stay! I'm going to stay!" screamed Betsy. + +But as Molly had not had any notion of the contrary, she only said, "Of +course, why not?" and went on to something really important, saying, in +a very much capitalized statement, "My kitten can WALK! It took THREE +STEPS just now." + +After Aunt Frances got her wraps off, Betsy took her for a tour of +inspection. They went all over the house first, with special emphasis +laid on the living-room. "Isn't this the loveliest place?" said Betsy, +fervently, looking about her at the white curtains, the bright flowers, +the southern sunshine, the bookcases, and the bright cooking utensils. +It was all full to the brim to her eyes with happiness, and she forgot +entirely that she had thought it a very poor, common kind of room when +she had first seen it. Nor did she notice that Aunt Frances showed no +enthusiasm over it now. + +She stopped for a few moments to wash some potatoes and put them into +the oven for dinner. Aunt Frances opened her eyes at this. "I always see +to the potatoes and the apples, the cooking of them, I mean," explained +Betsy proudly. "I've just learned to make apple-pie and brown betty." + +Then down into the stone-floored milk-room, where Aunt Abigail was +working over butter, and where Betsy, swelling with pride, showed Aunt +Frances how deftly and smoothly she could manipulate the wooden paddle +and make rolls of butter that weighed within an ounce or two of a pound. + +"Mercy, child! Think of your being able to do such things!" said Aunt +Frances, more and more astonished. + +They went out of doors now, Shep bounding by their side. Betsy was +amazed to see that Aunt Frances drew back, quite nervously, whenever the +big dog frisked near her. Out in the barn Betsy had a disappointment. +Aunt Frances just balked absolutely at those ladder-like stairs--"Oh, I +COULDN'T! I couldn't, dear. Do YOU go up there? Is it quite safe?" + +"Why, AUNT ABIGAIL went up there to see the kittens!" cried Betsy, on +the edge of exasperation. But her heart softened at the sight of Aunt +Frances's evident distress of mind at the very idea of climbing into the +loft, and she brought the kittens down for inspection, Eleanor mewing +anxiously at the top of the stairs. + +On the way back to the house they had an adventure, a sort of adventure, +and it brought home to Betsy once for all how much she loved dear, sweet +Aunt Frances, and just what kind of love it was. + +As they crossed the barnyard the calf approached them playfully, leaping +stiff-legged into the air, and making a pretense of butting at them with +its hornless young head. + +Betsy and Shep often played with the calf in this way by the half-hour, +and she thought nothing of it now; hardly noticed it, in fact. + +But Aunt Frances gave a loud, piercing shriek, as though she were being +cut into pieces. "Help! HELP!" she screamed. "Betsy! Oh, Betsy!" + +She had turned as white as a sheet and could not take a single step +forward. "It's nothing! It's nothing!" said Betsy, rather impatiently. +"He's just playing. We often play with him, Shep and I." + +The calf came a little nearer, with lowered head. "GET away!" said Betsy +indifferently, kicking at him. + +At this hint of masterfulness on Betsy's part, Aunt Frances cried out, +"Oh, yes, Betsy, DO make him go away! Do make him go away!" + +It came over Betsy that Aunt Frances was really frightened, yes, really; +and all at once her impatience disappeared, never to come back again. +She felt toward Aunt Frances just as she did toward little Molly, and +she acted accordingly. She stepped in front of Aunt Frances, picked up a +stick, and hit the calf a blow on the neck with it. He moved away, +startled and injured, looking at his playfellow with reproachful eyes. +But Betsy was relentless. Aunt Frances must not be frightened! + +"Here, Shep! Here, Shep!" she called loudly, and when the big dog came +bounding to her she pointed to the calf and said sternly, "Take him into +the barn! Drive him into the barn, sir!" + +Shep asked nothing better than this command, and charged forward, +barking furiously and leaping into the air as though he intended to eat +the calf up alive. The two swept across the barnyard and into the lower +regions of the barn. In a moment Shep reappeared, his tongue hanging +out, his tail wagging, his eyes glistening, very proud of himself, and +mounted guard at the door. + +Aunt Frances hurried along desperately through the gate of the barnyard. +As it fell to behind her she sank down on a rock, breathless, still pale +and agitated. Betsy threw her arms around her in a transport of +affection. She felt that she UNDERSTOOD Aunt Frances as nobody else +could, the dear, sweet, gentle, timid aunt! She took the thin, nervous +white fingers in her strong brown hands. "Oh, Aunt Frances, dear, +darling Aunt Frances!" she cried, "how I wish I could ALWAYS take care +of you." + +The last of the red and gold leaves were slowly drifting to the ground +as Betsy and Uncle Henry drove back from the station after seeing Aunt +Frances off. They were not silent this time, as when they had gone to +meet her. They were talking cheerfully together, laying their plans for +the winter which was so near. "I must begin to bank the house tomorrow," +mused Uncle Henry. "And those apples have got to go to the cider-mill, +right off. Don't you want to ride over on top of them, Betsy, and see +'em made into cider?" + +"Oh, my, yes!" said Betsy, "that will be fine! And I must put away +Deborah's summer clothes and get Cousin Ann to help me make some warm +ones, if I'm going to take her to school in cold weather." + +As they drove into the yard, they saw Eleanor coming from the direction +of the barn with something big and heavy in her mouth. She held her head +as high as she could, but even so, her burden dragged on the ground, +bumping softly against the rough places on the path. "Look!" said Betsy. +"Just see that great rat Eleanor has caught!" + +Uncle Henry squinted his old eyes toward the cat for a moment and +laughed. "We're not the only ones that are getting ready for winter," he +remarked. + +Betsy did not know what he meant and climbed hastily over the wheel and +ran to see. As she approached Eleanor, the cat laid her burden down with +an air of relief and looked trustfully into her little mistress's face. +Why, it was one of the kittens! Eleanor was bringing it to the house. +Oh, of course! they mustn't stay out there in that cold hay-loft now the +cold weather was drawing near. Betsy picked up the little sprawling +thing, trying with weak legs to get around over the rough ground. She +carried it carefully toward the house, Eleanor walking sinuously by her +side and "talking" in little singing, purring MIAUWS to explain her +ideas of kitten-comfort. Betsy felt that she quite understood her. "Yes, +Eleanor, a nice little basket behind the stove with a warm piece of an +old blanket in it. Yes, I'll fix it for you. It'll be lovely to have the +whole family there. And I'll bring the other one in for you." + +But evidently Eleanor did not understand little-girl talk as well as +Betsy understood cat-talk, for a little later, as Betsy turned from the +nest she was making in the corner behind the stove, Eleanor was missing; +and when she ran out toward the barn she met her again, her head +strained painfully back, dragging another fat, heavy kitten, who curled +his pink feet up as high as he could in a vain effort not to have them +knock against the stones. "Now, Eleanor," said Betsy, a little put out, +"you don't trust me enough! I was going to get it all right!" + +"Well," said Aunt Abigail, as they came into the kitchen, "now you must +begin to teach them to drink." + +"Goodness!" said Betsy, "don't they know how to drink already?" + +"You try them and see," said Aunt Abigail with a mysterious smile. + +So when Uncle Henry brought the pails full of fragrant, warm milk into +the house, Betsy poured out some in a saucer and put the kittens up to +it. She and Molly squatted down on their heels to watch, and before long +they were laughing so that they were rolling on the kitchen floor. At +first the kittens looked every way but at the milk, seeming to see +everything but what was under their noses. Then Graykin (that was +Betsy's) absent-mindedly walked right through the saucer, emerging with +very wet feet and a very much aggrieved and astonished expression. Molly +screamed with laughter to see him shake his little pink toes and finally +sit down seriously to lick them clean. Then White-bib (Molly's) put his +head down to the saucer. + +"There! Mine is smarter than yours!" said Molly. But White-bib went on +putting his head down, down, down, clear into the milk nearly up to his +eyes, although he looked very frightened and miserable. Then he jerked +it up quickly and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, such deliriously +funny little baby sneezes! He pawed and pawed at his little pink nose +with his little pink paw until Eleanor took pity on him and came to wash +him off. In the midst of this process she saw the milk, and left off to +lap it up eagerly; and in a jiffy she had drunk every drop and was +licking the saucer loudly with her raspy tongue. And that was the end of +the kittens' first lesson. + +That evening, as they sat around the lamp, Eleanor came and got up in +Betsy's lap just like old times. Betsy was playing checkers with Uncle +Henry and interrupted the game to welcome the cat back delightedly. But +Eleanor was uneasy, and kept stopping her toilet to prick up her ears +and look restlessly toward the basket, where the kittens lay curled so +closely together that they looked like one soft ball of gray fur. By and +by Eleanor jumped down heavily and went back to the basket. She stayed +there only a moment, standing over the kittens and licking them +convulsively, and then she came back and got up in Betsy's lap again. + +"What ails that cat?" said Cousin Ann, noting this pacing and +restlessness. + +"Maybe she wants Betsy to hold her kittens, too," suggested Aunt +Abigail. + +"Oh, I'd love to!" said Betsy, spreading out her knees to make her lap +bigger. + +"But I want my own White-bib myself!" said Molly, looking up from the +beads she was stringing. + +"Well, maybe Eleanor would let you settle it that way," said Cousin Ann. + +The little girls ran over to the basket and brought back each her own +kitten. Eleanor watched them anxiously, but as soon as they sat down she +jumped up happily into Betsy's lap and curled down close to little +Graykin. This time she was completely satisfied, and her loud purring +filled the room with a peaceable murmur. + +"There, now you're fixed for the winter," said Aunt Abigail. + +By and by, after Cousin Ann had popped some corn, old Shep got off the +couch and came to stand by Betsy's knee to get an occasional handful. +Eleanor opened one eye, recognized a friend, and shut it sleepily. But +the little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monster +so near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up his +ridiculous little tail, opened his absurd, little pink mouth in a soft, +baby s-s-s-, and struck savagely at old Shep's good-natured face with a +soft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pride +in the intrepid little morsel. She burst into laughter, but she picked +it up and held it lovingly close to her cheek. What fun it was going to +be to see those kittens grow up! + +Old Shep padded back softly to the couch, his toe-nails clicking on the +floor, hoisted himself heavily up, and went to sleep. The kitten +subsided into a ball again. Eleanor stirred and stretched in her sleep +and laid her head in utter trust on her little mistress's hand. After +that Betsy moved the checkers only with her other hand. + +In the intervals of the game, while Uncle Henry was pondering over his +moves, the little girl looked down at her pets and listened absently to +the keen autumnal wind that swept around the old house, shaking the +shutters and rattling the windows. A stick of wood in the stove burned +in two and fell together with a soft, whispering sound. The lamp cast a +steady radiance on Uncle Henry bent seriously over the checker-board, on +Molly's blooming, round cheeks and bright hair, on Aunt Abigail's rosy, +cheerful, wrinkled old face, and on Cousin Ann's quiet, clear, dark +eyes.... + +That room was full to the brim of something beautiful, and Betsy knew +what it was. Its name was Happiness. + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY *** + +***** This file should be named 5347.txt or 5347.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5347/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Understood Betsy + +Author: Dorothy Canfield + +Release Date: January 31, 2011 [EBook #5347] +[Last updated: March 26, 2017] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +HTML version produced by Chuck Greif. + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="355" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<h1>UNDERSTOOD BETSY</h1> + +<p class="c">BY DOROTHY CANFIELD<br /><br /> +Author of "The Bent Twig," etc.</p> + +<p class="c">ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br /> +ADA C. WILLIAMSON</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 359px;"> +<a name="front" id="front"></a> +<a href="images/front.jpg"> +<img src="images/front_sml.jpg" width="359" height="550" alt="Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one spectacle glass. (Page 34)" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one spectacle glass. (Page 34)</span> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="" +style="font-weight:bold;"> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a></td><td>Aunt Harriet Has a Cough</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a></td><td>Betsy Holds the Reins</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a></td><td>A Short Morning</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a></td><td>Betsy Goes to School</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a></td><td>What Grade is Betsy?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a></td><td>If You Don't Like Conversation in a Book Skip this Chapter!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a></td><td>Elizabeth Ann Fails in an Examination</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a></td><td>Betsy Starts a Sewing Society</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a></td><td>The New Clothes Fail</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a></td><td>Betsy Has a Birthday</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a></td><td>"Understood Aunt Frances"</td></tr> +</table> + +<h3><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + +<ul style="list-style-type:none;text-indent:-1em;"> +<li><a href="#front">Uncle Henry looked at her, eying her sidewise over the top of one spectacle-glass——</a><a href="#front">Frontispiece</a></li> + +<li><a href="#stood_up">Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#do_you_know">"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think +it's going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again"</a></li> + +<li><a href="#doing_hair">She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#asking_more">"Oh, he's asking for more!" cried Elizabeth Ann</a></li> + +<li><a href="#shut_teeth">Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and started across</a></li> + +<li><a href="#whats_matter">"What's the matter, Molly? What's the matter?"</a></li> + +<li><a href="#old_doll">Betsy and Ellen and the old doll</a></li> + +<li><a href="#fallen_asleep">He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms</a></li> + +<li><a href="#dishes_washed">Never were dishes washed better!</a></li> + +<li><a href="#staring_down">Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes</a></li> +</ul> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> +AUNT HARRIET HAS A COUGH</h3> + +<p>When this story begins, Elizabeth Ann, who is the heroine of it, was a +little girl of nine, who lived with her Great-aunt Harriet in a +medium-sized city in a medium-sized State in the middle of this country; +and that's all you need to know about the place, for it's not the +important thing in the story; and anyhow you know all about it because +it was probably very much like the place you live in yourself.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann's Great-aunt Harriet was a widow who was not very rich or +very poor, and she had one daughter, Frances, who gave piano lessons to +little girls. They kept a "girl" whose name was Grace and who had asthma +dreadfully and wasn't very much of a "girl" at all, being nearer fifty +than forty. Aunt Harriet, who was very tender-hearted, kept her chiefly +because she couldn't get any other place on account of her coughing so +you could hear her all over the house.</p> + +<p>So now you know the names of all the household. And this is how they +looked: Aunt Harriet was very small and thin and old, Grace was very +small and thin and middle-aged, Aunt Frances (for Elizabeth Ann called +her "Aunt," although she was really, of course, a +first-cousin-once-removed) was small and thin and if the light wasn't +too strong might be called young, and Elizabeth Ann was very small and +thin and little. And yet they all had plenty to eat. I wonder what was +the matter with them?</p> + +<p>It was certainly not because they were not good, for no womenkind in all +the world had kinder hearts than they. You have heard how Aunt Harriet +kept Grace (in spite of the fact that she was a very depressing person) +on account of her asthma; and when Elizabeth Ann's father and mother +both died when she was a baby, although there were many other cousins +and uncles and aunts in the family, these two women fairly rushed upon +the little baby-orphan, taking her home and surrounding her henceforth +with the most loving devotion.</p> + +<p>They had said to themselves that it was their manifest duty to save the +dear little thing from the other relatives, who had no idea about how to +bring up a sensitive, impressionable child, and they were sure, from the +way Elizabeth Ann looked at six months, that she was going to be a +sensitive, impressionable child. It is possible also that they were a +little bored with their empty life in their rather forlorn, little brick +house in the medium-sized city, and that they welcomed the occupation +and new interests which a child would bring in.</p> + +<p>But they thought that they chiefly desired to save dear Edward's child +from the other kin, especially from the Putney cousins, who had written +down from their Vermont farm that they would be glad to take the little +girl into their family. But "<i>anything</i> but the Putneys!" said Aunt +Harriet, a great many times. They were related only by marriage to her, +and she had her own opinion of them as a stiffnecked, cold-hearted, +undemonstrative, and hard set of New Englanders. "I boarded near them +one summer when you were a baby, Frances, and I shall never forget the +way they were treating some children visiting there! ... Oh, no, I don't +mean they abused them or beat them ... but such lack of sympathy, such +perfect indifference to the sacred sensitiveness of child-life, such a +starving of the child-heart ... No, I shall never forget it! They had +chores to do ... as though they had been hired men!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Harriet never meant to say any of this when Elizabeth Ann could +hear, but the little girl's ears were as sharp as little girls' ears +always are, and long before she was nine she knew all about the opinion +Aunt Harriet had of the Putneys. She did not know, to be sure, what +"chores" were, but she took it confidently from Aunt Harriet's voice +that they were something very, very dreadful.</p> + +<p>There was certainly neither coldness nor hardness in the way Aunt +Harriet and Aunt Frances treated Elizabeth Ann. They had really given +themselves up to the new responsibility, especially Aunt Frances, who +was very conscientious about everything. As soon as the baby came there +to live, Aunt Frances stopped reading novels and magazines, and re-read +one book after another which told her how to bring up children. And she +joined a Mothers' Club which met once a week. And she took a +correspondence course in mothercraft from a school in Chicago which +teaches that business by mail. So you can see that by the time Elizabeth +Ann was nine years old Aunt Frances must have known all that anybody can +know about how to bring up children. And Elizabeth Ann got the benefit +of it all.</p> + +<p>She and her Aunt Frances were simply inseparable. Aunt Frances shared in +all Elizabeth Ann's doings and even in all her thoughts. She was +especially anxious to share all the little girl's thoughts, because she +felt that the trouble with most children is that they are not +understood, and she was determined that she would thoroughly understand +Elizabeth Ann down to the bottom of her little mind. Aunt Frances (down +in the bottom of her own mind) thought that her mother had never <i>really</i> +understood her, and she meant to do better by Elizabeth Ann. She also +loved the little girl with all her heart, and longed, above everything +in the world, to protect her from all harm and to keep her happy and +strong and well.</p> + +<p>And yet Elizabeth Ann was neither very strong nor well. And as to her +being happy, you can judge for yourself when you have read all this +story. She was very small for her age, with a rather pale face and big +dark eyes which had in them a frightened, wistful expression that went +to Aunt Frances's tender heart and made her ache to take care of +Elizabeth Ann better and better.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances was afraid of a great many things herself, and she knew how +to sympathize with timidity. She was always quick to reassure the little +girl with all her might and main whenever there was anything to fear. +When they were out walking (Aunt Frances took her out for a walk up one +block and down another every single day, no matter how tired the music +lessons had made her), the aunt's eyes were always on the alert to avoid +anything which might frighten Elizabeth Ann. If a big dog trotted by, +Aunt Frances always said, hastily: "There, there, dear! That's a <i>nice</i> +doggie, I'm sure. I don't believe he ever bites little girls. ... <i>mercy</i>! +Elizabeth Ann, don't go near him! ... Here, darling, just get on the +other side of Aunt Frances if he scares you so" (by that time Elizabeth +Ann was always pretty well scared), "and perhaps we'd better just turn +this corner and walk in the other direction." If by any chance the dog +went in that direction too, Aunt Frances became a prodigy of valiant +protection, putting the shivering little girl behind her, threatening +the animal with her umbrella, and saying in a trembling voice, "Go away, +sir! Go <i>away</i>!"</p> + +<p>Or if it thundered and lightened, Aunt Frances always dropped everything +she might be doing and held Elizabeth Ann tightly in her arms until it +was all over. And at night—Elizabeth Ann did not sleep very well—when +the little girl woke up screaming with a bad dream, it was always dear +Aunt Frances who came to her bedside, a warm wrapper over her nightgown +so that she need not hurry back to her own room, a candle lighting up +her tired, kind face. She always took the little girl into her thin arms +and held her close against her thin breast. "<i>Tell</i> Aunt Frances all about +your naughty dream, darling," she would murmur, "so's to get it off your +mind!"</p> + +<p>She had read in her books that you can tell a great deal about +children's inner lives by analyzing their dreams, and besides, if she +did not urge Elizabeth Ann to tell it, she was afraid the sensitive, +nervous little thing would "lie awake and brood over it." This was the +phrase she always used the next day to her mother when Aunt Harriet +exclaimed about her paleness and the dark rings under her eyes. So she +listened patiently while the little girl told her all about the fearful +dreams she had, the great dogs with huge red mouths that ran after her, +the Indians who scalped her, her schoolhouse on fire so that she had to +jump from a third-story window and was all broken to bits—once in a +while Elizabeth Ann got so interested in all this that she went on and +made up more awful things even than she had dreamed, and told long +stories which showed her to be a child of great imagination. But all +these dreams and continuations of dreams Aunt Frances wrote down the +first thing the next morning, and, with frequent references to a thick +book full of hard words, she tried her best to puzzle out from them +exactly what kind of little girl Elizabeth Ann really was.</p> + +<p>There was one dream, however, that even conscientious Aunt Frances never +tried to analyze, because it was too sad. Elizabeth Ann dreamed +sometimes that she was dead and lay in a little white coffin with white +roses over her. Oh, that made Aunt Frances cry, and so did Elizabeth +Ann. It was very touching. Then, after a long, long time of talk and +tears and sobs and hugs, the little girl would begin to get drowsy, and +Aunt Frances would rock her to sleep in her arms, and lay her down ever +so quietly, and slip away to try to get a little nap herself before it +was time to get up.</p> + +<p>At a quarter of nine every weekday morning Aunt Frances dropped whatever +else she was doing, took Elizabeth Ann's little, thin, white hand +protectingly in hers, and led her through the busy streets to the big +brick school-building where the little girl had always gone to school. +It was four stories high, and when all the classes were in session there +were six hundred children under that one roof. You can imagine, perhaps, +the noise there was on the playground just before school! Elizabeth Ann +shrank from it with all her soul, and clung more tightly than ever to +Aunt Frances's hand as she was led along through the crowded, shrieking +masses of children. Oh, how glad she was that she had Aunt Frances there +to take care of her, though as a matter of fact nobody noticed the +little thin girl at all, and her very own classmates would hardly have +known whether she came to school or not. Aunt Frances took her safely +through the ordeal of the playground, then up the long, broad stairs, +and pigeonholed her carefully in her own schoolroom. She was in the +third grade,—3A, you understand, which is almost the fourth.</p> + +<p>Then at noon Aunt Frances was waiting there, a patient, never-failing +figure, to walk home with her little charge; and in the afternoon the +same thing happened over again. On the way to and from school they +talked about what had happened in the class. Aunt Frances believed in +sympathizing with a child's life, so she always asked about every little +thing, and remembered to inquire about the continuation of every +episode, and sympathized with all her heart over the failure in mental +arithmetic, and triumphed over Elizabeth Ann's beating the Schmidt girl +in spelling, and was indignant over the teacher's having pets. Sometimes +in telling over some very dreadful failure or disappointment Elizabeth +Ann would get so wrought up that she would cry. This always brought the +ready tears to Aunt Frances's kind eyes, and with many soothing words +and nervous, tremulous caresses she tried to make life easier for poor +little Elizabeth Ann. The days when they had cried they could neither of +them eat much luncheon.</p> + +<p>After school and on Saturdays there was always the daily walk, and there +were lessons, all kinds of lessons—piano-lessons of course, and +nature-study lessons out of an excellent book Aunt Frances had bought, +and painting lessons, and sewing lessons, and even a little French, +although Aunt Frances was not very sure about her own pronunciation. She +wanted to give the little girl every possible advantage, you see. They +were really inseparable. Elizabeth Ann once said to some ladies calling +on her aunts that whenever anything happened in school, the first thing +she thought of was what Aunt Frances would think of it.</p> + +<p>"Why is that?" they asked, looking at Aunt Frances, who was blushing +with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is so interested in my school work! And she <i>understands</i> me!" +said Elizabeth Ann, repeating the phrases she had heard so often.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances's eyes filled with happy tears. She called Elizabeth Ann to +her and kissed her and gave her as big a hug as her thin arms could +manage. Elizabeth Ann was growing tall very fast. One of the visiting +ladies said that before long she would be as big as her auntie, and a +troublesome young lady. Aunt Frances said: "I have had her from the time +she was a little baby and there has scarcely been an hour she has been +out of my sight. I'll always have her confidence. You'll always tell +Aunt Frances <i>everything</i>, won't you, darling?" Elizabeth Ann resolved to +do this always, even if, as now, she often had to invent things to tell.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances went on, to the callers: "But I do wish she weren't so thin +and pale and nervous. I suppose it is the exciting modern life that is +so bad for children. I try to see that she has plenty of fresh air. I go +out with her for a walk every single day. But we have taken all the +walks around here so often that we're rather tired of them. It's often +hard to know how to get her out enough. I think I'll have to get the +doctor to come and see her and perhaps give her a tonic." To Elizabeth +Ann she added, hastily: "Now don't go getting notions in your head, +darling. Aunt Frances doesn't think there's anything <i>very</i> much the +matter with you. You'll be all right again soon if you just take the +doctor's medicine nicely. Aunt Frances will take care of her precious +little girl. <i>She</i>ll make the bad sickness go away." Elizabeth Ann, who +had not known before that she was sick, had a picture of herself lying +in the little white coffin, all covered over with white. ... In a few +minutes Aunt Frances was obliged to excuse herself from her callers and +devote herself entirely to taking care of Elizabeth Ann.</p> + +<p>So one day, after this had happened several times, Aunt Frances really +did send for the doctor, who came briskly in, just as Elizabeth Ann had +always seen him, with his little square black bag smelling of leather, +his sharp eyes, and the air of bored impatience which he always wore in +that house. Elizabeth Ann was terribly afraid to see him, for she felt +in her bones he would say she had galloping consumption and would die +before the leaves cast a shadow. This was a phrase she had picked up +from Grace, whose conversation, perhaps on account of her asthma, was +full of references to early graves and quick declines.</p> + +<p>And yet—did you ever hear of such a case before?—although Elizabeth +Ann when she first stood up before the doctor had been quaking with fear +lest he discover some deadly disease in her, she was very much hurt +indeed when, after thumping her and looking at her lower eyelid inside +out, and listening to her breathing, he pushed her away with a little +jerk and said: "There's nothing in the world the matter with that child. +She's as sound as a nut! What she needs is ..."—he looked for a moment +at Aunt Frances's thin, anxious face, with the eyebrows drawn together +in a knot of conscientiousness, and then he looked at Aunt Harriet's +thin, anxious face with the eyebrows drawn up that very same way, and +then he glanced at Grace's thin, anxious face peering from the door +waiting for his verdict—and then he drew a long breath, shut his lips +and his little black case very tightly, and did not go on to say what it +was that Elizabeth Ann needed.</p> + +<p>Of course Aunt Frances didn't let him off as easily as that, you may be +sure. She fluttered around him as he tried to go, and she said all sorts +of fluttery things to him, like "But, Doctor, she hasn't gained a pound +in three months ... and her sleep ... and her appetite ... and her +nerves ..."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<a name="stood_up" id="stood_up"></a> +<a href="images/stood_up.jpg"> +<img src="images/stood_up_sml.jpg" width="386" height="550" alt="Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor." title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.</span> +</div> + +<p>The doctor said back to her, as he put on his hat, all the things +doctors always say under such conditions: "More beefsteak ... plenty of +fresh air ... more sleep ... <i>She</i>ll be all right ..." but his voice did not +sound as though he thought what he was saying amounted to much. Nor did +Elizabeth Ann. She had hoped for some spectacular red pills to be taken +every half-hour, like those Grace's doctor gave her whenever she felt +low in her mind.</p> + +<p>And just then something happened which changed Elizabeth Ann's life +forever and ever. It was a very small thing, too. Aunt Harriet coughed. +Elizabeth Ann did not think it at all a bad-sounding cough in comparison +with Grace's hollow whoop; Aunt Harriet had been coughing like that ever +since the cold weather set in, for three or four months now, and nobody +had thought anything of it, because they were all so much occupied in +taking care of the sensitive, nervous little girl who needed so much +care.</p> + +<p>And yet, at the sound of that little discreet cough behind Aunt +Harriet's hand, the doctor whirled around and fixed his sharp eyes on +her, with all the bored, impatient look gone, the first time Elizabeth +Ann had ever seen him look interested. "What's that? What's that?" he +said, going over quickly to Aunt Harriet. He snatched out of his little +bag a shiny thing with two rubber tubes attached, and he put the ends of +the tubes in his ears and the shiny thing up against Aunt Harriet, who +was saying, "It's nothing, Doctor ... a little teasing cough I've had this +winter. And I meant to tell you, too, but I forgot it, that that sore +spot on my lungs doesn't go away as it ought to."</p> + +<p>The doctor motioned her very impolitely to stop talking, and listened +very hard through his little tubes. Then he turned around and looked at +Aunt Frances as though he were angry at her. He said, "Take the child +away and then come back here yourself."</p> + +<p>And that was almost all that Elizabeth Ann ever knew of the forces which +swept her away from the life which had always gone on, revolving about +her small person, exactly the same ever since she could remember.</p> + +<p>You have heard so much about tears in the account of Elizabeth Ann's +life so far that I won't tell you much about the few days which +followed, as the family talked over and hurriedly prepared to obey the +doctor's verdict, which was that Aunt Harriet was very, very sick and +must go away at once to a warm climate, and Aunt Frances must go, too, +but not Elizabeth Ann, for Aunt Frances would need to give all her time +to taking care of Aunt Harriet. And anyhow the doctor didn't think it +best, either for Aunt Harriet or for Elizabeth Ann, to have them in the +same house.</p> + +<p>Grace couldn't go of course, but to everybody's surprise she said she +didn't mind, because she had a bachelor brother, who kept a grocery +store, who had been wanting her for years to go and keep house for him. +She said she had stayed on just out of conscientiousness because she +knew Aunt Harriet couldn't get along without her! And if you notice, +that's the way things often happen to very, very conscientious people.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann, however, had no grocer brother. She had, it is true, a +great many relatives, and of course it was settled she should go to some +of them till Aunt Frances could take her back. For the time being, just +now, while everything was so distracted and confused, she was to go to +stay with the Lathrop cousins, who lived in the same city, although it +was very evident that the Lathrops were not perfectly crazy with delight +over the prospect.</p> + +<p>Still, something had to be done at once, and Aunt Frances was so frantic +with the packing up, and the moving men coming to take the furniture to +storage, and her anxiety over her mother—she had switched to Aunt +Harriet, you see, all the conscientiousness she had lavished on +Elizabeth Ann—nothing much could be extracted from her about Elizabeth +Ann. "Just keep her for the present, Molly!" she said to Cousin Molly +Lathrop. "I'll do something soon. I'll write you. I'll make another +arrangement ... but just <i>now</i>...."</p> + +<p>Her voice was quavering on the edge of tears, and Cousin Molly Lathrop, +who hated scenes, said hastily, "Yes, oh, yes, of course. For the +present ..." and went away, thinking that she didn't see why she should +have <i>all</i> the disagreeable things to do. When she had her husband's +tyrannical old mother to take care of, wasn't that enough, without +adding to the household such a nervous, spoiled, morbid young one as +Elizabeth Ann!</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann did not of course for a moment dream that Cousin Molly was +thinking any such things about her, but she could not help seeing that +Cousin Molly was not any too enthusiastic about taking her in; and she +was already feeling terribly forlorn about the sudden, unexpected change +in Aunt Frances, who had been <i>so</i> wrapped up in her and now was just as +much wrapped up in Aunt Harriet. Do you know, I am sorry for Elizabeth +Ann, and, what's more, I have been ever since this story began.</p> + +<p>Well, since I promised you that I was not going to tell about more +tears, I won't say a single word about the day when the two aunts went +away on the train, for there is nothing much but tears to tell about, +except perhaps an absent look in Aunt Frances's eyes which hurt the +little girl's feelings dreadfully.</p> + +<p>And then Cousin Molly took the hand of the sobbing little girl and led +her back to the Lathrop house. But if you think you are now going to +hear about the Lathrops, you are quite mistaken, for just at this moment +old Mrs. Lathrop took a hand in the matter. She was Cousin Molly's +husband's mother, and, of course, no relation at all to Elizabeth Ann, +and so was less enthusiastic than anybody else. All that Elizabeth Ann +ever saw of this old lady, who now turned the current of her life again, +was her head, sticking out of a second-story window; and that's all that +you need to know about her, either. It was a very much agitated old +head, and it bobbed and shook with the intensity with which the +imperative old voice called upon Cousin Molly and Elizabeth Ann to stop +right there where they were on the front walk.</p> + +<p>"The doctor says that what's the matter with Bridget is scarlet fever, +and we've all got to be quarantined. There's no earthly sense bringing +that child in to be sick and have it, and be nursed, and make the +quarantine twice as long!"</p> + +<p>"But, Mother!" called Cousin Molly, "I can't leave the child in the +middle of the street!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was actually glad to hear her say that, because she was +feeling so awfully unwanted, which is, if you think of it, not a very +cheerful feeling for a little girl who has been the hub round which a +whole household was revolving.</p> + +<p>"You don't <i>have</i> to!" shouted old Mrs. Lathrop out of her second-story +window. Although she did not add "You gump!" aloud, you could feel she +was meaning just that. "You don't have to! You can just send her to the +Putney cousins. All nonsense about her not going there in the first +place. They invited her the minute they heard of Harriet's being so bad. +They're the natural ones to take her in. Abigail is her mother's own +aunt, and Ann is her own first-cousin-once-removed ... just as close as +Harriet and Frances are, and <i>much</i> closer than you! And on a farm and +all ... just the place for her!"</p> + +<p>"But how under the sun, Mother!" shouted Cousin Molly back, "can I <i>get</i> +her to the Putneys'? You can't send a child of nine a thousand miles +without ..."</p> + +<p>Old Mrs. Lathrop looked again as though she were saying "You gump!" and +said aloud, "Why, there's James, going to New York on business in a few +days anyhow. He can just go now, and take her along and put her on the +right train at Albany. If he wires from here, they'll meet her in +Hillsboro."</p> + +<p>And that was just what happened. Perhaps you may have guessed by this +time that when old Mrs. Lathrop issued orders they were usually obeyed. +As to who the Bridget was who had the scarlet fever, I know no more than +you. I take it, from the name, she was the cook. Unless, indeed, old +Mrs. Lathrop made her up for the occasion, which I think she would have +been quite capable of doing, don't you?</p> + +<p>At any rate, with no more ifs or ands, Elizabeth Ann's satchel was +packed, and Cousin James Lathrop's satchel was packed, and the two set +off together, the big, portly, middle-aged man quite as much afraid of +his mother as Elizabeth Ann was. But he was going to New York, and it is +conceivable that he thought once or twice on the trip that there were +good times in New York as well as business engagements, whereas poor +Elizabeth Ann was being sent straight to the one place in the world +where there were no good times at all. Aunt Harriet had said so, ever so +many times. Poor Elizabeth Ann!</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> +BETSY HOLDS THE REINS</h3> + +<p>You can imagine, perhaps, the dreadful terror of Elizabeth Ann as the +train carried her along toward Vermont and the horrible Putney Farm! It +had happened so quickly—her satchel packed, the telegram sent, the +train caught—that she had not had time to get her wits together, assert +herself, and say that she would <i>not</i> go there! Besides, she had a sinking +notion that perhaps they wouldn't pay any attention to her if she did. +The world had come to an end now that Aunt Frances wasn't there to take +care of her! Even in the most familiar air she could only half breathe +without Aunt Frances! And now she was not even being taken to the Putney +Farm! She was being sent!</p> + +<p>She shrank together in her seat, more and more frightened as the end of +her journey came nearer, and looked out dismally at the winter +landscape, thinking it hideous with its brown bare fields, its brown +bare trees, and the quick-running little streams hurrying along, swollen +with the January thaw which had taken all the snow from the hills. She +had heard her elders say about her so many times that she could not +stand the cold, that she shivered at the very thought of cold weather, +and certainly nothing could look colder than that bleak country into +which the train was now slowly making its way.</p> + +<p>The engine puffed and puffed with great laboring breaths that shook +Elizabeth Ann's diaphragm up and down, but the train moved more and more +slowly. Elizabeth Ann could feel under her feet how the floor of the car +was tipped up as it crept along the steep incline. "Pretty stiff grade +here?" said a passenger to the conductor.</p> + +<p>"You bet!" he assented. "But Hillsboro is the next station and that's at +the top of the hill. We go down after that to Rutland." He turned to +Elizabeth Ann—"Say, little girl, didn't your uncle say you were to get +off at Hillsboro? You'd better be getting your things together."</p> + +<p>Poor Elizabeth Ann's knees knocked against each other with fear of the +strange faces she was to encounter, and when the conductor came to help +her get off, he had to carry the white, trembling child as well as her +satchel. But there was only one strange face there,—not another soul in +sight at the little wooden station. A grim-faced old man in a fur cap +and heavy coat stood by a lumber wagon.</p> + +<p>"This is her, Mr. Putney," said the conductor, touching his cap, and +went back to the train, which went away shrieking for a nearby crossing +and setting the echoes ringing from one mountain to another.</p> + +<p>There was Elizabeth Ann alone with her much-feared Great-uncle Henry. He +nodded to her, and drew out from the bottom of the wagon a warm, large +cape, which he slipped over her shoulders. "The women folks were afraid +you'd git cold drivin'," he explained. He then lifted her high to the +seat, tossed her satchel into the wagon, climbed up himself, and clucked +to his horses. Elizabeth Ann had always before thought it an essential +part of railway journeys to be much kissed at the end and asked a great +many times how you had "stood the trip."</p> + +<p>She sat very still on the high lumber seat, feeling very forlorn and +neglected. Her feet dangled high above the floor of the wagon. She felt +herself to be in the most dangerous place she had ever dreamed of in her +worst dreams. Oh, why wasn't Aunt Frances there to take care of her! It +was just like one of her bad dreams—yes, it was horrible! She would +fall, she would roll under the wheels and be crushed to ... She looked up +at Uncle Henry with the wild, strained eyes of nervous terror which +always brought Aunt Frances to her in a rush to "hear all about it," to +sympathize, to reassure.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry looked down at her soberly, his hard, weather-beaten old +face quite unmoved. "Here, you drive, will you, for a piece?" he said +briefly, putting the reins into her hands, hooking his spectacles over +his ears, and drawing out a stubby pencil and a bit of paper. "I've got +some figgering to do. You pull on the left-hand rein to make 'em go to +the left and t'other way for t'other way, though 'tain't likely we'll +meet any teams."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had been so near one of her wild screams of terror that +now, in spite of her instant absorbed interest in the reins, she gave a +queer little yelp. She was all ready with the explanation, her +conversations with Aunt Frances having made her very fluent in +explanations of her own emotions. She would tell Uncle Henry about how +scared she had been, and how she had just been about to scream and +couldn't keep back that one little ... But Uncle Henry seemed not to have +heard her little howl, or, if he had, didn't think it worth +conversation, for he ... oh, the horses were <i>certainly</i> going to one side! +She hastily decided which was her right hand (she had never been forced +to know it so quickly before) and pulled furiously on that rein. The +horses turned their hanging heads a little, and, miraculously, there +they were in the middle of the road again.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann drew a long breath of relief and pride, and looked to +Uncle Henry for praise. But he was busily setting down figures as though +he were getting his 'rithmetic lesson for the next day and had not +noticed ... Oh, there they were going to the left again! This time, in her +flurry, she made a mistake about which hand was which and pulled wildly +on the left line! The horses docilely walked off the road into a shallow +ditch, the wagon tilted ... help! Why didn't Uncle Henry help! Uncle Henry +continued intently figuring on the back of his envelope.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann, the perspiration starting out on her forehead, pulled on +the other line. The horses turned back up the little slope, the wheel +grated sickeningly against the wagonbox—she was <i>sure</i> they would tip +over! But there! somehow there they were in the road, safe and sound, +with Uncle Henry adding up a column of figures. If he only knew, thought +the little girl, if he only <i>knew</i> the danger he had been in, and how he +had been saved...! But she must think of some way to remember, for sure, +which her right hand was, and avoid that hideous mistake again.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly something inside Elizabeth Ann's head stirred and +moved. It came to her, like a clap, that she needn't know which was +right or left at all. If she just pulled the way she wanted them to +go—the horses would never know whether it was the right or the left +rein!</p> + +<p>It is possible that what stirred inside her head at that moment was her +brain, waking up. She was nine years old, and she was in the third A +grade at school, but that was the first time she had ever had a whole +thought of her very own. At home, Aunt Frances had always known exactly +what she was doing, and had helped her over the hard places before she +even knew they were there; and at school her teachers had been carefully +trained to think faster than the scholars. Somebody had always been +explaining things to Elizabeth Ann so industriously that she had never +found out a single thing for herself before. This was a very small +discovery, but an original one. Elizabeth Ann was as excited about it as +a mother-bird over the first egg that hatches.</p> + +<p>She forgot how afraid she was of Uncle Henry, and poured out to him her +discovery. "It's not right or left that matters!" she ended +triumphantly; "it's which way you want to go!" Uncle Henry looked at her +attentively as she talked, eyeing her sidewise over the top of one +spectacle-glass. When she finished—"Well, now, that's so," he admitted, +and returned to his arithmetic.</p> + +<p>It was a short remark, shorter than any Elizabeth Ann had ever heard +before. Aunt Frances and her teachers always explained matters at +length. But it had a weighty, satisfying ring to it. The little girl +felt the importance of having her statement recognized. She turned back +to her driving.</p> + +<p>The slow, heavy plow horses had stopped during her talk with Uncle +Henry. They stood as still now as though their feet had grown to the +road. Elizabeth Ann looked up at the old man for instructions. But he +was deep in his figures. She had been taught never to interrupt people, +so she sat still and waited for him to tell her what to do.</p> + +<p>But, although they were driving in the midst of a winter thaw, it was a +pretty cold day, with an icy wind blowing down the back of her neck. The +early winter twilight was beginning to fall, and she felt rather empty. +She grew very tired of waiting, and remembered how the grocer's boy at +home had started his horse. Then, summoning all her courage, with an +apprehensive glance at Uncle Henry's arithmetical silence, she slapped +the reins up and down on the horses' backs and made the best imitation +she could of the grocer's boy's cluck. The horses lifted their heads, +they leaned forward, they put one foot before the other ... they were off! +The color rose hot on Elizabeth Ann's happy face. If she had started a +big red automobile she would not have been prouder. For it was the first +thing she had ever done all herself ... every bit ... every smitch! She had +thought of it and she had done it. And it had worked!</p> + +<p>Now for what seemed to her a long, long time she drove, drove so hard +she could think of nothing else. She guided the horses around stones, +she cheered them through freezing mud-puddles of melted snow, she kept +them in the anxiously exact middle of the road. She was quite astonished +when Uncle Henry put his pencil and paper away, took the reins from her +hands, and drove into a yard, on one side of which was a little low +white house and on the other a big red barn. He did not say a word, but +she guessed that this was Putney Farm.</p> + +<p>Two women in gingham dresses and white aprons came out of the house. One +was old and one might be called young, just like Aunt Harriet and Aunt +Frances. But they looked very different from those aunts. The +dark-haired one was very tall and strong-looking, and the white-haired +one was very rosy and fat. They both looked up at the little, thin, +white-faced girl on the high seat, and smiled. "Well, Father, you got +her, I see," said the brown-haired one. She stepped up to the wagon and +held up her arms to the child. "Come on, Betsy, and get some supper," +she said, as though Elizabeth Ann had lived there all her life and had +just driven into town and back.</p> + +<p>And that was the arrival of Elizabeth Ann at Putney Farm.</p> + +<p>The brown-haired one took a long, strong step or two and swung her up on +the porch. "You take her in, Mother," she said. "I'll help Father +unhitch."</p> + +<p>The fat, rosy, white-haired one took Elizabeth Ann's skinny, cold little +hand in her soft warm fat one, and led her along to the open kitchen +door. "I'm your Aunt Abigail," she said. "Your mother's aunt, you know. +And that's your Cousin Ann that lifted you down, and it was your Uncle +Henry that brought you out from town." She shut the door and went on, "I +don't know if your Aunt Harriet ever happened to tell you about us, and +so ..."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann interrupted her hastily, the recollection of all Aunt +Harriet's remarks vividly before her. "Oh yes, oh yes!" she said. "She +always talked about you. She talked about you a lot, she ..." The little +girl stopped short and bit her lip.</p> + +<p>If Aunt Abigail guessed from the expression on Elizabeth Ann's face what +kind of talking Aunt Harriet's had been, she showed it only by a +deepening of the wrinkles all around her eyes. She said, gravely: "Well, +that's a good thing. You know all about us then." She turned to the +stove and took out of the oven a pan of hot baked beans, very brown and +crispy on top (Elizabeth Ann detested beans), and said, over her +shoulder, "Take your things off, Betsy, and hang 'em on that lowest hook +back of the door. That's <i>your</i> hook."</p> + +<p>The little girl fumbled forlornly with the fastenings of her cape and +the buttons of her coat. At home, Aunt Frances or Grace had always taken +off her wraps and put them away for her. When, very sorry for herself, +she turned away from the hook, Aunt Abigail said: "Now you must be cold. +Pull a chair right up here by the stove." She was stepping around +quickly as she put supper on the table. The floor shook under her. She +was one of the fattest people Elizabeth Ann had ever seen. After living +with Aunt Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace the little girl could +scarcely believe her eyes. She stared and stared.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail seemed not to notice this. Indeed, she seemed for the +moment to have forgotten all about the newcomer. Elizabeth Ann sat on +the wooden chair, her feet hanging (she had been taught that it was not +manners to put her feet on the rungs), looking about her with miserable, +homesick eyes. What an ugly, low-ceilinged room, with only a couple of +horrid kerosene lamps for light; and they didn't keep any girl, +evidently; and they were going to eat right in the kitchen like poor +people; and nobody spoke to her or looked at her or asked her how she +had "stood the trip"; and here she was, millions of miles away from Aunt +Frances, without anybody to take care of her. She began to feel the +tight place in her throat which, by thinking about hard, she could +always turn into tears, and presently her eyes began to water.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was not looking at her at all, but she now stopped short in +one of her rushes to the table, set down the butter-plate she was +carrying, and said "There!" as though she had forgotten something. She +stooped—it was perfectly amazing how spry she was—and pulled out from +under the stove a half-grown kitten, very sleepy, yawning and +stretching, and blinking its eyes. "There, Betsy!" said Aunt Abigail, +putting the little yellow and white ball into the child's lap. "There is +one of old Whitey's kittens that didn't get given away last summer, and +she pesters the life out of me. I've got so much to do. When I heard you +were coming, I thought maybe you would take care of her for me. If you +want to, enough to bother to feed her and all, you can have her for your +own."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann bent her thin face over the warm, furry, friendly little +animal. She could not speak. She had always wanted a kitten, but Aunt +Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace had always been sure that cats +brought diphtheria and tonsilitis and all sorts of dreadful diseases to +delicate little girls. She was afraid to move for fear the little thing +would jump down and run away, but as she bent cautiously toward it the +necktie of her middy blouse fell forward and the kitten in the middle of +a yawn struck swiftly at it with a soft paw. Then, still too sleepy to +play, it turned its head and began to lick Elizabeth Ann's hand with a +rough little tongue. Perhaps you can imagine how thrilled the little +girl was at this!</p> + +<p>She held her hand perfectly still until the kitten stopped and began +suddenly washing its own face, and then she put her hands under it and +very awkwardly lifted it up, burying her face in the soft fur. The +kitten yawned again, and from the pink-lined mouth came a fresh, milky +breath. "Oh!" said Elizabeth Ann under her breath. "Oh, you <i>darling</i>!" +The kitten looked at her with bored, speculative eyes.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann looked up now at Aunt Abigail and said, "What is its name, +please?" But the old woman was busy turning over a griddle full of +pancakes and did not hear. On the train Elizabeth Ann had resolved not +to call these hateful relatives by the same name she had for dear Aunt +Frances, but she now forgot that resolution and said, again, "Oh, Aunt +Abigail, what is its name?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail faced her blankly. "Name?" she asked. "Whose ... oh, the +kitten's? Goodness, child, I stopped racking my brain for kitten names +sixty years ago. Name it yourself. It's yours."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had already named it in her own mind, the name she had +always thought she <i>would</i> call a kitten by, if she ever had one. It was +Eleanor, the prettiest name she knew.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail pushed a pitcher toward her. "There's the cat's saucer +under the sink. Don't you want to give it some milk?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann got down from her chair, poured some milk into the saucer, +and called: "Here, Eleanor! Here, Eleanor!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail looked at her sharply out of the corner of her eye and her +lips twitched, but a moment later her face was immovably grave as she +carried the last plate of pancakes to the table.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann sat on her heels for a long time, watching the kitten lap +the milk, and she was surprised, when she stood up, to see that Cousin +Ann and Uncle Henry had come in, very red-cheeked from the cold air.</p> + +<p>"Well, folks," said Aunt Abigail, "don't you think we've done some +lively stepping around, Betsy and I, to get supper all on the table for +you?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stared. What did Aunt Abigail mean? She hadn't done a +thing about getting supper! But nobody made any comment, and they all +took their seats and began to eat. Elizabeth Ann was astonishingly +hungry, and she thought she could never get enough of the creamed +potatoes, cold ham, hot cocoa, and pancakes. She was very much relieved +that her refusal of beans caused no comment. Aunt Frances had always +tried very hard to make her eat beans because they have so much protein +in them, and growing children need protein. Elizabeth Ann had heard this +said so many times she could have repeated it backward, but it had never +made her hate beans any the less. However, nobody here seemed to know +this, and Elizabeth Ann kept her knowledge to herself. They had also +evidently never heard how delicate her digestion was, for she never saw +anything like the number of pancakes they let her eat. <i>all she wanted</i>! +She had never heard of such a thing!</p> + +<p>They still did not ask her how she had "stood the trip." They did not +indeed ask her much of anything or pay very much attention to her beyond +filling her plate as fast as she emptied it. In the middle of the meal +Eleanor came, jumped into her lap, and curled down, purring. After this +Elizabeth Ann kept one hand on the little soft ball, handling her fork +with the other.</p> + +<p>After supper—well, Elizabeth Ann never knew what did happen after +supper until she felt somebody lifting her and carrying her upstairs. It +was Cousin Ann, who carried her as lightly as though she were a baby, +and who said, as she sat down on the floor in a slant-ceilinged bedroom, +"You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you're +pretty tired."</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four +posts, and a curtain around the top. She was partly undressed, and was +undoing her hair and brushing it out. It was very curly and all fluffed +out in a shining white fuzz around her fat, pink face, full of soft +wrinkles; but in a moment she was braiding it up again and putting on a +tight white nightcap, which she tied under her chin.</p> + +<p>"We got the word about your coming so late," said Cousin Ann, "that we +didn't have time to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you're +going to sleep in here for a while. The bed's big enough for two, I +guess, even if they are as big as you and Mother."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stared again. What queer things they said here. She wasn't +<i>nearly</i> as big as Aunt Abigail!</p> + +<p>"Mother, did you put Shep out?" asked Cousin Ann; and when Aunt Abigail +said, "No! There! I forgot to!" Cousin Ann went away; and that was the +last of <i>her</i>. They certainly believed in being saving of their words at +Putney Farm.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann began to undress. She was only half-awake; and that made +her feel only about half her age, which wasn't very great, the whole of +it, and she felt like just crooking her arm over her eyes and giving up! +She was too forlorn! She had never slept with anybody before, and she +had heard ever so many times how bad it was for children to sleep with +grown-ups. An icy wind rattled the windows and puffed in around the +loose old casings. On the window-sill lay a little wreath of snow. +Elizabeth Ann shivered and shook on her thin legs, undressed in a hurry, +and slipped into her night-dress. She felt just as cold inside as out, +and never was more utterly miserable than in that strange, ugly little +room, with that strange, queer, fat old woman. She was even too +miserable to cry, and that is saying a great deal for Elizabeth Ann!</p> + +<p>She got into bed first, because Aunt Abigail said she was going to keep +the candle lighted for a while and read. "And anyhow," she said, "I'd +better sleep on the outside to keep you from rolling out."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann and Aunt Abigail lay very still for a long time, Aunt +Abigail reading out of a small, worn old book. Elizabeth Ann could see +its title, "Essays of Emerson." A book with, that name had always laid +on the center table in Aunt Harriet's house, but that copy was all new +and shiny, and Elizabeth Ann had never seen anybody look inside it. It +was a very dull-looking book, with no pictures and no conversation. The +little girl lay on her back, looking up at the cracks in the plaster +ceiling and watching the shadows sway and dance as the candle flickered +in the gusts of cold air. She herself began to feel a soft, pervasive +warmth. Aunt Abigail's great body was like a stove.</p> + +<p>It was very, very quiet, quieter than any place Elizabeth Ann had ever +known, except church, because a trolley-line ran past Aunt Harriet's +house and even at night there were always more or less hangings and +rattlings. Here there was not a single sound except the soft, whispery +noise when Aunt Abigail turned over a page as she read steadily and +silently forward in her book. Elizabeth Ann turned her head so that she +could see the round, rosy old face, full of soft wrinkles, and the calm, +steady old eyes which were fixed on the page. And as she lay there in +the warm bed, watching that quiet face, something very queer began to +happen to Elizabeth Ann. She felt as though a tight knot inside her were +slowly being untied. She felt—what was it she felt? There are no words +for it. From deep within her something rose up softly ... she drew one or +two long, half-sobbing breaths....</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;"> +<a name="do_you_know" id="do_you_know"></a> +<img src="images/do_you_know_sml.jpg" width="358" height="550" alt=""Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think it's going to +be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think it's going to +be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."</span> +</div> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laid down her book and looked over at the child. "Do you +know," she said, in a conversational tone, "do you know, I think it's +going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."</p> + +<p>Oh, then the tight knot in the little unwanted girl's heart was loosened +indeed! It all gave way at once, and Elizabeth Ann burst suddenly into +hot tears—yes, I know I said I would not tell you any more about her +crying; but these tears were very different from any she had ever shed +before. And they were the last, too, for a long, long time.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail said, "Well, well!" and moving over in bed took the little +weeping girl into her arms. She did not say another word then, but she +put her soft, withered old cheek close against Elizabeth Ann's, till the +sobs began to grow less, and then she said: "I hear your kitty crying +outside the door. Shall I let her in? I expect she'd like to sleep with +you. I guess there's room for three of us."</p> + +<p>She got out of bed as she spoke and walked across the room to the door. +The floor shook under her great bulk, and the peak of her nightcap made +a long, grotesque shadow. But as she came back with the kitten in her +arms Elizabeth Ann saw nothing funny in her looks. She gave Eleanor to +the little girl and got into bed again. "There, now, I guess we're ready +for the night," she said. "You put the kitty on the other side of you so +she won't fall out of bed."</p> + +<p>She blew the light out and moved over a little closer to Elizabeth. Ann, +who immediately was enveloped in that delicious warmth. The kitten +curled up under the little girl's chin. Between her and the terrors of +the dark room loomed the rampart of Aunt Abigail's great body.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann drew a long, long breath ... and when she opened her eyes +the sun was shining in at the window.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> +A SHORT MORNING</h3> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was gone, Eleanor was gone. The room was quite empty except +for the bright sunshine pouring in through the small-paned windows. +Elizabeth Ann stretched and yawned and looked about her. What funny +wall-paper it was—so old-fashioned looking! The picture was of a blue +river and a brown mill, with green willow-trees over it, and a man with +sacks on his horse's back stood in front of the mill. This picture was +repeated a great many times, all over the paper; and in the corner, +where it hadn't come out even, they had had to cut it right down the +middle of the horse. It was very curious-looking. She stared at it a +long time, waiting for somebody to tell her when to get up. At home Aunt +Frances always told her, and helped her get dressed. But here nobody +came. She discovered that the heat came from a hole in the floor near +the bed, which opened down into the room below. From it came a warm +breath of baking bread and a muffled thump once in a while.</p> + +<p>The sun rose higher and higher, and Elizabeth Ann grew hungrier and +hungrier. Finally it occurred to her that it was not absolutely +necessary to have somebody tell her to get up. She reached for her +clothes and began to dress. When she had finished she went out into the +hall, and with a return of her aggrieved, abandoned feeling (you must +remember that her stomach was very empty) she began to try to find her +way downstairs. She soon found the steps, went down them one at a time, +and pushed open the door at the foot. Cousin Ann, the brown-haired one, +was ironing near the stove. She nodded and smiled as the child came into +the room, and said, "Well, you must feel rested!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I haven't been asleep!" explained Elizabeth Ann. "I was waiting for +somebody to tell me to get up."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Cousin Ann, opening her black eyes a little. "<i>Were</i> you?" She +said no more than this, but Elizabeth Ann decided hastily that she would +not add, as she had been about to, that she was also waiting for +somebody to help her dress and do her hair. As a matter of fact, she had +greatly enjoyed doing her own hair—the first time she had ever tried +it. It had never occurred to Aunt Frances that her little baby-girl had +grown up enough to be her own hairdresser, nor had it occurred to +Elizabeth Ann that this might be possible. But as she struggled with the +snarls she had had a sudden wild idea of doing it a different way from +the pretty fashion Aunt Frances always followed. Elizabeth Ann had +always secretly envied a girl in her class whose hair was all tied back +from her face, with one big knot in her ribbon at the back of her neck. +It looked so grown-up. And this morning she had done hers that way, +turning her neck till it ached, so that she could see the coveted tight +effect at the back. And still—aren't little girls queer?—although she +had enjoyed doing her own hair, she was very much inclined to feel hurt +because Cousin Ann had not come to do it for her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<a name="doing_hair" id="doing_hair"></a> +<a href="images/doing_hair.jpg"> +<img src="images/doing_hair_sml.jpg" width="550" height="415" alt="She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair." title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.</span> +</div> + +<p>Cousin Ann set her iron down with the soft thump which Elizabeth Ann had +heard upstairs. She began folding a napkin, and said: "Now reach +yourself a bowl off the shelf yonder. The oatmeal's in that kettle on +the stove and the milk is in the blue pitcher. If you want a piece of +bread and butter, here's a new loaf just out of the oven, and the +butter's in that brown crock."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann followed these instructions and sat down before this +quickly assembled breakfast in a very much surprised silence. At home it +took the girl more than half an hour to get breakfast and set the table, +and then she had to wait on them besides. She began to pour the milk out +of the pitcher and stopped suddenly. "Oh, I'm afraid I've taken more +than my share!" she said apologetically.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann looked up from her rapidly moving iron, and said, in an +astonished voice: "Your share? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"My share of the quart," explained Elizabeth Ann. At home they bought a +quart of milk and a cup of cream every day, and they were all very +conscientious about not taking more than their due share.</p> + +<p>"Good land, child, take all the <i>milk</i> you want!" said Cousin Ann, as +though she found something shocking in what the little girl had just +said. Elizabeth Ann thought to herself that she spoke as though milk ran +out of a faucet, like water.</p> + +<p>She was very fond of milk, and she made a very good breakfast as she sat +looking about the low-ceilinged room. It was unlike any room she had +ever seen.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, the kitchen, and yet it didn't seem possible that the +same word could be applied to that room and the small, dark cubby-hole +which had been Grace's asthmatical kingdom. This room was very long and +narrow, and all along one side were windows with white, ruffled curtains +drawn back at the sides, and with small, shining panes of glass, through +which the sun poured a golden flood of light on a long shelf of potted +plants that took the place of a window-sill. The shelf was covered with +shining white oil-cloth, the pots were of clean reddish brown, the +sturdy, stocky plants of bright green with clear red-and-white flowers. +Elizabeth Ann's eyes wandered all over the kitchen from the low, white +ceiling to the clean, bare wooden floor, but they always came back to +those sunny windows. Once, back in the big brick school-building, as she +had sat drooping her thin shoulders over her desk, some sort of a +procession had gone by with a brass band playing a lively air. For some +queer reason, every time she now glanced at that sheet of sunlight and +the bright flowers she had a little of the same thrill which had +straightened her back and gone up and down her spine while the band was +playing. Possibly Aunt Frances was right, after all, and Elizabeth Ann +<i>was</i> a very impressionable child. I wonder, by the way, if anybody ever +saw a child who wasn't.</p> + +<p>At one end, the end where Cousin Ann was ironing, stood the kitchen +stove, gleaming black, with a tea-kettle humming away on it, a big +hot-water boiler near it, and a large kitchen cabinet with lots of +drawers and shelves and hooks and things. Beyond that, in the middle of +the room, was the table where they had had supper last night, and at +which the little girl now sat eating her very late breakfast; and beyond +that, at the other end of the room, was another table with an old +dark-red cashmere shawl on it for a cover. A large lamp stood in the +middle of this, a bookcase near it, two or three rocking-chairs around +it, and back of it, against the wall, was a wide sofa covered with +bright cretonne, with three bright pillows. Something big and black and +woolly was lying on this sofa, snoring loudly. As Cousin Ann saw the +little girl's fearful glance alight on this she explained: "That's Step, +our old dog. Doesn't he make an awful noise! Mother says, when she +happens to be alone here in the evening, it's real company to hear Shep +snore—as good as having a man in the house."</p> + +<p>Although this did not seem at all a sensible remark to Elizabeth Ann, +who thought soberly to herself that she didn't see why snoring made a +dog as good as a man, still she was acute enough (for she was really +quite an intelligent little girl) to feel that it belonged in the same +class of remarks as one or two others she had noted as "queer" in the +talk at Putney Farm last night. This variety of talk was entirely new to +her, nobody in Aunt Harriet's conscientious household ever making +anything but plain statements of fact. It was one of the "queer Putney +ways" which Aunt Harriet had forgotten to mention. It is possible that +Aunt Harriet had never noticed it.</p> + +<p>When Elizabeth Ann finished her breakfast, Cousin Ann made three +suggestions, using exactly the same accent for them all. She said: +"Wouldn't you better wash your dishes up now before they get sticky? And +don't you want one of those red apples from the dish on the side table? +And then maybe you'd like to look around the house so's to know where +you are." Elizabeth Ann had never washed a dish in all her life, and she +had always thought that nobody but poor, ignorant people, who couldn't +afford to hire girls, did such things. And yet (it was odd) she did not +feel like saying this to Cousin Ann, who stood there so straight in her +gingham dress and apron, with her clear, bright eyes and red cheeks. +Besides this feeling, Elizabeth Ann was overcome with embarrassment at +the idea of undertaking a new task in that casual way. How in the world +<i>did</i> you wash dishes? She stood rooted to the spot, irresolute, horribly +shy, and looking, though she did not know it, very clouded and sullen. +Cousin Ann said briskly, holding an iron up to her cheek to see if it +was hot enough: "Just take them over to the sink there and hold them +under the hot-water faucet. They'll be clean in no time. The dish-towels +are those hanging on the rack over the stove."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann moved promptly over to the sink, as though Cousin Ann's +words had shoved her there, and before she knew it, her saucer, cup, and +spoon were clean and she was wiping them on a dry checked towel. "The +spoon goes in the side-table drawer with the other silver, and the +saucer and cup in those shelves there behind the glass doors where the +china belongs," continued Cousin Ann, thumping hard with her iron on a +napkin and not looking up at all, "and don't forget your apple as you go +out. Those Northern Spies are just getting to be good about now. When +they first come off the tree in October you could shoot them through an +oak plank."</p> + +<p>Now Elizabeth Ann knew that this was a foolish thing to say, since of +course an apple never could go through a board; but something that had +always been sound asleep in her brain woke up a little, little bit and +opened one eye. For it occurred dimly to Elizabeth Ann that this was a +rather funny way of saying that Northern Spies were very hard when you +first pick them in the autumn. She had to figure it out for herself very +slowly, because it was a new idea to her, and she was half-way through +her tour of inspection of the house before there glimmered on her lips, +in a faint smile, the first recognition of humor in all her life. She +felt a momentary impulse to call down to Cousin Ann that she saw the +point, but before she had taken a single step toward the head of the +stairs she had decided not to do this. Cousin Ann, with her bright, dark +eyes, and her straight back, and her long arms, and her way of speaking +as though it never occurred to her that you wouldn't do just as she +said—Elizabeth Ann was not very sure that she liked Cousin Ann, and she +was very sure that she was afraid of her.</p> + +<p>So she went on, walking from one room to another, industriously eating +the red apple, the biggest she had ever seen. It was the best, too, with +its crisp, white flesh and the delicious, sour-sweet juice which made +Elizabeth Ann feel with each mouthful like hurrying to take another. She +did not think much more of the other rooms in the house than she had of +the kitchen. There were no draped "throws" over anything; there were no +lace curtains at the windows, just dotted Swiss like the kitchen; all +the ceilings were very low; the furniture was all of dark wood and very +old-looking; what few rugs there were were of bright-colored rags; the +mirrors were queer and old, with funny old pictures at the top; there +wasn't a brass bed in any of the bedrooms, just old wooden ones with +posts, and curtains round the tops; and there was not a single plush +portiere in the parlor, whereas at Aunt Harriet's there had been two +sets for that one room.</p> + +<p>She was relieved at the absence of a piano and secretly rejoiced that +she would not need to practice. In her heart she had not liked her music +lessons at all, but she had never dreamed of not accepting them from +Aunt Frances as she accepted everything else. Also she had liked to hear +Aunt Frances boast about how much better she could play than other +children of her age.</p> + +<p>She was downstairs by this time, and, opening a door out of the parlor, +found herself back in the kitchen, the long line of sunny windows and +the bright flowers giving her that quick little thrill again. Cousin Ann +looked up from her ironing, nodded, and said: "All through? You'd better +come in and get warmed up. Those rooms get awfully cold these January +days. Winters we mostly use this room so's to get the good of the +kitchen stove." She added after a moment, during which Elizabeth Ann +stood by the stove, warming her hands: "There's one place you haven't +seen yet—the milk-room. Mother's down there now, churning. That's the +door—the middle one."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had been wondering and wondering where in the world Aunt +Abigail was. So she stepped quickly to the door, and went dawn the cold +dark stairs she found there. At the bottom was a door, locked +apparently, for she could find no fastening. She heard steps inside, the +door was briskly cast open, and she almost fell into the arms of Aunt +Abigail, who caught her as she stumbled forward, saying: "Well, I've +been expectin' you down here for a long time. I never saw a little girl +yet who didn't like to watch butter-making. Don't you love to run the +butter-worker over it? I do, myself, for all I'm seventy-two!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it," said Elizabeth Ann. "I don't know what +you make butter out of. We always bought ours."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>for goodness</i>' <i>sakes</i>!" said Aunt Abigail. She turned and called +across the room, "Henry, did you ever! Here's Betsy saying she don't +know what we make butter out of! She actually never saw anybody making +butter!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was sitting down, near the window, turning the handle to a +small barrel swung between two uprights. He stopped for a moment and +considered Aunt Abigail's remark with the same serious attention he had +given to Elizabeth Ann's discovery about left and right. Then he began +to turn the churn over and over again and said, peaceably: "Well, +Mother, you never saw anybody laying asphalt pavement, I'll warrant you! +And I suppose Betsy knows all about that."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann's spirits rose. She felt very superior indeed. "Oh, yes," +she assured them, "I know <i>all</i> about that! Didn't you ever see anybody +doing that? Why, I've seen them <i>hundreds</i> of times! Every day as we went +to school they were doing over the whole pavement for blocks along +there."</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail and Uncle Henry looked at her with interest, and Aunt +Abigail said: "Well, now, think of that! Tell us all about it!"</p> + +<p>"Why, there's a big black sort of wagon," began Elizabeth Ann, "and they +run it up and down and pour out the black stuff on the road. And that's +all there is to it." She stopped, rather abruptly, looking uneasy. Uncle +Henry inquired: "Now there's one thing I've always wanted to know. How +do they keep that stuff from hardening on them? How do they keep it +hot?"</p> + +<p>The little girl looked blank. "Why, a fire, I suppose," she faltered, +searching her memory desperately and finding there only a dim +recollection of a red glow somewhere connected with the familiar scene +at which she had so often looked with unseeing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Of course a fire," agreed Uncle Henry. "But what do they burn in it, +coke or coal or wood or charcoal? And how do they get any draft to keep +it going?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann shook her head. "I never noticed," she said.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail asked her now, "What do they do to the road before they +pour it on?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" said Elizabeth Ann. "I didn't know they did anything."</p> + +<p>"Well, they can't pour it right on a dirt road, can they?" asked Aunt +Abigail. "Don't they put down cracked stone or something?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann looked down at her toes. "I never noticed," she said.</p> + +<p>"I wonder how long it takes for it to harden?" said Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"I never noticed," said Elizabeth Ann, in a small voice.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry said, "Oh!" and stopped asking questions. Aunt Abigail +turned away and put a stick of wood in the stove. Elizabeth Ann did not +feel very superior now, and when Aunt Abigail said, "Now the butter's +beginning to come. Don't you want to watch and see everything I do, so's +you can answer if anybody asks you how butter is made?" Elizabeth Ann +understood perfectly what was in Aunt's Abigail's mind, and gave to the +process of butter-making a more alert and aroused attention than she had +ever before given to anything. It was so interesting, too, that in no +time she forgot why she was watching, and was absorbed in the +fascinations of the dairy for their own sake.</p> + +<p>She looked in the churn as Aunt Abigail unscrewed the top, and saw the +thick, sour cream separating into buttermilk and tiny golden particles. +"It's gathering," said Aunt Abigail, screwing the lid back on. +"Father'll churn it a little more till it really comes. And you and I +will scald the wooden butter things and get everything ready. You'd +better take that apron there to keep your dress clean."</p> + +<p>Wouldn't Aunt Frances have been astonished if she could have looked in +on Elizabeth Ann that very first morning of her stay at the hateful +Putney Farm and have seen her wrapped in a gingham apron, her face +bright with interest, trotting here and there in the stone-floored +milk-room! She was allowed the excitement of pulling out the plug from +the bottom of the churn, and dodged back hastily to escape the gush of +buttermilk spouting into the pail held by Aunt Abigail. And she poured +the water in to wash the butter, and screwed on the top herself, and, +again all herself (for Uncle Henry had gone off as soon as the butter +had "come"), swung the barrel back and forth six or seven times to swish +the water all through the particles of butter. She even helped Aunt +Abigail scoop out the great yellow lumps—her imagination had never +conceived of so much butter in all the world! Then Aunt Abigail let her +run the curiously shaped wooden butter-worker back and forth over the +butter, squeezing out the water, and then pile it up again with her +wooden paddle into a mound of gold. She weighed out the salt needed on +the scales, and was very much surprised to find that there really is +such a thing as an ounce. She had never met it before outside the pages +of her arithmetic book and she didn't know it lived anywhere else.</p> + +<p>After the salt was worked in she watched Aunt Abigail's deft, wrinkled +old hands make pats and rolls. It looked like the greatest fun, and too +easy for anything; and when Aunt Abigail asked her if she wouldn't like +to make up the last half-pound into a pat for dinner, she took up the +wooden paddle confidently. And then she got one of the surprises that +Putney Farm seemed to have for her. She discovered that her hands didn't +seem to belong to her at all, that her fingers were all thumbs, that she +didn't seem to know in the least beforehand how hard a stroke she was +going to give nor which way her fingers were going to go. It was, as a +matter of fact, the first time Elizabeth Ann had tried to do anything +with her hands except to write and figure and play on the piano, and +naturally she wasn't very well acquainted with them. She stopped in +dismay, looking at the shapeless, battered heap of butter before her and +holding out her hands as though they were not part of her.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed, took up the paddle, and after three or four passes +the butter was a smooth, yellow ball. "Well, that brings it all back to +me!" she said? "when <i>I</i> was a little girl, when my grandmother first +let me try to make a pat. I was about five years old—my! what a mess I +made of it! And I remember? doesn't it seem funny—that <i>she</i> laughed and +said her Great-aunt Elmira had taught her how to handle butter right +here in this very milk-room. Let's see, Grandmother was born the year +the Declaration of Independence was signed. That's quite a while ago, +isn't it? But butter hasn't changed much, I guess, nor little girls +either."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann listened to this statement with a very queer, startled +expression on her face, as though she hadn't understood the words. Now +for a moment she stood staring up in Aunt Abigail's face, and yet not +seeing her at all, because she was thinking so hard. She was thinking! +"Why! There were real people living when the Declaration of Independence +was signed—real people, not just history people—old women teaching +little girls how to do things—right in this very room, on this very +floor—and the Declaration of Independence just signed!"</p> + +<p>To tell the honest truth, although she had passed a very good +examination in the little book on American history they had studied in +school, Elizabeth Ann had never to that moment had any notion that there +ever had been really and truly any Declaration of Independence at all. +It had been like the ounce, living exclusively inside her schoolbooks +for little girls to be examined about. And now here Aunt Abigail, +talking about a butter-pat, had brought it to life!</p> + +<p>Of course all this only lasted a moment, because it was such a new idea! +She soon lost track of what she was thinking of; she rubbed her eyes as +though she were coming out of a dream, she thought, confusedly: "What +did butter have to do with the Declaration of Independence? Nothing, of +course! It couldn't!" and the whole impression seemed to pass out of her +mind. But it was an impression which was to come again and again during +the next few months.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> +BETSY GOES TO SCHOOL</h3> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was very much surprised to hear Cousin Ann's voice +calling, "Dinner!" down the stairs. It did not seem possible that the +whole morning had gone by. "Here," said Aunt Abigail, "just put that pat +on a plate, will you, and take it upstairs as you go. I've got all I can +do to haul my own two hundred pounds up, without any half-pound of +butter into the bargain." The little girl smiled at this, though she did +not exactly know why, and skipped up the stairs proudly with her butter.</p> + +<p>Dinner was smoking on the table, which was set in the midst of the great +pool of sunlight. A very large black-and-white dog, with a great bushy +tail, was walking around and around the table, sniffing the air. He +looked as big as a bear to Elizabeth Ann; and as he walked his great red +tongue hung out of his mouth and his white teeth gleamed horribly. +Elizabeth Ann shrank back in terror, clutching her plate of butter to +her breast with tense fingers. Cousin. Ann said, over her shoulder: "Oh, +bother! There's old Shep, got up to pester us begging for scraps! Shep! +You go and lie down this minute!" To Elizabeth Ann's astonishment and +immense relief, the great animal turned, drooping his head sadly, walked +back across the floor, got upon the couch again, and laid his head down +on one paw very forlornly, turning up the whites of his eyes meekly at +Cousin Ann.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail, who had just pulled herself up the stairs, panting, said, +between laughing and puffing: "I'm glad I'm not an animal on this farm. +Ann does boss them around so." "Well, SOMEbody has to!" said Cousin Ann, +advancing on the table with a platter. This proved to have chicken +fricassee on it, and Elizabeth Ann's heart melted in her at the smell. +She loved chicken gravy on hot biscuits beyond anything in the world, +but chickens are so expensive when you buy them in the market that Aunt +Harriet hadn't had them very often for dinner. And there was a plate of +biscuits, golden brown, just coming out of the oven! She sat down very +quickly, her mouth watering, and attacked with extreme haste the big +plateful of food which Cousin Ann passed her.</p> + +<p>At Aunt Harriet's she had always been aware that everybody watched her +anxiously as she ate, and she had heard so much about her light appetite +that she felt she must live up to her reputation, and had a very natural +and human hesitation about eating all she wanted when there happened to +be something she liked very much. But nobody here knew that she "only +ate enough to keep a bird alive," and that her "appetite was <i>so</i> +capricious!" Nor did anybody notice her while she stowed away the +chicken and gravy and hot biscuits and currant jelly and baked potatoes +and apple pie—when did Elizabeth Ann ever eat such a meal before! She +actually felt her belt grow tight.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the meal Cousin Ann got up to answer the telephone, +which was in the next room. The instant the door had closed behind her +Uncle Henry leaned forward, tapped Elizabeth Ann on the shoulder, and +nodded toward the sofa. His eyes were twinkling, and as for Aunt Abigail +she began to laugh silently, shaking all over, her napkin at her mouth +to stifle the sound. Elizabeth Ann turned wonderingly and saw the old +dog cautiously and noiselessly letting himself down from the sofa, one +ear cocked rigidly in the direction of Cousin Ann's voice in the next +room. "The old tyke!" said Uncle Henry. "He always sneaks up to the +table to be fed if Ann goes out for a minute. Here, Betsy, you're +nearest, give him this piece of skin from the chicken neck." The big dog +padded forward across the room, evidently in such a state of terror +about Cousin Ann that Elizabeth Ann felt for him. She had a +fellow-feeling about that relative of hers. Also it was impossible to be +afraid of so abjectly meek and guilty an animal. As old Shep came up to +her, poking his nose inquiringly on her lap, she shrinkingly held out +the big piece of skin, and though she jumped back at the sudden snap and +gobbling gulp with which the old dog greeted the tidbit, she could not +but sympathize with his evident enjoyment of it. He waved his bushy tail +gratefully, cocked his head on one side, and, his ears standing up at +attention, his eyes glistening greedily, he gave a little, begging +whine. "Oh, he's asking for more!" cried Elizabeth Ann, surprised to see +how plainly she could understand dog-talk. "Quick, Uncle Henry, give me +another piece!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry rapidly transferred to her plate a wing-bone from his own, +and Aunt Abigail, with one deft swoop, contributed the neck from the +platter. As fast as she could, Elizabeth Ann fed these to Shep, who +woofed them down at top speed, the bones crunching loudly under his +strong, white teeth. How he did enjoy it! It did your heart good to see +his gusto!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<a name="asking_more" id="asking_more"></a> +<a href="images/asking_more.jpg"> +<img src="images/asking_more_sml.jpg" width="550" height="426" alt=""Oh, he's asking for more'" cried Elizabeth Ann" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"Oh, he's asking for more'" cried Elizabeth Ann</span> +</div> + +<p>There was the sound of the telephone receiver being hung up in the next +room—and everybody acted at once. Aunt Abigail began drinking +innocently out of her coffee-cup, only her laughing old eyes showing +over the rim; Uncle Henry buttered a slice of bread with a grave face, +as though he were deep in conjectures about who would be the next +President; and as for old Shep, he made one plunge across the room, his +toe-nails clicking rapidly on the bare floor, sprang up on the couch, +and when Cousin Ann opened the door and came in he was lying in exactly +the position in which she had left him, his paw stretched out, his head +laid on it, his brown eyes turned up meekly so that the whites showed.</p> + +<p>I've told you what these three did, but I haven't told you yet what +Elizabeth Ann did. And it is worth telling. As Cousin Ann stepped in, +glancing suspiciously from her sober-faced and abstracted parents to the +lamb-like innocence of old Shep, little Elizabeth Ann burst into a shout +of laughter. It's worth telling about, because, so far as I know, that +was the first time she had ever laughed out heartily in all her life. +For my part, I'm half surprised to know that she knew how.</p> + +<p>Of course, when she laughed, Aunt Abigail had to laugh too, setting down +her coffee-cup and showing all the funny wrinkles in her face screwed up +hard with fun; and that made Uncle Henry laugh, and then Cousin Ann +laughed and said, as she sat down, "You are bad children, the whole four +of you!" And old Shep, seeing the state of things, stopped pretending to +be meek, jumped down, and came lumbering over to the table, wagging his +tail and laughing too; you know that good, wide dog-smile! He put his +head on Elizabeth Ann's lap again and she patted it and lifted up one of +his big black ears. She had quite forgotten that she was terribly afraid +of big dogs.</p> + +<p>After dinner Cousin Ann looked up at the clock and said: "My goodness! +Betsy'll be late for school if she doesn't start right off." She +explained to the child, aghast at this sudden thunderclap, "I let you +sleep this morning as long as you wanted to, because you were so tired +from your journey. But of course there's no reason for missing the +afternoon session."</p> + +<p>As Elizabeth Ann continued sitting perfectly still, frozen with alarm, +Cousin Ann jumped up briskly, got the little coat and cap, helped her +up, and began inserting the child's arms into the sleeves. She pulled +the cap well down over Elizabeth Ann's ears, felt in the pocket and +pulled out the mittens. "There," she said, holding them out, "you'd +better put them on before you go out, for it's a real cold day." As she +led the stupefied little girl along toward the door Aunt Abigail came +after them and put a big sugar-cookie into the child's hand. "Maybe +you'll like to eat that for your recess time," she said. "I always did +when I went to school."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann's hand closed automatically about the cookie, but she +scarcely heard what was said. She felt herself to be in a bad dream. +Aunt Frances had never, no <i>never</i>, let her go to school alone, and on the +first day of the year always took her to the new teacher and introduced +her and told the teacher how sensitive she was and how hard to +understand; and then she stayed there for an hour or two till Elizabeth +Ann got used to things! She could not face a whole new school all +alone—oh, she couldn't, she wouldn't! She couldn't! Horrors! Here she +was in the front hall—she was on the porch! Cousin Ann was saying: "Now +run along, child. Straight down the road till the first turn to the +left, and there in the cross-roads, there you are." And now the front +door closed behind her, the path stretched before her to the road, and +the road led down the hill the way Cousin Ann had pointed. Elizabeth +Ann's feet began to move forward and carried her down the path, although +she was still crying out to herself, "I can't! I won't! I can't!"</p> + +<p>Are you wondering why Elizabeth Ann didn't turn right around, open the +front door, walk in, and say, "I can't! I won't! I can't!" to Cousin +Ann?</p> + +<p>The answer to that question is that she didn't do it because Cousin Ann +was Cousin Ann. And there's more in that than you think! In fact, there +is a mystery in it that nobody has ever solved, not even the greatest +scientists and philosophers, although, like all scientists and +philosophers, they think they have gone a long way toward explaining +something they don't understand by calling it a long name. The long name +is "personality," and what it means nobody knows, but it is perhaps the +very most important thing in the world for all that. And yet we know +only one or two things about it. We know that anybody's personality is +made up of the sum total of all the actions and thoughts and desires of +his life. And we know that though there aren't any words or any figures +in any language to set down that sum total accurately, still it is one +of the first things that everybody knows about anybody else. And that is +really all we know!</p> + +<p>So I can't tell you why Elizabeth Ann did not go back and cry and sob +and say she couldn't and she wouldn't and she couldn't, as she would +certainly have done at Aunt Harriet's. You remember that I could not +even tell you why it was that, as the little fatherless and motherless +girl lay in bed looking at Aunt Abigail's old face, she should feel so +comforted and protected that she must needs break out crying. No, all I +can say is that it was because Aunt Abigail was Aunt Abigail. But +perhaps it may occur to you that it's rather a good idea to keep a sharp +eye on your "personality," whatever that is! It might be very handy, you +know, to have a personality like Cousin Ann's which sent Elizabeth Ann's +feet down the path; or perhaps you would prefer one like Aunt Abigail's. +Well, take your choice.</p> + +<p>You must not, of course, think for a moment that Elizabeth Ann had the +slightest <i>intention</i> of obeying Cousin Ann. No indeed! Nothing was +farther from her mind as her feet carried her along the path and into +the road. In her mind was nothing but rebellion and fear and anger and +oh, such hurt feelings! She turned sick at the very thought of facing +all the staring, curious faces in the playground turned on the new +scholar as she had seen them at home! She would never, never do it! She +would walk around all the afternoon, and then go back and tell Cousin +Ann that she couldn't! She would <i>explain</i> to her how Aunt Frances never +let her go out of doors without a loving hand to cling to. She would +<i>explain</i> to her how Aunt Frances always took care of her! ... it was easier +to think about what she would say and do and explain, away from Cousin +Ann, than it was to say and do it before those black eyes. Aunt +Frances's eyes were soft, light blue.</p> + +<p>Oh, how she wanted Aunt Frances to take care of her! Nobody cared a +thing about her! Nobody <i>understood</i> her but Aunt Frances! She wouldn't go +back at all to Putney Farm. She would just walk on and on till she was +lost, and the night would come and she would lie down and freeze to +death, and then wouldn't Cousin Ann feel ... Someone called to her, +"Isn't this Betsy?"</p> + +<p>She looked up astonished. A young girl in a gingham dress and a white +apron like those at Putney Farm stood in front of a tiny, square +building, like a toy house. "Isn't this Betsy?" asked the young girl +again. "Your Cousin Ann said you were coming to school today and I've +been looking out for you. But I saw you going right by, and I ran out to +stop you."</p> + +<p>"Why, where <i>is</i> the school?" asked Betsy, staring around for a big brick, +four-story building.</p> + +<p>The young girl laughed and held out her hand. "This is the school," she +said, "and I am the teacher, and you'd better come right in, for it's +time to begin."</p> + +<p>She led Betsy into a low-ceilinged room with geraniums at the windows, +where about a dozen children of different ages sat behind their desks. +At the first sight of them Betsy blushed crimson with fright and +shyness, and hung down her head; but, looking out the corners of her +eyes, she saw that they, too, were all very red-faced and scared-looking +and hung down their heads, looking at her shyly out of the corners of +their eyes. She was so surprised by this that she forgot all about +herself and looked inquiringly at the teacher.</p> + +<p>"They don't see many strangers," the teacher explained, "and they feel +very shy and scared when a new scholar comes, especially one from the +city."</p> + +<p>"Is this my grade?" asked Elizabeth, thinking it the very smallest grade +she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>"This is the whole school," said the teacher. "There are only two or +three in each class. You'll probably have three in yours. Miss Ann said +you were in the third grade. There, that's your seat."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth sat down before a very old desk, much battered and hacked up +with knife marks. There was a big H. P. carved just over the inkwell, +and many other initials scattered all over the top.</p> + +<p>The teacher stepped back to her desk and took up a violin that lay +there. "Now, children, we'll begin the afternoon session by singing +'America,'" she said. She played the air over a little very sweetly and +stirringly, and then as the children stood up she came down close to +them, standing just in front of Betsy. She drew the bow across the +strings in a big chord, and said, "<i>Now</i>," and Betsy burst into song with +the others. The sun came in the windows brightly, the teacher, too, sang +as she played, and all the children, even the littlest ones, opened +their mouths wide and sang lustily.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> +WHAT GRADE IS BETSY?</h3> + +<p>After the singing the teacher gave Elizabeth Ann a pile of schoolbooks, +some paper, some pencils, and a pen, and told her to set her desk in +order. There were more initials carved inside, another big H. P. with a +little A. P. under it. What a lot of children must have sat there, +thought the little girl as she arranged her books and papers. As she +shut down the lid the teacher finished giving some instructions to three +or four little ones and said, "Betsy and Ralph and Ellen, bring your +reading books up here."</p> + +<p>Betsy sighed, took out her third-grade reader, and went with the other +two up to the battered old bench near the teacher's desk. She knew all +about reading lessons and she hated them, although she loved to read. +But reading lessons...! You sat with your book open at some reading that +you could do with your eyes shut, it was so easy, and you waited and +waited and waited while your classmates slowly stumbled along, reading +aloud a sentence or two apiece, until your turn came to stand up and +read your sentence or two, which by that time sounded just like nonsense +because you'd read it over and over so many times to yourself before +your chance came. And often you didn't even have a chance to do that, +because the teacher didn't have time to get around to you at all, and +you closed your book and put it back in your desk without having opened +your mouth. Reading was one thing Elizabeth Ann had learned to do very +well indeed, but she had learned it all by herself at home from much +reading to herself. Aunt Frances had kept her well supplied with +children's books from the nearest public library. She often read three a +week—very different, that, from a sentence or two once or twice a week.</p> + +<p>When she sat down on the battered old bench she almost laughed aloud, it +seemed so funny to be in a class of only three. There had been forty in +her grade in the big brick building. She sat in the middle, the little +girl whom the teacher had called Ellen on one side, and Ralph on the +other. Ellen was very pretty, with fair hair smoothly braided in two +little pig-tails, sweet, blue eyes, and a clean blue-and-white gingham +dress. Ralph had very black eyes, dark hair, a big bruise on his +forehead, a cut on his chin, and a tear in the knee of his short +trousers. He was much bigger than Ellen, and Elizabeth Ann thought he +looked rather fierce. She decided that she would be afraid of him, and +would not like him at all.</p> + +<p>"Page thirty-two," said the teacher. "Ralph first."</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up and began to read. It sounded very familiar to Elizabeth +Ann, for he did not read at all well. What was not familiar was that the +teacher did not stop him after the first sentence. He read on and on +till he had read a page, the teacher only helping him with the hardest +words.</p> + +<p>"Now Betsy," said the teacher.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stood up, read the first sentence, and paused, like a +caged lion pausing when he comes to the end of his cage.</p> + +<p>"Go on," said the teacher.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann read the next sentence and stopped again, automatically.</p> + +<p>"Go <i>on</i>," said the teacher, looking at her sharply.</p> + +<p>The next time the little girl paused the teacher laughed out +good-naturedly. "What is the matter with you, Betsy?" she said. "Go on +till I tell you to stop."</p> + +<p>So Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised but very much interested, read on, +sentence after sentence, till she forgot they were sentences and just +thought of what they meant. She read a whole page and then another page, +and that was the end of the selection. She had never read aloud so much +in her life. She was aware that everybody in the room had stopped +working to listen to her. She felt very proud and less afraid than she +had ever thought she could be in a schoolroom. When she finished, +"You read very well!" said the teacher. "Is this very easy for you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>yes</i>!" said Elizabeth Ann.</p> + +<p>"I guess, then, that you'd better not stay in this class," said the +teacher. She took a book out of her desk. "See if you can read that."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann began in her usual school-reading style, very slow and +monotonous, but this didn't seem like a "reader" at all. It was poetry, +full of hard words that were fun to try to pronounce, and it was all +about an old woman who would hang out an American flag, even though the +town was full of rebel soldiers. She read faster and faster, getting +more and more excited, till she broke out with "Halt!" in such a loud, +spirited voice that the sound of it startled her and made her stop, +fearing that she would be laughed at. But nobody laughed. They were all +listening, very eagerly, even the little ones, with their eyes turned +toward her.</p> + +<p>"You might as well go on and let us see how it came out," said the +teacher, and Betsy finished triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Well</i>," said the teacher, "there's no sense in your reading along in the +third reader. After this you'll recite out of the seventh reader with +Frank and Harry and Stashie."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann could not believe her ears. To be "jumped" four grades in +that casual way! It wasn't possible! She at once thought, however, of +something that would prevent it entirely, and while Ellen was reading +her page in a slow, careful little voice, Elizabeth Ann was feeling +miserably that she must explain to the teacher why she couldn't read +with the seventh-grade children. Oh, how she wished she could! When they +stood up to go back to their seats she hesitated, hung her head, and +looked very unhappy. "Did you want to say something to me?" asked the +teacher, pausing with a bit of chalk in her hand.</p> + +<p>The little girl went up to her desk and said, what she knew it was her +duty to confess: "I can't be allowed to read in the seventh reader. I +don't write a bit well, and I never get the mental number-work right. I +couldn't do ANYthing with seventh-grade arithmetic!"</p> + +<p>The teacher looked a little blank and said: "<i>I</i> didn't say anything +about your number-work! I don't <i>know</i> anything about it! You haven't +recited yet." She turned away and began to write a list of words on the +board. "Betsy, Ralph, and Ellen study their spelling," she said. "You +little ones come up for your reading."</p> + +<p>Two little boys and two little girls came forward as Elizabeth Ann began +to con over the words on the board. At first she found she was listening +to the little, chirping voices, as the children straggled with their +reading, instead of studying "doubt, travel, cheese," and the other +words in her lesson. But she put her hands over her ears, and her mind +on her spelling. She wanted to make a good impression with that lesson. +After a while, when she was sure she could spell them all correctly, she +began to listen and look around her. She always "got" her spelling in +less time than was allowed the class, and usually sat idle, looking out +of the window until that study period was over. But now the moment she +stopped staring at the board and moving her lips as she spelled to +herself the teacher said, just as though she had been watching her every +minute instead of conducting a class, "Betsy, have you learned your +spelling?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, I think so," said Elizabeth Ann, wondering very much why +she was asked.</p> + +<p>"That's fine," said the teacher. "I wish you'd take little Molly over in +that corner and help her with her reading. She's getting on so much +better than the rest of the class that I hate to have her lose her time. +Just hear her read the rest of her little story, will you, and don't +help her unless she's really stuck."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was startled by this request, which was unheard of in her +experience. She was very uncertain of herself as she sat down on a low +chair in the corner of the schoolroom away from the desks, with the +little child leaning on her knee. And yet she was not exactly afraid, +either, because Molly was such a shy little roly-poly thing, with her +crop of yellow curls, and her bright blue eyes very serious as she +looked hard at the book and began: "Once there was a rat. It was a fat +rat." No, it was impossible to be frightened of such a funny little +girl, who peered so earnestly into the older child's face to make sure +she was doing her lesson right.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had never had anything to do with children younger than +herself, and she felt very pleased and important to have anybody look up +to <i>her</i>! She put her arm around Molly's square, warm, fat little body and +gave her a squeeze. Molly snuggled up closer; and the two children put +their heads together over the printed page, Elizabeth Ann correcting +Molly very gently indeed when she made a mistake, and waiting patiently +when she hesitated. She had so fresh in her mind her own suffering from +quick, nervous corrections that she took the greatest pleasure in +speaking quietly and not interrupting the little girl more than was +necessary. It was fun to teach, <i>lots</i> of fun! She was surprised when the +teacher said, "Well, Betsy, how did Molly do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, is the time up?" said Elizabeth Ann. "Why, she does beautifully, I +think, for such a little thing."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose," said the teacher thoughtfully, just as though Betsy +were a grown-up person, "do you suppose she could go into the second +reader, with Eliza? There's no use keeping her in the first if she's +ready to go on."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann's head whirled with this second light-handed juggling with +the sacred distinction between the grades. In the big brick schoolhouse +nobody <i>ever</i> went into another grade except at the beginning of a new +year, after you'd passed a lot of examinations. She had not known that +anybody could do anything else. The idea that everybody took a year to a +grade, no <i>matter</i> what! was so fixed in her mind that she felt as though +the teacher had said: "How would you like to stop being nine years old +and be twelve instead! And don't you think Molly would better be eight +instead of six?"</p> + +<p>However, just then her class in arithmetic was called, so that she had +no more time to be puzzled. She came forward with Ralph and Ellen again, +very low in her mind. She hated arithmetic with all her might, and she +really didn't understand a thing about it! By long experience she had +learned to read her teachers' faces very accurately, and she guessed by +their expression whether the answer she gave was the right one. And that +was the only way she could tell. You never heard of any other child who +did that, did you?</p> + +<p>They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just her +luck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and of +course right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8. She never +knew that one! She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguely +that it was somewhere in the fifties. Ralph burst out scornfully, "56!" +and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off, +pounced on him with 9 x 8. He answered, without drawing breath, 72. +Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy. Ellen, too, rose to the +occasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimes +remember and sometimes not. And then, oh horrors! It was her turn again! +Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mental +arithmetic lesson. She was so startled by the swiftness with which the +question went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly. +And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a +108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x +12. Good gracious! Who could have guessed, from the way they read, they +could do their tables like this! She herself missed on 7 x 7 and was +ready to cry. After this the teacher didn't call on her at all, but +showered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back with +sickening speed.</p> + +<p>After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, "Well, Betsy, you were right +about your arithmetic. I guess you'd better recite with Eliza for a +while. She's doing second-grade work. I shouldn't be surprised if, after +a good review with her, you'd be able to go on with the third-grade +work."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open. She felt +really dizzy. What crazy things the teacher said! She felt as though she +was being pulled limb from limb.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered fact.</p> + +<p>"Why—why," said Elizabeth Ann, "I don't know what I am at all. If I'm +second-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-grade +spelling, what grade <i>am I</i>?"</p> + +<p>The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase. "<i>you</i> aren't any grade at +all, no matter where you are in school. You're just yourself, aren't +you? What difference does it make what grade you're in! And what's the +use of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because you +don't know your multiplication table?"</p> + +<p>"Well, for goodness' <i>sakes</i>!" ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very much +as though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" asked the teacher again.</p> + +<p>This time Elizabeth Ann didn't answer, because she herself didn't know +what the matter was. But I do, and I'll tell you. The matter was that +never before had she known what she was doing in school. She had always +thought she was there to pass from one grade to another, and she was +ever so startled to get a little glimpse of the fact that she was there +to learn how to read and write and cipher and generally use her mind, so +she could take care of herself when she came to be grown up. Of course, +she didn't really know that till she did come to be grown up, but she +had her first dim notion of it in that moment, and it made her feel the +way you do when you're learning to skate and somebody pulls away the +chair you've been leaning on and says, "Now, go it alone!"</p> + +<p>The teacher waited a minute, and then, when Elizabeth Ann didn't say +anything more, she rang a little bell. "Recess time," she said, and as +the children marched out and began putting on their wraps she followed +them into the cloak-room, pulled on a warm, red cap and a red sweater, +and ran outdoors herself. "Who's on my side!" she called, and the +children came darting out after her. Elizabeth Ann had dreaded the first +recess time with the strange children, but she had no time to feel shy, +for in a twinkling she was on one end of a long rope with a lot of her +schoolmates, pulling with all her might against the teacher and two of +the big boys. Nobody had looked at her curiously, nobody had said +anything to her beyond a loud, "Come on, Betsy!" from Ralph, who was at +the head on their side.</p> + +<p>They pulled and they pulled, digging their feet into the ground and +bracing themselves against the rocks which stuck up out of the +playground. Sometimes the teacher's side yanked them along by quick +jerks, and then they'd all set their feet hard when Ralph shouted out, +"Now, <i>all together</i>!" and they'd slowly drag the other side back. And all +the time everybody was shouting and yelling together with the +excitement. Betsy was screaming too, and when a wagon passing by stopped +and a big, broad-shouldered farmer jumped down laughing, put the end of +the rope over his shoulder, and just walked off with the whole lot of +them till he had pulled them clear off their feet, Elizabeth Ann found +herself rolling over and over with a breathless, squirming mass of +children, her shrill laughter rising even above the shouts of merriment +of the others. She laughed so she could hardly get up on her feet again, +it was such an unexpected ending to the contest.</p> + +<p>The big farmer was laughing too. "You ain't so smart as you <i>think</i> you +are, are you!" he jeered at them good-naturedly. Then he started, +yelling "<i>Whoa</i> there!" to his horses, which had begun to walk on. He had +to run after them with all his might, and just climbed into the back of +the wagon and grabbed the reins the very moment they broke into a trot. +The children laughed, and Ralph shouted after him, "Hi, there, Uncle +Nate! Who's not so smart as he thinks he is, <i>now</i>!" He turned to the +little girls near him. "They 'most got away from him <i>that</i> time!" he +said. "He's awful foolish about leaving them standing while he's funning +or something. He thinks he's awful funny, anyhow. Some day they'll run +away on him and <i>then</i> where'll he be?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann was thinking to herself that this was one of the queerest +things that had happened to her even in this queer place. Never, why +never once, had any grown-up, passing the playground of the big brick +building, <i>dreamed</i> of such a thing as stopping for a minute to play. They +never even looked at the children, any more than if they were in another +world. In fact she had felt the school was in another world.</p> + +<p>"Ralph, it's your turn to get the water," said the teacher, handing him +a pail. "Want to go along?" said Ralph gruffly to Ellen and Betsy. He +led the way and the little girls walked after him. Now that she was out +of a crowd Elizabeth Ann felt all her shyness come down on her like a +black cloud, drying up her mouth and turning her hands and feet cold as +ice. Into one of these cold hands she felt small, warm fingers slide. +She looked down and there was little Molly trotting by her side, turning +her blue eyes up trustfully. "Teacher says I can go with you if you'll +take care of me," she said. "She never lets us first-graders go without +somebody bigger to help us over the log."</p> + +<p>As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a big +white-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set foot on it, +but with little Molly's hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed to +say she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show how +easy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and then—oh, don't you +wish Aunt Frances could have been there!—Betsy shut her teeth together +hard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As a +matter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, having +done it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. But +nobody knew this, Molly least of all.</p> + +<p>Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dipped +the pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellen +took a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without looking +up. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment, +much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, "Do you like +dolls with yellow hair the best?"</p> + +<p>Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on this +point which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didn't <i>really</i> +care about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her little +niece.</p> + +<p>"No, <i>I don't</i>!" answered the little girl emphatically. "I get just sick +and tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! I +like them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!"</p> + +<p>Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. "Oh, so do I!" she said. +"And that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will you +let me play with her some time?"</p> + +<p>"My folks?" said Elizabeth Ann blankly.</p> + +<p>"Why yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry."</p> + +<p>"Have they got a <i>doll</i>?" said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax of +Putney queerness.</p> + +<p>"Oh my, yes!" said Molly, eagerly. "She's the one Mrs. Putney had when +she was a little girl. And she's got the loveliest clothes! She's in the +hair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down once +when I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a little +girl had come there to live, they'd let her have her down all the time. +I'll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mine's got yellow +hair, but she's real pretty anyhow. If Father's going to mill that day, +he can leave me there for the morning."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<a name="shut_teeth" id="shut_teeth"></a> +<a href="images/shut_teeth.jpg"> +<img src="images/shut_teeth_sml.jpg" width="350" height="550" alt="with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and +started across." title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and +started across.</span> +</div> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, but +just then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helping +Elizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before.</p> + +<p>They ran along to the little building, and there I'm going to leave +them, because I think I've told enough about their school for <i>one</i> while. +It was only a poor, rough, little district school anyway, that no +Superintendent of Schools would have looked at for a minute, except to +sniff.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> +IF YOU DON'T LIKE CONVERSATION IN A BOOK SKIP THIS CHAPTER!</h3> + +<p>Betsy opened the door and was greeted by her kitten, who ran to her, +purring and arching her back to be stroked.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Aunt Abigail, looking up from the pan of apples in her lap, +"I suppose you're starved, aren't you? Get yourself a piece of bread and +butter, why don't you? and have one of these apples."</p> + +<p>As the little girl sat down by her, munching fast on this provender, she +asked: "What desk did you get?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann thought for a moment, cuddling Eleanor up to her face. "I +think it is the third from the front in the second row." She wondered +why Aunt Abigail cared. "Oh, I guess that's your Uncle Henry's desk. +It's the one his father had, too. Are there a couple of H. P.'s carved +on it?"</p> + +<p>Betsy nodded.</p> + +<p>"His father carved the H. P. on the lid, so Henry had to put his inside. +I remember the winter he put it there. It was the first season Mother +let me wear real hoop skirts. I sat in the first seat on the third row."</p> + +<p>Betsy ate her apple more and more slowly, trying to take in what Aunt +Abigail had said. Uncle Henry and <i>his</i> <i>father</i>—why Moses or Alexander the +Great didn't seem any further back in the mists of time to Elizabeth Ann +than did Uncle Henry's <i>father</i>! And to think he had been a little boy, +right there at that desk! She stopped chewing altogether for a moment +and stared into space. Although she was only nine years old, she was +feeling a little of the same rapt wonder, the same astonished sense of +the reality of the people who have gone before, which make a first visit +to the Roman Forum such a thrilling event for grown-ups. That very desk!</p> + +<p>After a moment she came to herself, and finding some apple still in her +mouth, went on chewing meditatively. "Aunt Abigail," she said, "how long +ago was that?"</p> + +<p>"Let's see," said the old woman, peeling apples with wonderful rapidity. +"I was born in 1844. And I was six when I first went to school. That's +sixty-six years ago."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann, like all little girls of nine, had very little notion how +long sixty-six years might be. "Was George Washington alive then?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>The wrinkles around Aunt Abigail's eyes deepened mirthfully, but she did +not laugh as she answered, "No, that was long after he died, but the +schoolhouse was there when he was alive."</p> + +<p>"It <i>was</i>!" said Betsy, staring, with her teeth set deep in an apple.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. It was the first house in the valley built of sawed +lumber. You know, when our folks came up here, they had to build all +their houses of logs to begin with."</p> + +<p>"They <i>did</i>!" cried Betsy, with her mouth full of apple.</p> + +<p>"Why yes, child, what else did you suppose they had to make houses out +of? They had to have something to live in, right off. The sawmills came +later."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know anything about it," said Betsy. "Tell me about it."</p> + +<p>"Why you knew, didn't you—your Aunt Harriet must have told you—about +how our folks came up here from Connecticut in 1763, on horseback! +Connecticut was an old settled place then, compared to Vermont. There +wasn't anything here but trees and bears and wood-pigeons. I've heard +'em say that the wood-pigeons were so thick you could go out after dark +and club 'em out of the trees, just like hens roosting in a hen-house. +There always was cold pigeon-pie in the pantry, just the way we have +doughnuts. And they used bear-grease to grease their boots and their +hair, bears were so plenty. It sounds like good eating, don't it! But of +course that was just at first. It got quite settled up before long, and +by the time of the Revolution, bears were getting pretty scarce, and +soon the wood-pigeons were all gone."</p> + +<p>"And the schoolhouse—that schoolhouse where I went today—was that +built <i>then</i>?" Elizabeth Ann found it hard to believe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it used to have a great big chimney and fireplace in it. It was +built long before stoves were invented, you know."</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought stoves were <i>always</i> invented!" cried Elizabeth Ann. This +was the most startling and interesting conversation she had ever taken +part in.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed. "Mercy, no, child! Why, <i>I</i> can remember when only +folks that were pretty well off had stoves and real poor people still +cooked over a hearth fire. I always thought it a pity they tore down the +big chimney and fireplace out of the schoolhouse and put in that big, +ugly stove. But folks are so daft over new-fangled things. Well, anyhow, +they couldn't take away the sun-dial on the window-sill. You want to be +sure to look at that. It's on the sill of the middle window on the right +hand as you face the teacher's desk."</p> + +<p>"Sun-dial," repeated Betsy. "What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Why to tell the time by, when—"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't they have a clock?" asked the child.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed. "Good gracious, there was only one clock in the +valley for years and years, and that belonged to the Wardons, the rich +people in the village. Everybody had sun-dials cut in their +window-sills. There's one on the window-sill of our pantry this minute. +Come on, I'll show it to you." She got up heavily with her pan of +apples, and trotted briskly, shaking the floor as she went, over to the +stove. "But first just watch me put these on to cook so you'll know +how." She set the pan on the stove, poured some water from the +tea-kettle over the apples, and put on a cover. "Now come on into the +pantry."</p> + +<p>They entered a sweet-smelling, spicy little room, all white paint, and +shelves which were loaded with dishes and boxes and bags and pans of +milk and jars of preserves.</p> + +<p>"There!" said Aunt Abigail, opening the window. "That's not so good as +the one at school. This only tells when noon is."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann stared stupidly at the deep scratch on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see?" said Aunt Abigail. "When the shadow got to that mark it +was noon. And the rest of the time you guessed by how far it was from +the mark. Let's see if I can come anywhere near it now." She looked at it +hard and said: "I guess it's half-past four." She glanced back into the +kitchen at the clock and said: "Oh pshaw! It's ten minutes past five! +Now my grandmother could have told that within five minutes, just by the +place of the shadow. I declare! Sometimes it seems to me that every time +a new piece of machinery comes into the door some of our wits fly out at +the window! Now I couldn't any more live without matches than I could +fly! And yet they all used to get along all right before they had +matches. Makes me feel foolish to think I'm not smart enough to get +along, if <i>I wanted</i> to, without those little snips of pine and brimstone. +Here, Betsy, take a cooky. It's against my principles to let a child +leave the pantry without having a cooky. My! it does seem like living +again to have a young one around to stuff!"</p> + +<p>Betsy took the cooky, but went on with the conversation by exclaiming, +"<i>How</i> could <i>any</i>-body get along without matches? You <i>have</i> to have +matches."</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail didn't answer at first. They were back in the kitchen now. +She was looking at the clock again. "See here," she said; "it's time I +began getting supper ready. We divide up on the work. Ann gets the +dinner and I get the supper. And everybody gets his own breakfast. Which +would you rather do, help Ann with the dinner, or me with the supper?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann had not had the slightest idea of helping anybody with any +meal, but, confronted unexpectedly with the alternative offered, she +made up her mind so quickly that she didn't want to help Cousin Ann, and +declared so loudly, "Oh, help <i>you</i> with the supper!" that her promptness +made her sound quite hearty and willing. "Well, that's fine," said Aunt +Abigail. "We'll set the table now. But first you would better look at +that apple sauce. I hear it walloping away as though it was boiling too +fast. Maybe you'd better push it back where it won't cook so fast. There +are the holders, on that hook."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann approached the stove with the holder in her hand and +horror in her heart. Nobody had ever dreamed of asking her to handle hot +things. She looked around dismally at Aunt Abigail, but the old woman +was standing with her back turned, doing something at the kitchen table. +Very gingerly the little girl took hold of the handle of the saucepan, +and very gingerly she shoved it to the back of the stove. And then she +stood still a moment to admire herself. She could do that as well as +anybody!</p> + +<p>"Why," said Aunt Abigail, as if remembering that Betsy had asked her a +question. "Any man could strike a spark from his flint and steel that he +had for his gun. And he'd keep striking it till it happened to fly out +in the right direction, and you'd catch it in some fluff where it would +start a smoulder, and you'd blow on it till you got a little flame, and +drop tiny bits of shaved-up dry pine in it, and so, little by little, +you'd build your fire up."</p> + +<p>"But it must have taken forEVER to do that!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you didn't have to do that more than once in ever so long," said +Aunt Abigail, briskly. She interrupted her story to say: "Now you put +the silver around, while I cream the potatoes. It's in that drawer—a +knife, a fork, and two spoons for each place—and the plates and cups +are up there behind the glass doors. We're going to have hot cocoa again +tonight." And as the little girl, hypnotized by the other's casual, +offhand way of issuing instructions, began to fumble with the knives and +forks she went on: "Why, you'd start your fire that way, and then you'd +never let it go out. Everybody that amounted to anything knew how to +bank the hearth fire with ashes at night so it would be sure to last. +And the first thing in the morning, you got down on your knees and poked +the ashes away very carefully till you got to the hot coals. Then you'd +blow with the bellows and drop in pieces of dry pine—don't forget the +water-glasses—and you'd blow gently till they flared up and the +shavings caught, and there your fire would be kindled again. The napkins +are in the second drawer."</p> + +<p>Betsy went on setting the table, deep in thought, reconstructing the old +life. As she put the napkins around she said, "But <i>sometimes</i> it must +have gone out ..."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Aunt Abigail, "sometimes it went out, and then one of the +children was sent over to the nearest neighbor to borrow some fire. He'd +take a covered iron pan fastened on to a long hickory stick, and go +through the woods—everything was woods then—to the next house and wait +till they had their fire going and could spare him a pan full of coals; +and then—don't forget the salt and pepper—he would leg it home as fast +as he could streak it, to get there before the coals went out. Say, +Betsy, I think that apple sauce is ready to be sweetened. You do it, +will you? I've got my hands in the biscuit dough. The sugar's in the +left-hand drawer in the kitchen cabinet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>my</i>!" cried Betsy, dismayed. "<i>I</i> don't know how to cook!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed and put back a strand of curly white hair with the +back of her floury hand. "You know how to stir sugar into your cup of +cocoa, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"But how <i>much</i> shall I put in?" asked Elizabeth Ann, clamoring for exact +instruction so she wouldn't need to do any thinking for herself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, till it tastes right," said Aunt Abigail, carelessly. "Fix it to +suit yourself, and I guess the rest of us will like it. Take that big +spoon to stir it with."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann took off the lid and began stirring in sugar, a +teaspoonful at a time, but she soon saw that that made no impression. +She poured in a cupful, stirred it vigorously, and tasted it. Better, +but not quite enough. She put in a tablespoonful more and tasted it, +staring off into space under bended brows as she concentrated her +attention on the taste. It was quite a responsibility to prepare the +apple sauce for a family. It was ever so good, too. But maybe a <i>little</i> +more sugar. She put in a teaspoonful and decided it was just exactly +right!</p> + +<p>"Done?" asked Aunt Abigail. "Take it off, then, and pour it out in that +big yellow bowl, and put it on the table in front of your place. You've +made it; you ought to serve it."</p> + +<p>"It isn't done, is it?" asked Betsy. "That isn't all you do to make +apple sauce!"</p> + +<p>"What else could you do?" asked Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>"Well...!" said Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised. "I didn't know it +was so easy to cook!"</p> + +<p>"Easiest thing in the world," said Aunt Abigail gravely, with the merry +wrinkles around her merry old eyes all creased up with silent fun.</p> + +<p>When Uncle Henry came in from the barn, with old Shep at his heels, and +Cousin Ann came down from upstairs, where her sewing-machine had been +humming like a big bee, they were both duly impressed when told that +Betsy had set the table and made the apple sauce. They pronounced it +very good apple sauce indeed, and each sent his saucer back to the +little girl for a second helping. She herself ate three saucerfuls. Her +own private opinion was that it was the very best apple sauce ever made.</p> + +<p>After supper was over and the dishes washed and wiped, Betsy helping +with the putting-away, the four gathered around the big lamp on the +table with the red cover. Cousin Ann was making some buttonholes in the +shirt-waist she had constructed that afternoon, Aunt Abigail was darning +socks, and Uncle Henry was mending a piece of harness. Shep lay on the +couch and snored until he got so noisy they couldn't stand it, and +Cousin Ann poked him in the ribs and he woke up snorting and gurgling +and looking around very sheepishly. Every time this happened it made +Betsy laugh. She held Eleanor, who didn't snore at all, but made the +prettiest little tea-kettle-singing purr deep in her throat, and opened +and sheathed her needle-like claws in Betsy's dress.</p> + +<p>"Well, how'd you get on at school?" asked Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"I've got your desk," said Elizabeth Ann, looking at him curiously, at +his gray hair and wrinkled, weather-beaten face, and trying to think +what he must have looked like when he was a little boy like Ralph.</p> + +<p>"So?" said Uncle Henry. "Well, let me tell you that's a mighty good +desk! Did you notice the deep groove in the top of it?"</p> + +<p>Betsy nodded. She had wondered what that was used for.</p> + +<p>"Well, that was the lead-pencil desk in the old days. When they couldn't +run down to the store to buy things, because there wasn't any store to +run to, how do you suppose they got their lead-pencils!" Elizabeth Ann +shook her head, incapable even of a guess. She had never thought before +but that lead-pencils grew in glass show-cases in stores.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Uncle Henry, "I'll tell you. They took a piece off the +lump of lead they made their bullets of, melted it over the fire in the +hearth down at the schoolhouse till it would run like water, and poured +it in that groove. When it cooled off, there was a long streak of solid +lead, about as big as one of our lead-pencils nowadays. They'd break +that up in shorter lengths, and there you'd have your lead-pencils, made +while you wait. Oh, I tell you in the old days folks knew how to take +care of themselves more than now."</p> + +<p>"Why, weren't there any stores?" asked Elizabeth Ann. She could not +imagine living without buying things at stores.</p> + +<p>"Where'd they get the things to put in a store in those days?" asked +Uncle Henry, argumentatively. "Every single thing had to be lugged clear +from Albany or from Connecticut on horseback."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't they use wagons?" asked Elizabeth Ann.</p> + +<p>"You can't run a wagon unless you've got a road to run it on, can you?" +asked Uncle Henry. "It was a long, long time before they had any roads. +It's an awful chore to make roads in a new country all woods and hills +and swamps and rocks. You were lucky if there was a good path from your +house to the next settlement."</p> + +<p>"Now, Henry," said Aunt Abigail, "do stop going on about old times long +enough to let Betsy answer the question you asked her. You haven't given +her a chance to say how she got on at school."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm <i>awfully</i> mixed up!" said Betsy, complainingly. "I don't know +what I am! I'm second-grade arithmetic and third-grade spelling and +seventh-grade reading and I don't know what in writing or composition. +We didn't have those."</p> + +<p>Nobody seemed to think this very remarkable, or even very interesting. +Uncle Henry, indeed, noted it only to say, "Seventh-grade reading!" He +turned to Aunt Abigail. "Oh, Mother, don't you suppose she could read +aloud to us evenings?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail and Cousin Ann both laid down their sewing to laugh! "Yes, +yes, Father, and play checkers with you too, like as not!" They +explained to Betsy: "Your Uncle Henry is just daft on being read aloud +to when he's got something to do in the evening, and when he hasn't he's +as fidgety as a broody hen if he can't play checkers. Ann hates checkers +and I haven't got the time, often."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>I love</i> to play checkers!" said Betsy.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>now</i> ..." said Uncle Henry, rising instantly and dropping his +half-mended harness on the table. "Let's have a game."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Father!" said Cousin Ann, in the tone she used for Shep. "How about +that piece of breeching! You know that's not safe. Why don't you finish +that up first?"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry sat down again, looking as Shep did when Cousin Ann told him +to get up on the couch, and took up his needle and awl.</p> + +<p>"But I could read something aloud," said Betsy, feeling very sorry for +him. "At least I think I could. I never did, except at school."</p> + +<p>"What shall we have, Mother?" asked Uncle Henry eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. What have we got in this bookcase?" said Aunt +Abigail. "It's pretty cold to go into the parlor to the other one." She +leaned forward, ran her fat fore-finger over the worn old volumes, and +took out a battered, blue-covered book. "Scott?"</p> + +<p>"Gosh, yes!" said Uncle Henry, his eyes shining. "The staggit eve!"</p> + +<p>At least that was the way it sounded to Betsy, but when she took the +book and looked where Aunt Abigail pointed she read it correctly, though +in a timid, uncertain voice. She was very proud to think she could +please a grown-up so much as she was evidently pleasing Uncle Henry, but +the idea of reading aloud for people to hear, not for a teacher to +correct, was unheard-of.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">The Stag at eve had drunk his fill</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">she began, and it was as though she had stepped into a boat and was +swept off by a strong current. She did not know what all the words +meant, and she could not pronounce a good many of the names, but nobody +interrupted to correct her, and she read on and on, steadied by the +strongly-marked rhythm, drawn forward swiftly from one clanging, +sonorous rhyme to another. Uncle Henry nodded his head in time to the +rise and fall of her voice and now and then stopped his work to look at +her with bright, eager, old eyes. He knew some of the places by heart +evidently, for once in a while his voice would join the little girl's +for a couplet or two. They chanted together thus:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">A moment listened to the cry</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That thickened as the chase drew nigh,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Then, as the headmost foes appeared,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With one brave bound, the copse he cleared.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>At the last line Uncle Henry flung his arm out wide, and the child felt +as though the deer had made his great leap there, before her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I've seen 'em jump just like that," broke in Uncle Henry. "A +two-three-hundred-pound stag go up over a four-foot fence just like a +piece of thistledown in the wind."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Henry," asked Elizabeth Ann, "what is a copse?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Uncle Henry indifferently. "Something in the woods, +must be. Underbrush most likely. You can always tell words you don't +know by the sense of the whole thing. Go on."</p> + +<p class="c">And stretching forward, free and far,</p> + +<p>The child's voice took up the chant again. She read faster and faster as +it got more exciting. Uncle Henry joined in on</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">For, jaded now and spent with toil,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Embossed with foam and dark with soil,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">While every gasp with sobs he drew,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The laboring stag strained full in view.</td></tr> +</table> +<p>The little girl's heart beat fast. She fled along through the next +lines, stumbling desperately over the hard words but seeing the headlong +chase through them clearly as through tree-trunks in a forest. Uncle +Henry broke in in a triumphant shout:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">The wily quarry shunned the shock</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And <i>turned</i> him from the opposing rock;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Then dashing down a darksome glen,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In the deep Trossach's wildest nook</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">His solitary refuge took.</td></tr> +</table> +<p>"Oh <i>my</i>!" cried Elizabeth Ann, laying down the book. "He got away, didn't +he? I was so afraid he wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"I can just hear those dogs yelping, can't you?" said Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p class="c">Yelled on the view the opening pack.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes you hear 'em that way up on the slope of Hemlock Mountain +back of us, when they get to running a deer."</p> + +<p>"What say we have some pop-corn!" suggested Aunt Abigail. "Betsy, don't +you want to pop us some?"</p> + +<p>"I never <i>did</i>," said the little girl, but in a less doubtful tone than +she had ever used with that phrase so familiar to her. A dim notion was +growing up in her mind that the fact that she had never done a thing was +no proof that she couldn't.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you," said Uncle Henry. He reached down a couple of ears from +a big yellow cluster hanging on the wall, and he and Betsy shelled them +into the popper, popped it full of snowy kernels, buttered it, salted +it, and took it back to the table.</p> + +<p>It was just as she was eating her first ambrosial mouthful that the door +opened and a fur-capped head was thrust in. A man's voice said: +"Evenin', folks. No, I can't stay. I was down at the village just now, +and thought I'd ask for any mail down our way." He tossed a newspaper +and a letter on the table and was gone.</p> + +<p>The letter was addressed to Elizabeth Ann and it was from Aunt Frances. +She read it to herself while Uncle Henry read the newspaper. Aunt +Frances wrote that she had been perfectly horrified to learn that Cousin +Molly had not kept Elizabeth Ann with her, and that she would never +forgive her for that cruelty. And when she thought that her darling was +at Putney Farm...! Her blood ran cold. It positively did! It was too +dreadful. But it couldn't be helped, for a time anyhow, because Aunt +Harriet was really <i>very</i> sick. Elizabeth Ann would have to be a dear, +brave child and endure it as best she could. And as soon ... oh, as soon +as ever she <i>could</i>, Aunt Frances would come and take her away from them. +"Don't cry <i>too</i> much, darling ... it breaks my heart to think of you there! +<i>Try</i> to be cheerful, dearest! <i>Try</i> to bear it for the sake of your +distracted, loving Aunt Frances."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann looked up from this letter and across the table at Aunt +Abigail's rosy, wrinkled old face, bent over her darning. Uncle Henry +laid the paper down, took a big mouthful of pop-corn, and beat time +silently with his hand. When he could speak he murmured: An hundred dogs +bayed deep and strong, Clattered an hundred steeds along.</p> + +<p>Old Shep woke up with a snort and Aunt Abigail fed him a handful of +pop-corn. Little Eleanor stirred in her sleep, stretched, yawned, and +nestled down into a ball again on the little girl's lap. Betsy could +feel in her own body the rhythmic vibration of the kitten's contented +purr.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail looked up: "Finished your letter? I hope Harriet is no +worse. What does Frances say?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann blushed a deep red and crushed the letter together in her +hand. She felt ashamed and she did not know why. "Aunt Frances +says, ... Aunt Frances says, ..." she began, hesitating. "She says Aunt +Harriet is still pretty sick." She stopped, drew a long breath, and went +on, "And she sends her love to you."</p> + +<p>Now Aunt Frances hadn't done anything of the kind, so this was a really +whopping fib. But Elizabeth Ann didn't care if it was. It made her feel +less ashamed, though she did not know why. She took another mouthful of +pop-corn and stroked Eleanor's back. Uncle Henry got up and stretched. +"It's time to go to bed, folks," he said. As he wound the clock Betsy +heard him murmuring:</p> + +<p class="c">But when the sun his beacon red....</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> +ELIZABETH ANN FAILS IN AN EXAMINATION</h3> + +<p>I wonder if you can guess the name of a little girl who, about a month +after this, was walking along through the melting snow in the woods with +a big black dog running circles around her. Yes, all alone in the woods +with a terrible great dog beside her, and yet not a bit afraid. You +don't suppose it could be Elizabeth Ann? Well, whoever she was, she had +something on her mind, for she walked more and more slowly and had only +a very absent-minded pat for the dog's head when he thrust it up for a +caress. When the wood road led into a clearing in which there was a +rough little house of slabs, the child stopped altogether, and, looking +down, began nervously to draw lines in the snow with her overshoe.</p> + +<p>You see, something perfectly dreadful had happened in school that day. +The Superintendent, the all-important, seldom-seen Superintendent, came +to visit the school and the children were given some examinations so he +could see how they were getting on.</p> + +<p>Now, you know what an examination did to Elizabeth Ann. Or haven't I +told you yet?</p> + +<p>Well, if I haven't, it's because words fail me. If there is anything +horrid that an examination DIDn't do to Elizabeth Ann, I have yet to +hear of it. It began years ago, before ever she went to school, when she +heard Aunt Frances talking about how <i>she</i> had dreaded examinations when +she was a child, and how they dried up her mouth and made her ears ring +and her head ache and her knees get all weak and her mind a perfect +blank, so that she didn't know what two and two made. Of course +Elizabeth Ann didn't feel <i>all</i> those things right off at her first +examination, but by the time she had had several and had rushed to tell +Aunt Frances about how awful they were and the two of them had +sympathized with one another and compared symptoms and then wept about +her resulting low marks, why, she not only had all the symptoms Aunt +Frances had ever had, but a good many more of her own invention.</p> + +<p>Well, she had had them all and had them hard this afternoon, when the +Superintendent was there. Her mouth had gone dry and her knees had +shaken and her elbows had felt as though they had no more bones in them +than so much jelly, and her eyes had smarted, and oh, what answers she +had made! That dreadful tight panic had clutched at her throat whenever +the Superintendent had looked at her, and she had disgraced herself ten +times over. She went hot and cold to think of it, and felt quite sick +with hurt vanity. She who did so well every day and was so much looked +up to by her classmates, what <i>must</i> they be thinking of her! To tell the +truth, she had been crying as she walked along through the woods, +because she was so sorry for herself. Her eyes were all red still, and +her throat sore from the big lump in it.</p> + +<p>And now she would live it all over again as she told the Putney cousins. +For of course they must be told. She had always told Aunt Frances +everything that happened in school. It happened that Aunt Abigail had +been taking a nap when she got home from school, and so she had come out +to the sap-house, where Cousin Ann and Uncle Henry were making syrup, to +have it over with as soon as possible. She went up to the little slab +house now, dragging her feet and hanging her head, and opened the door.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann, in a very short old skirt and a man's coat and high rubber +boots, was just poking some more wood into the big fire which blazed +furiously under the broad, flat pan where the sap was boiling. The +rough, brown hut was filled with white steam and that sweetest of all +odors, hot maple syrup. Cousin Ann turned her head, her face very red +with the heat of the fire, and nodded at the child.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Betsy, you're just in time. I've saved out a cupful of hot syrup +for you, all ready to wax."</p> + +<p>Betsy hardly heard this, although she had been wild about waxed sugar on +snow ever since her very first taste of it. "Cousin Ann," she said +unhappily, "the Superintendent visited our school this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Did he!" said Cousin Ann, dipping a thermometer into the boiling syrup.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and we had <i>examinations</i>!" said Betsy.</p> + +<p>"Did you?" said Cousin Ann, holding the thermometer up to the light and +looking at it.</p> + +<p>"And you know how perfectly awful examinations make you feel," said +Betsy, very near to tears again.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said Cousin Ann, sorting over syrup tins. "They never made me +feel awful. I thought they were sort of fun."</p> + +<p>"<i>Fun</i>!" cried Betsy, indignantly, staring through the beginnings of her +tears.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Like taking a dare, don't you know. Somebody stumps you to +jump off the hitching-post, and you do it to show 'em. I always used to +think examinations were like that. Somebody stumps you to spell +'pneumonia,' and you do it to show 'em. Here's your cup of syrup. You'd +better go right out and wax it while it's hot."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann automatically took the cup in her hand, but she did not +look at it. "But supposing you get so scared you can't spell 'pneumonia' +or anything else!" she said feelingly. "That's what happened to me. You +know how your mouth gets all dry and your knees ..." She stopped. Cousin +Ann had said she did <i>not</i> know all about those things. "Well, anyhow, I +got so scared I could hardly <i>stand</i> up! And I made the most awful +mistakes—things I know just as <i>well</i>! I spelled 'doubt' without any b +and 'separate' with an e, and I said Iowa was bounded on the north by +Wisconsin, and I ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," said Cousin Ann, "it doesn't matter if you really know the +right answers, does it? That's the important thing."</p> + +<p>This was an idea which had never in all her life entered Betsy's brain +and she did not take it in at all now. She only shook her head miserably +and went on in a doleful tone. "And I said 13 and 8 are 22! and I wrote +March without any capital M, and I ..."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Betsy, do you <i>want</i> to tell me all this?" Cousin Ann spoke in +the quick, ringing voice she had once in a while which made everybody, +from old Shep up, open his eyes and get his wits about him. Betsy +gathered hers and thought hard; and she came to an unexpected +conclusion. No, she didn't really want to tell Cousin Ann all about it. +Why was she doing it? Because she thought that was the thing to do. +"Because if you don't really want to," went on Cousin Ann, "I don't see +that it's doing anybody any good. I guess Hemlock Mountain will stand +right there just the same even if you did forget to put a b in 'doubt.' +And your syrup will be too cool to wax right if you don't take it out +pretty soon."</p> + +<p>She turned back to stoke the fire, and Elizabeth Ann, in a daze, found +herself walking out of the door. It fell shut after her, and there she +was under the clear, pale-blue sky, with the sun just hovering over the +rim of Hemlock Mountain. She looked up at the big mountains, all blue +and silver with shadows and snow, and wondered what in the world Cousin +Ann had meant. Of course Hemlock Mountain would stand there just the +same. But what of it? What did that have to do with her arithmetic, with +anything? She had failed in her examination, hadn't she?</p> + +<p>She found a clean white snow-bank under a pine-tree, and, setting her +cup of syrup down in a safe place, began to pat the snow down hard to +make the right bed for the waxing of the syrup. The sun, very hot for +that late March day, brought out strongly the tarry perfume of the big +pine-tree. Near her the sap dripped musically into a bucket, already +half full, hung on a maple-tree. A blue-jay rushed suddenly through the +upper branches of the wood, his screaming and chattering voice sounding +like noisy children at play.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Ann took up her cup and poured some of the thick, hot syrup +out on the hard snow, making loops and curves as she poured. It +stiffened and hardened at once, and she lifted up a great coil of it, +threw her head back, and let it drop into her mouth. Concentrated +sweetness of summer days was in that mouthful, part of it still hot and +aromatic, part of it icy and wet with melting snow. She crunched it all +together with her strong, child's teeth into a delicious, big lump and +sucked on it dreamily, her eyes on the rim of Hemlock Mountain, high +above her there, the snow on it bright golden in the sunlight. Uncle +Henry had promised to take her up to the top as soon as the snow went +off. She wondered what the top of a mountain would be like. Uncle Henry +had said the main thing was that you could see so much of the world at +once. He said it was too queer the way your own house and big barn and +great fields looked like little toy things that weren't of any account. +It was because you could see so much more than just the....</p> + +<p>She heard an imploring whine, and a cold nose was thrust into her hand! +Why, there was old Shep begging for his share of waxed sugar. He loved +it, though it did stick to his teeth so! She poured out another lot and +gave half of it to Shep. It immediately stuck his jaws together tight, +and he began pawing at his mouth and shaking his head till Betsy had to +laugh. Then he managed to pull his jaws apart and chewed loudly and +visibly, tossing his head, opening his mouth wide till Betsy could see +the sticky, brown candy draped in melting festoons all over his big +white teeth and red gullet. Then with a gulp he had swallowed it all +down and was whining for more, striking softly at the little girl's +skirt with his forepaw. "Oh, you eat it too fast!" cried Betsy, but she +shared her next lot with him too. The sun had gone down over Hemlock +Mountain by this time, and the big slope above her was all deep blue +shadow. The mountain looked much higher now as the dusk began to fall, +and loomed up bigger and bigger as though it reached to the sky. It was +no wonder houses looked small from its top. Betsy ate the last of her +sugar, looking up at the quiet giant there, towering grandly above her. +There was no lump in her throat now. And, although she still thought she +did not know what in the world Cousin Ann meant by saying that about +Hemlock Mountain and her examination, it's my opinion that she had made +a very good beginning of an understanding.</p> + +<p>She was just picking up her cup to take it back to the sap-house when +Shep growled a little and stood with his ears and tail up, looking down +the road. Something was coming down that road in the blue, clear +twilight, something that was making a very queer noise. It sounded +almost like somebody crying. It <i>was</i> somebody crying! It was a child +crying. It was a little, little girl. ... Betsy could see her +now ... stumbling along and crying as though her heart would break. Why, +it was little Molly, her own particular charge at school, whose reading +lesson she heard every day. Betsy and Shep ran to meet her. "What's the +matter, Molly? What's the matter?" Betsy knelt down and put her arms +around the weeping child. "Did you fall down? Did you hurt you? What are +you doing 'way off here? Did you lose your way?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go away! I don't want to go away!" said Molly over and +over, clinging tightly to Betsy. It was a long time before Betsy could +quiet her enough to find out what had happened. Then she made out +between Molly's sobs that her mother had been taken suddenly sick and +had to go away to a hospital, and that left nobody at home to take care +of Molly, and she was to be sent away to some strange relatives in the +city who didn't want her at all and who said so right out....</p> + +<p>Oh, Elizabeth Ann knew all about that! and her heart swelled big with +sympathy. For a moment she stood again out on the sidewalk in front of +the Lathrop house with old Mrs. Lathrop's ungracious white head bobbing +from a window, and knew again that ghastly feeling of being unwanted. +Oh, she knew why little Molly was crying! And she shut her hands +together hard and made up her mind that she <i>would</i> help her out!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<a name="whats_matter" id="whats_matter"></a> +<a href="images/whats_matter.jpg"> +<img src="images/whats_matter_sml.jpg" width="394" height="550" alt=""What's the matter, Molly? What's the matter?"" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"What's the matter, Molly? What's the matter?"</span> +</div> + +<p>Do you know what she did, right off, without thinking about it? She +didn't go and look up Aunt Abigail. She didn't wait till Uncle Henry +came back from his round of emptying sap buckets into the big tub on his +sled. As fast as her feet could carry her she flew back to Cousin Ann in +the sap-house. I can't tell you (except again that Cousin Ann was Cousin +Ann) why it was that Betsy ran so fast to her and was so sure that +everything would be all right as soon as Cousin Ann knew about it; but +whatever the reason was it was a good one, for, though Cousin Ann did +not stop to kiss Molly or even to look at her more than one sharp first +glance, she said after a moment's pause, during which she filled a syrup +can and screwed the cover down very tight: "Well, if her folks will let +her stay, how would you like to have Molly come and stay with us till +her mother gets back from the hospital? Now you've got a room of your +own, I guess if you wanted to you could have her sleep with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly!" shouted Betsy, jumping up and down, and then +hugging the little girl with all her might. "Oh, it will be like having +a little sister!"</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann sounded a dry, warning note: "Don't be too sure her folks +will let her. We don't know about them yet."</p> + +<p>Betsy ran to her, and caught her hand, looking up at her with shining +eyes. "Cousin Ann, if <i>you</i> go to see them and ask them, they will!"</p> + +<p>This made even Cousin Ann give a little abashed smile of pleasure, +although she made her face grave again at once and said: "You'd better +go along back to the house now, Betsy. It's time for you to help Mother +with the supper."</p> + +<p>The two children trotted back along the darkening wood road, Shep +running before them, little Molly clinging fast to the older child's +hand. "Aren't you ever afraid, Betsy, in the woods this way?" she asked +admiringly, looking about her with timid eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Betsy, protectingly; "there's nothing to be afraid of, +except getting off on the wrong fork of the road, near the Wolf Pit."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>ow</i>!" said Molly, cringing. "What's the Wolf Pit? What an awful +name!"</p> + +<p>Betsy laughed. She tried to make her laugh sound brave like Cousin +Ann's, which always seemed so scornful of being afraid. As a matter of +fact, she was beginning to fear that they <i>had</i> made the wrong turn, and +she was not quite sure that she could find the way home. But she put +this out of her mind and walked along very fast, peering ahead into the +dusk. "Oh, it hasn't anything to do with wolves," she said in answer to +Molly's question; "anyhow, not now. It's just a big, deep hole in the +ground where a brook had dug out a cave. ... Uncle Henry told me all +about it when he showed it to me ... and then part of the roof caved in; +sometimes there's ice in the corner of the covered part all the summer, +Aunt Abigail says."</p> + +<p>"Why do you call it the Wolf Pit?" asked Molly, walking very close to +Betsy and holding very tightly to her hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, long, ever so long ago, when the first settlers came up here, they +heard a wolf howling all night, and when it didn't stop in the morning, +they came up here on the mountain and found a wolf had fallen in and +couldn't get out."</p> + +<p>"My! I hope they killed him!" said Molly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gracious! that was more than a hundred years ago," said Betsy. She +was not thinking of what she was saying. She was thinking that if they +<i>were</i> on the right road they ought to be home by this time. She was +thinking that the right road ran down hill to the house all the way, and +that this certainly seemed to be going up a little. She was wondering +what had become of Shep. "Stand here just a minute, Molly," she said. "I +want ... I just want to go ahead a little bit and see ... and see ..." She +darted on around a curve of the road and stood still, her heart sinking. +The road turned there and led straight up the mountain!</p> + +<p>For just a moment the little girl felt a wild impulse to burst out in a +shriek for Aunt Frances, and to run crazily away, anywhere so long as +she was running. But the thought of Molly standing back there, +trustfully waiting to be taken care of, shut Betsy's lips together hard +before her scream of fright got out. She stood still, thinking. Now she +mustn't get frightened. All they had to do was to walk back along the +road till they came to the fork and then make the right turn. But what +if they didn't get back to the turn till it was so dark they couldn't +see it...? Well, she mustn't think of that. She ran back, calling, "Come +on, Molly," in a tone she tried to make as firm as Cousin Ann's. "I +guess we have made the wrong turn after all. We'd better ..."</p> + +<p>But there was no Molly there. In the brief moment Betsy had stood +thinking, Molly had disappeared. The long, shadowy wood road held not a +trace of her.</p> + +<p>Then Betsy <i>was</i> frightened and then she <i>did</i> begin to scream, at the top +of her voice, "Molly! Molly!" She was beside herself with terror, and +started back hastily to hear Molly's voice, very faint, apparently +coming from the ground under her feet.</p> + +<p>"Ow! Ow! Betsy! Get me out! Get me out!"</p> + +<p>"Where <i>are</i> you?" shrieked Betsy.</p> + +<p>"I don't know!" came Molly's sobbing voice. "I just moved the least +little bit out of the road, and slipped on the ice and began to slide +and I couldn't stop myself and I fell down into a deep hole!"</p> + +<p>Betsy's head felt as though her hair were standing up straight on end +with horror. Molly must have fallen down into the Wolf Pit! Yes, they +were quite near it. She remembered now that big white-birch tree stood +right at the place where the brook tumbled over the edge and fell into +it. Although she was dreadfully afraid of falling in herself, she went +cautiously over to this tree, feeling her way with her foot to make sure +she did not slip, and peered down into the cavernous gloom below. Yes, +there was Molly's little face, just a white speck. The child was crying, +sobbing, and holding up her arms to Betsy.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt, Molly?"</p> + +<p>"No. I fell into a big snow-bank, but I'm all wet and frozen and I want +to get out! I want to get out!"</p> + +<p>Betsy held on to the birch-tree. Her head whirled. What <i>should</i> she do! +"Look here, Molly," she called down, "I'm going to run back along to the +right road and back to the house and get Uncle Henry. He'll come with a +rope and get you out!"</p> + +<p>At this Molly's crying rose to a frantic scream. "Oh, Betsy, don't leave +me here alone! Don't! Don't! The wolves will get me! Betsy, <i>don't</i> leave +me alone!" The child was wild with terror.</p> + +<p>"But <i>I can't</i> get you out myself!" screamed back Betsy, crying herself. +Her teeth were chattering with the cold.</p> + +<p>"Don't go! Don't go!" came up from the darkness of the pit in a piteous +howl. Betsy made a great effort and stopped crying. She sat down on a +stone and tried to think. And this is what came into her mind as a +guide: "What would Cousin Ann do if she were here? She wouldn't cry. She +would <i>think</i> of something."</p> + +<p>Betsy looked around her desperately. The first thing she saw was the big +limb of a pine-tree, broken off by the wind, which half lay and half +slantingly stood up against a tree a little distance above the mouth of +the pit. It had been there so long that the needles had all dried and +fallen off, and the skeleton of the branch with the broken stubs looked +like ... yes, it looked like a ladder! <i>That</i> was what Cousin Ann would have +done!</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute! Wait a minute, Molly!" she called wildly down the pit, +warm all over in excitement. "Now listen. You go off there in a corner, +where the ground makes a sort of roof. I'm going to throw down something +you can climb up on, maybe."</p> + +<p>"Ow! Ow, it'll hit me!" cried poor little Molly, more and more +frightened. But she scrambled off under her shelter obediently, while +Betsy struggled with the branch. It was so firmly imbedded in the snow +that at first she could not budge it at all. But after she cleared that +away and pried hard with the stick she was using as a lever she felt it +give a little. She bore down with all her might, throwing her weight +again and again on her lever, and finally felt the big branch +perceptibly move. After that it was easier, as its course was down hill +over the snow to the mouth of the pit. Glowing, and pushing, wet with +perspiration, she slowly maneuvered it along to the edge, turned it +squarely, gave it a great shove, and leaned over anxiously. Then she +gave a great sigh of relief! Just as she had hoped, it went down sharp +end first and stuck fast in the snow which had saved Molly from broken +bones. She was so out of breath with her work that for a moment she +could not speak. Then, "Molly, there! Now I guess you can climb up to +where I can reach you."</p> + +<p>Molly made a rush for any way out of her prison, and climbed, like the +little practiced squirrel that she was, up from one stub to another to +the top of the branch. She was still below the edge of the pit there, +but Betsy lay flat down on the snow and held out her hands. Molly took +hold hard, and, digging her toes into the snow, slowly wormed her way up +to the surface of the ground.</p> + +<p>It was then, at that very moment, that Shep came bounding up to them, +barking loudly, and after him Cousin Ann striding along in her rubber +boots, with a lantern in her hand and a rather anxious look on her face.</p> + +<p>She stopped short and looked at the two little girls, covered with snow, +their faces flaming with excitement, and at the black hole gaping behind +them. "I always <i>told</i> Father we ought to put a fence around that pit," +she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Some day a sheep's going to fall +down there. Shep came along to the house without you, and we thought +most likely you'd taken the wrong turn."</p> + +<p>Betsy felt terribly aggrieved. She wanted to be petted and praised for +her heroism. She wanted Cousin Ann to <i>realize</i> ... oh, if Aunt Frances were +only there, <i>she</i> would realize...!</p> + +<p>"I fell down in the hole, and Betsy wanted to go and get Mr. Putney, but +I wouldn't let her, and so she threw down a big branch and I climbed +out," explained Molly, who, now that her danger was past, took Betsy's +action quite as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was how it happened," said Cousin Ann. She looked down the +hole and saw the big branch, and looked back and saw the long trail of +crushed snow where Betsy had dragged it. "Well, now, that was quite a +good idea for a little girl to have," she said briefly. "I guess you'll +do to take care of Molly all right!"</p> + +<p>She spoke in her usual voice and immediately drew the children after +her, but Betsy's heart was singing joyfully as she trotted along +clasping Cousin Ann's strong hand. Now she knew that Cousin Ann +realized. ... She trotted fast, smiling to herself in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"What made you think of doing that?" asked Cousin Ann presently, as they +approached the house.</p> + +<p>"Why, I tried to think what <i>you</i> would have done if you'd been there," +said Betsy.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Cousin Ann. "Well ..."</p> + +<p>She didn't say another word, but Betsy, glancing up into her face as +they stepped into the lighted room, saw an expression that made her give +a little skip and hop of joy. She had <i>pleased</i> Cousin Ann.</p> + +<p>That night, as she lay in her bed, her arm over Molly cuddled up warm +beside her, she remembered, oh, ever so faintly, as something of no +importance, that she had failed in an examination that afternoon.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> +BETSY STARTS A SEWING SOCIETY</h3> + +<p>Betsy and Molly had taken Deborah to school with them. Deborah was the +old wooden doll with brown, painted curls. She had lain in a trunk +almost ever since Aunt Abigail's childhood, because Cousin Ann had never +cared for dolls when she was a little girl. At first Betsy had not dared +to ask to see her, much less to play with her, but when Ellen, as she +had promised, came over to Putney Farm that first Saturday she had said +right out, as soon as she landed in the house, "Oh, Mrs. Putney, can't +we play with Deborah?" And Aunt Abigail had answered: "Why <i>yes</i>, of +course! <i>I knew</i> there was something I've kept forgetting!" She went up +with them herself to the cold attic and opened the little hair-trunk +under the eaves.</p> + +<p>There lay a doll, flat on her back, looking up at them brightly out of +her blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, Debby dear," said Aunt Abigail, taking her up gently. "It's a +good long time since you and I played under the lilac bushes, isn't it? +I expect you've been pretty lonesome up here all these years. Never you +mind, you'll have some good times again, now." She pulled down the +doll's full, ruffled skirt, straightened the lace at the neck of her +dress, and held her for a moment, looking down at her silently. You +could tell by the way she spoke, by the way she touched Deborah, by the +way she looked at her, that she had loved the doll very dearly, and +maybe still did, a little.</p> + +<p>When she put Deborah into Betsy's arms, the child felt that she was +receiving something very precious, almost something alive. She and Ellen +looked with delight at the yards and yards of picot-edged ribbon, sewed +on by hand to the ruffles of the skirt, and lifted up the silk folds to +admire the carefully made, full petticoats and frilly drawers, the +pretty, soft old kid shoes and white stockings. Aunt Abigail looked at +them with an absent smile on her lips, as though she were living over +old scenes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<a name="old_doll" id="old_doll"></a> +<a href="images/old_doll.jpg"> +<img src="images/old_doll_sml.jpg" width="430" height="550" alt="Betsy and Ellen and the old doll." title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Betsy and Ellen and the old doll.</span> +</div> + +<p>Finally, "It's too cold to play up here," she said, coming to herself +with a long breath. "You'd better bring Deborah and the trunk down into +the south room." She carried the doll, and Betsy and Ellen each took an +end of the old trunk, no larger than a modern suitcase. They settled +themselves on the big couch, back of the table with the lamp. Old Shep +was on it, but Betsy coaxed him off by putting down some bones Cousin +Ann had been saving for him. When he finished those and came back for +the rest of his snooze, he found his place occupied by the little girls, +sitting cross-legged, examining the contents of the trunk, all spread +out around them. Shep sighed deeply and sat down with his nose resting +on the couch near Betsy's knee, following all their movements with his +kind, dark eyes. Once in a while Betsy stopped hugging Deborah or +exclaiming over a new dress long enough to pat Shep's head and fondle +his ears. This was what he was waiting for, and every time she did it he +wagged his tail thumpingly against the floor.</p> + +<p>After that Deborah and her trunk were kept downstairs where Betsy could +play with her. And often she was taken to school. You never heard of +such a thing as taking a doll to school, did you? Well, I told you this +was a queer, old-fashioned school that any modern School Superintendent +would sniff at. As a matter of fact, it was not only Betsy who took her +doll to school; all the little girls did, whenever they felt like it. +Miss Benton, the teacher, had a shelf for them in the entry-way where +the wraps were hung, and the dolls sat on it and waited patiently all +through lessons. At recess time or nooning each little mother snatched +her own child and began to play. As soon as it grew warm enough to play +outdoors without just racing around every minute to keep from freezing +to death, the dolls and their mothers went out to a great pile of rocks +at one end of the bare, stony field which was the playground.</p> + +<p>There they sat and played in the spring sunshine, warmer from day to +day. There were a great many holes and shelves and pockets and little +caves in the rocks which made lovely places for playing keep-house. Each +little girl had her own particular cubby-holes and "rooms," and they +"visited" their dolls back and forth all around the pile. And as they +played they talked very fast about all sorts of things, being little +girls and not boys who just yelled and howled inarticulately as they +played ball or duck-on-a-rock or prisoner's goal, racing and running and +wrestling noisily all around the rocks.</p> + +<p>There was one child who neither played with the girls nor ran and +whooped with the boys. This was little six-year-old 'Lias, one of the +two boys in Molly's first grade. At recess time he generally hung about +the school door by himself, looking moodily down and knocking the toe of +his ragged, muddy shoe against a stone. The little girls were talking +about him one day as they played. "My! Isn't that 'Lias Brewster the +horridest-looking child!" said Eliza, who had the second grade all to +herself, although Molly now read out of the second reader with her.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, yes! So ragged!" said Anastasia Monahan, called Stashie for +short. She was a big girl, fourteen years old, who was in the seventh +grade.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't look as if he <i>ever</i> combed his hair!" said Betsy. "It looks +just like a wisp of old hay."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes," little Molly proudly added her bit to the talk of the +older girls, "he forgets to put on any stockings and just has his +dreadful old shoes on over his dirty, bare feet."</p> + +<p>"I guess he hasn't <i>got</i> any stockings half the time," said big Stashie +scornfully. "I guess his stepfather drinks 'em up."</p> + +<p>"How <i>can</i> he drink up stockings!" asked Molly, opening her round eyes +very wide.</p> + +<p>"Sh! You mustn't ask. Little girls shouldn't know about such things, +should they, Betsy?"</p> + +<p>"No <i>indeed</i>," said Betsy, looking mysterious. As a matter of fact, she +herself had no idea what Stashie meant, but she looked wise and said +nothing.</p> + +<p>Some of the boys had squatted down near the rocks for a game of marbles +now.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow," said Molly resentfully, "I don't care what his +stepfather does to his stockings. I wish 'Lias would wear 'em to school. +And lots of times he hasn't anything on under those horrid old overalls +either! I can see his bare skin through the torn places."</p> + +<p>"I wish he didn't have to sit so near me," said Betsy complainingly. +"He's <i>so</i> dirty."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't want him near <i>me</i>, either!" cried all the other little +girls at once. Ralph glanced up at them frowning, from where he knelt +with his middle finger crooked behind a marble ready for a shot. He +looked as he always did, very rough and half-threatening. "Oh, you girls +make me sick!" he said. He sent his marble straight to the mark, +pocketed his opponent's, and stood up, scowling at the little mothers. +"I guess if you had to live the way he does you'd be dirty! Half the +time he don't get anything to eat before he comes to school, and if my +mother didn't put up some extra for him in my box he wouldn't get any +lunch either. And then you go and jump on him!"</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't his own mother put up his lunch?" Betsy challenged their +critic.</p> + +<p>"He hasn't got any mother. She's dead," said Ralph, turning away with +his hands in his pockets. He yelled to the boys, "Come on, fellers, +beat-che to the bridge and back!" and was off, with the others racing at +his heels.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, I don't care; he <i>is</i> dirty and horrid!" said Stashie +emphatically, looking over at the drooping, battered little figure, +leaning against the school door, listlessly kicking at a stone.</p> + +<p>But Betsy did not say anything more just then.</p> + +<p>The teacher, who "boarded 'round," was staying at Putney Farm at that +time, and that evening, as they all sat around the lamp in the south +room, Betsy looked up from her game of checkers with Uncle Henry and +asked, "How can anybody drink up stockings?"</p> + +<p>"Mercy, child! what are you talking about?" asked Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>Betsy repeated what Anastasia Monahan had said, and was flattered by the +instant, rather startled attention given her by the grown-ups. "Why, I +didn't know that Bud Walker had taken to drinking again!" said Uncle +Henry. "My! That's too bad!"</p> + +<p>"Who takes care of that child anyhow, now that poor Susie is dead?" Aunt +Abigail asked of everybody in general.</p> + +<p>"Is he just living there <i>alone</i>, with that good-for-nothing stepfather? +How do they get enough to <i>eat</i>?" said Cousin Ann, looking troubled.</p> + +<p>Apparently Betsy's question had brought something half forgotten and +altogether neglected into their minds. They talked for some time after +that about 'Lias, the teacher confirming what Betsy and Stashie had +said.</p> + +<p>"And we sitting right here with plenty to eat and never raising a hand!" +cried Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>"How you <i>will</i> let things slip out of your mind!" said Cousin Ann +remorsefully.</p> + +<p>It struck Betsy vividly that 'Lias was not at all the one they blamed +for his objectionable appearance. She felt quite ashamed to go on with +the other things she and the little girls had said, and fell silent, +pretending to be very much absorbed in her game of checkers.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail suddenly, as though an inspiration had +just struck her, "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if that Elmore Pond +might adopt 'Lias if he was gone at the right way."</p> + +<p>"Who's Elmore Pond?" asked the schoolteacher.</p> + +<p>"Why, you must have seen him—that great, big, red-faced, +good-natured-looking man that comes through here twice a year, buying +stock. He lives over Bigby way, but his wife was a Hillsboro girl, Matey +Pelham—an awfully nice girl she was, too. They never had any children, +and Matey told me the last time she was back for a visit that she and +her husband talked quite often about adopting a little boy. Seems that +Mr. Pond has always wanted a little boy. He's such a nice man! 'Twould +be a lovely home for a child."</p> + +<p>"But goodness!" said the teacher. "Nobody would want to adopt such an +awful-looking little ragamuffin as that 'Lias. He looks so meeching, +too. I guess his stepfather is real mean to him, when he's been +drinking, and it's got 'Lias so he hardly dares hold his head up."</p> + +<p>The clock struck loudly. "Well, hear that!" said Cousin Ann. "Nine +o'clock and the children not in bed! Molly's most asleep this minute. +Trot along with you, Betsy! Trot along, Molly. And, Betsy, be sure +Molly's nightgown is buttoned up all the way."</p> + +<p>So it happened that, although the grown-ups were evidently going on to +talk about 'Lias Brewster, Betsy heard no more of what they said.</p> + +<p>She herself went on thinking about 'Lias while she was undressing and +answering absently little Molly's chatter. She was thinking about him +even after they had gone to bed, had put the light out, and were lying +snuggled up to each other, back to front, their four legs, crooked at +the same angle, fitting in together neatly like two spoons in a drawer. +She was thinking about him when she woke up, and as soon as she could +get hold of Cousin Ann she poured out a new plan. She had never been +afraid of Cousin Ann since the evening Molly had fallen into the Wolf +Pit and Betsy had seen that pleased smile on Cousin Ann's firm lips. +"Cousin Ann, couldn't we girls at school get together and sew—you'd +have to help us some—and make some nice, new clothes for little 'Lias +Brewster, and fix him up so he'll look better, and maybe that Mr. Pond +will like him and adopt him?"</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann listened attentively and nodded her head. "Yes, I think that +would be a good idea," she said. "We were thinking last night we ought +to do something for him. If you'll make the clothes, Mother'll knit him +some stockings and Father will get him some shoes. Mr. Pond never makes +his spring trip till late May, so we'll have plenty of time."</p> + +<p>Betsy was full of importance that day at school and at recess time got +the girls together on the rocks and told them all about the plan. +"Cousin Ann says she'll help us, and we can meet at our house every +Saturday afternoon till we get them done. It'll be fun! Aunt Abigail +telephoned down to the store right away, and Mr. Wilkins says he'll give +the cloth if we'll make it up."</p> + +<p>Betsy spoke very grandly of "making it up," although she had hardly held +a needle in her life, and when the Saturday afternoon meetings began she +was ashamed to see how much better Ellen and even Eliza could sew than +she. To keep her end up, she was driven to practising her stitches +around the lamp in the evenings, with Aunt Abigail keeping an eye on +her.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann supervised the sewing on Saturday afternoons and taught those +of the little girls whose legs were long enough how to use the sewing +machine. First they made a little pair of trousers out of an old gray +woolen skirt of Aunt Abigail's. This was for practice, before they cut +into the piece of new blue serge that the storekeeper had sent up. +Cousin Ann showed them how to pin the pattern on the goods and they each +cut out one piece. Those flat, queer-shaped pieces of cloth certainly +did look less like a pair of trousers to Betsy than anything she had +ever seen. Then one of the girls read aloud very slowly the +mysterious-sounding directions from the wrapper of the pattern about how +to put the pieces together, Cousin Ann helped here a little, +particularly just as they were about to put the sections together +wrong-side-up. Stashie, as the oldest, did the first basting, putting +the notches together carefully, just as they read the instructions +aloud, and there, all of a sudden, was a rough little sketch of a pair +of knee trousers, without any hem or any waist-band, of course, but just +the two-legged, complicated shape they ought to be! It was like a +miracle to Betsy! Then Cousin Ann helped them sew the seams on the +machine, and they all turned to for the basting of the facings and the +finishing. They each made one buttonhole. It was the first one Betsy had +ever made, and when she got through she was as tired as though she had +run all the way to school and back. Tired, but very proud; although when +Cousin Ann inspected that buttonhole, she covered her face with her +handkerchief for a minute, as though she were going to sneeze, although +she didn't sneeze at all.</p> + +<p>It took them two Saturdays to finish up that trial pair of trousers, and +when they showed the result to Aunt Abigail she was delighted. "Well, to +think of that being my old skirt!" she said, putting on her spectacles +to examine the work. She did not laugh, either, when she saw those +buttonholes, but she got up hastily and went into the next room, where +they soon heard her coughing.</p> + +<p>Then they made a little blouse out of some new blue gingham. Cousin Ann +happened to have enough left over from a dress she was making. This thin +material was ever so much easier to manage than the gray flannel, and +they had the little garment done in no time, even to the buttons and +buttonholes. When it came to making the buttonholes, Cousin Ann sat +right down with each one and supervised every stitch. You may not be +surprised to know that they were a great improvement over the first +batch.</p> + +<p>Then, making a great ceremony of it, they began on the store material, +working twice a week now, because May was slipping along very fast, and +Mr. Pond might be there at any time. They knew pretty well how to go +ahead on this one, after the experience of their first pair, and Cousin +Ann was not much needed, except as adviser in hard places. She sat there +in the room with them, doing some sewing of her own, so quiet that half +the time they forgot she was there. It was great fun, sewing all +together and chattering as they sewed.</p> + +<p>A good deal of the time they talked about how splendid it was of them to +be so kind to little 'Lias. "My! I don't believe most girls would put +themselves out this way for a dirty little boy!" said Stashie, +complacently.</p> + +<p>"No <i>indeed</i>!" chimed in Betsy. "It's just like a story, isn't it—working +and sacrificing for the poor!"</p> + +<p>"I guess he'll thank us all right for sure!" said Ellen. "He'll never +forget us as long as he lives, I don't suppose."</p> + +<p>Betsy, her imagination fired by this suggestion, said, "I guess when +he's grown up he'll be telling everybody about how, when he was so poor +and ragged, Stashie Monahan and Ellen Peters and Elizabeth Ann ..."</p> + +<p>"And Eliza!" put in that little girl hastily, very much afraid she would +not be given her due share of the glory.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann sewed, and listened, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of May two little blouses, two pairs of trousers, two +pairs of stockings, two sets of underwear (contributed by the teacher), +and the pair of shoes Uncle Henry gave were ready. The little girls +handled the pile of new garments with inexpressible pride, and debated +just which way of bestowing them was sufficiently grand to be worthy the +occasion. Betsy was for taking them to school and giving them to 'Lias +one by one, so that each child could have her thanks separately. But +Stashie wanted to take them to the house when 'Lias's stepfather would +be there, and shame him by showing that little girls had had to do what +he ought to have done.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann broke into the discussion by asking, in her quiet, firm +voice, "Why do you want 'Lias to know where the clothes come from?"</p> + +<p>They had forgotten again that she was there, and turned around quickly +to stare at her. Nobody could think of any answer to her very queer +question. It had not occurred to any one that there could <i>be</i> such a +question.</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann shifted her ground and asked another: "Why did you make these +clothes, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>They stared again, speechless. Why did she ask that? She knew why.</p> + +<p>Finally little Molly said, in her honest, baby way, "Why, <i>you</i> know why, +Miss Ann! So 'Lias Brewster will look nice, and Mr. Pond will maybe +adopt him."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Cousin Ann, "what has that got to do with 'Lias knowing who +did it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he wouldn't know who to be grateful to," cried Betsy.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Cousin Ann. "Oh, I see. You didn't do it to help 'Lias. You +did it to have him grateful to you. I see. Molly is such a little girl, +it's no wonder she didn't really take in what you girls were up to." She +nodded her head wisely, as though now she understood.</p> + +<p>But if she did, little Molly certainly did not. She had not the least +idea what everybody was talking about. She looked from one sober, +downcast face to another rather anxiously. What was the matter?</p> + +<p>Apparently nothing was really the matter, she decided, for after a +minute's silence Miss Ann got up with entirely her usual face of +cheerful gravity, and said: "Don't you think you little girls ought to +top off this last afternoon with a tea-party? There's a new batch of +cookies, and you can make yourselves some lemonade if you want to."</p> + +<p>They had these refreshments out on the porch, in the sunshine, with +their dolls for guests and a great deal of chatter for sauce. Nobody +said another word about how to give the clothes to 'Lias, till, just as +the girls were going away, Betsy said, walking along with the two older +ones, "Say, don't you think it'd be fun to go some evening after dark +and leave the clothes on 'Lias's doorstep, and knock and run away quick +before anybody comes to the door?" She spoke in an uncertain voice and +smoothed Deborah's carved wooden curls.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!" said Ellen, not looking at Betsy but down at the weeds by +the road. "I think it would be lots of fun!"</p> + +<p>Little Molly, playing with Annie and Eliza, did not hear this; but she +was allowed to go with the older girls on the great expedition.</p> + +<p>It was a warm, dark evening in late May, with the frogs piping their +sweet, high note, and the first of the fireflies wheeling over the wet +meadows near the tumble-down house where 'Lias lived. The girls took +turns in carrying the big paper-wrapped bundle, and stole along in the +shadow of the trees, full of excitement, looking over their shoulders at +nothing and pressing their hands over their mouths to keep back the +giggles. There was, of course, no reason on earth why they should +giggle, which is, of course, the very reason why they did. If you've +ever been a little girl you know about that.</p> + +<p>One window of the small house was dimly lighted, they found, when they +came in sight of it, and they thrilled with excitement and joyful alarm. +Suppose 'Lias's dreadful stepfather should come out and yell at them! +They came forward on tiptoe, making a great deal of noise by stepping on +twigs, rustling bushes, crackling gravel under their feet and doing all +the other things that make such a noise at night and never do in the +daytime. But nobody stirred inside the room with the lighted window. +They crept forward and peeped cautiously inside ... and stopped giggling. +The dim light coming from a little kerosene lamp with a smoky chimney +fell on a dismal, cluttered room, a bare, greasy wooden table, and two +broken-backed chairs, with little 'Lias in one of them. He had fallen +asleep with his head on his arms, his pinched, dirty, sad little figure +showing in the light from the lamp. His feet dangled high above the +floor in their broken, muddy shoes. One sleeve was torn to the shoulder. +A piece of dry bread had slipped from his bony little hand and a tin +dipper stood beside him on the bare table. Nobody else was in the room, +nor evidently in the darkened, empty, fireless house.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<a name="fallen_asleep" id="fallen_asleep"></a> +<a href="images/fallen_asleep.jpg"> +<img src="images/fallen_asleep_sml.jpg" width="375" height="550" alt="He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms." title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms.</span> +</div> + +<p>As long as she lives Betsy will never forget what she saw that night +through that window. Her eyes grew very hot and her hands very cold. Her +heart thumped hard. She reached for little Molly and gave her a great +hug in the darkness. Suppose it were little Molly asleep there, all +alone in the dirty, dismal house, with no supper and nobody to put her +to bed. She found that Ellen, next her, was crying quietly into the +corner of her apron.</p> + +<p>Nobody said a word. Stashie, who had the bundle, walked around soberly +to the front door, put it down, and knocked loudly. They all darted away +noiselessly to the road, to the shadow of the trees, and waited until +the door opened. A square of yellow light appeared, with 'Lias's figure, +very small, at the bottom of it. They saw him stoop and pick up the +bundle and go back into the house. Then they went quickly and silently +back, separating at the cross-roads with no good-night greetings.</p> + +<p>Molly and Betsy began to climb the hill to Putney Farm. It was a very +warm night for May, and little Molly began to puff for breath. "Let's +sit down on this rock awhile and rest," she said.</p> + +<p>They were half-way up the hill now. From the rock they could see the +lights in the farmhouses scattered along the valley road and on the side +of the mountain opposite them, like big stars fallen from the multitude +above. Betsy lay down on the rock and looked up at the stars. After a +silence little Molly's chirping voice said, "Oh, I thought you said we +were going to march up to 'Lias in school and give him his clothes. Did +you forget about that?"</p> + +<p>Betsy gave a wriggle of shame as she remembered that plan. "No, we +didn't forget it," she said. "We thought this would be a better way."</p> + +<p>"But how'll 'Lias know who to thank?" asked Molly.</p> + +<p>"That's no matter," said Betsy. Yes, it was Elizabeth-Ann-that-was who +said that. And meant it, too. She was not even thinking of what she was +saying. Between her and the stars, thick over her in the black, soft +sky, she saw again that dirty, disordered room and the little boy, all +alone, asleep with a piece of dry bread in his bony little fingers.</p> + +<p>She looked hard and long at that picture, all the time seeing the quiet +stars through it. And then she turned over and hid her face on the rock. +She had said her "Now I lay me" every night since she could remember, +but she had never prayed till she lay there with her face on the rock, +saying over and over, "Oh, God, please, please, <i>please</i> make Mr. Pond +adopt 'Lias."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> +THE NEW CLOTHES FAIL</h3> + +<p>All the little girls went early to school the next day, eager for the +first glimpse of 'Lias in his new clothes. They now quite enjoyed the +mystery about who had made them, and were full of agreeable excitement +as the little figure was seen approaching down the road. He wore the +gray trousers and the little blue shirt; the trousers were a little too +long, the shirt a perfect fit. The girls gazed at him with pride as he +came on the playground, walking briskly along in the new shoes, which +were just the right size. He had been wearing all winter a pair of +cast-off women's shoes. From a distance he looked like another child. +But as he came closer ... oh! his face! his hair! his hands! his +finger-nails! The little fellow had evidently tried to live up to his +beautiful new raiment, for his hair had been roughly put back from his +face, and around his mouth and nose was a small area of almost clean +skin, where he had made an attempt at washing his face. But he had made +practically no impression on the layers of encrusted dirt, and the +little girls looked at him ruefully. Mr. Pond would certainly never take +a fancy to such a dreadfully grimy child! His new, clean clothes made +him look all the worse, as though dirty on purpose!</p> + +<p>The little girls retired to their rock-pile and talked over their bitter +disappointment, Ralph and the other boys absorbed in a game of marbles +near them. 'Lias had gone proudly into the schoolroom to show himself to +Miss Benton.</p> + +<p>It was the day before Decoration Day and a good deal of time was taken +up with practising on the recitations they were going to give at the +Decoration Day exercises in the village. Several of the children from +each school in the township were to speak pieces in the Town Hall. Betsy +was to recite <i>Barbara</i> <i>Frietchie</i> , her first love in that school, but she +droned it over with none of her usual pleasure, her eyes on little +'Lias's smiling face, so unconscious of its dinginess.</p> + +<p>At noon time the boys disappeared down toward the swimming-hole. They +often took a swim at noon and nobody thought anything about it on that +day. The little girls ate their lunch on their rock, mourning over the +failure of their plans, and scheming ways to meet the new obstacle. +Stashie suggested, "Couldn't your Aunt Abigail invite him up to your +house for supper and then give him a bath afterward?" But Betsy, +although she had never heard of treating a supper-guest in this way, was +sure that it was not possible. She shook her head sadly, her eyes on the +far-off gleam of white where the boys jumped up and down in their +swimming-hole. That was not a good name for it, because there was only +one part of it deep enough to swim in. Mostly it was a shallow bay in an +arm of the river, where the water was only up to a little boy's knees +and where there was almost no current. The sun beating down on it made +it quite warm, and even the first-graders' mothers allowed them to go +in. They only jumped up and down and squealed and splashed each other, +but they enjoyed that quite as much as Frank and Harry, the two +seventh-graders, enjoyed their swooping dives from the spring-board over +the pool. They were late in getting back from the river that day and +Miss Benton had to ring her bell hard in that direction before they came +trooping up and clattered into the schoolroom, where the girls already +sat, their eyes lowered virtuously to their books, with a prim air of +self-righteousness. <i>They</i> were never late!</p> + +<p>Betsy was reciting her arithmetic. She was getting on famously with +that. Weeks ago, as soon as Miss Benton had seen the confusion of the +little girl's mind, the two had settled down to a serious struggle with +that subject. Miss Benton had had Betsy recite all by herself, so she +wouldn't be flurried by the others; and to begin with had gone back, +back, back to bedrock, to things Betsy absolutely knew, to the 2x2's and +the 3x3's. And then, very cautiously, a step at a time, they had +advanced, stopping short whenever Betsy felt a beginning of that +bewildered "guessing" impulse which made her answer wildly at random.</p> + +<p>After a while, in the dark night which arithmetic had always been to +her, Betsy began to make out a few definite outlines, which were always +there, facts which she knew to be so without guessing from the +expression of her teacher's face. From that moment her progress had been +rapid, one sure fact hooking itself on to another, and another one on to +that. She attacked a page of problems now with a zest and +self-confidence which made her arithmetic lessons among the most +interesting hours at school. On that day she was standing up at the +board, a piece of chalk in her hand, chewing her tongue and thinking +hard how to find out the amount of wall-paper needed for a room 12 feet +square with two doors and two windows in it, when her eye fell on little +'Lias, bent over his reading book. She forgot her arithmetic, she forgot +where she was. She stared and stared, till Ellen, catching the direction +of her eyes, looked and stared too. Little 'Lias was <i>clean</i>, +preternaturally, almost wetly clean. His face was clean and shining, his +ears shone pink and fair, his hands were absolutely spotless, even his +hay-colored hair was clean and, still damp, brushed flatly back till it +shone in the sun. Betsy blinked her eyes a great many times, thinking +she must be dreaming, but every time she opened them there was 'Lias, +looking white and polished like a new willow whistle.</p> + +<p>Somebody poked her hard in the ribs. She started and, turning, saw +Ralph, who was doing a sum beside her on the board, scowling at her +under his black brows. "Quit gawking at 'Lias," he said under his +breath. "You make me tired!" Something conscious and shame-faced in his +manner made Betsy understand at once what had happened. Ralph had taken +'Lias down to the little boys' wading-place and had washed him all over. +She remembered now that they had a piece of yellow soap there.</p> + +<p>Her face broke into a radiant smile and she began to say something to +Ralph about how nice that was of him, but he frowned again and said, +crossly, "Aw, cut it out! Look at what you've done there! If I couldn't +9 x 8 and get it right!"</p> + +<p>"How queer boys are!" thought Betsy, erasing her mistake and putting +down the right answer. But she did not try to speak to Ralph again about +'Lias, not even after school, when she saw 'Lias going home with a new +cap on his head which she recognized as Ralph's. She just looked at +Ralph's bare head, and smiled her eyes at him, keeping the rest of her +face sober, the way Cousin Ann did. For just a minute Ralph almost +smiled back. At least he looked quite friendly. They stepped along +toward home together, the first time Ralph had ever condescended to walk +beside a girl.</p> + +<p>"We got a new colt," he said.</p> + +<p>"Have you?" she said. "What color?"</p> + +<p>"Black, with a white star, and they're going to let me ride him when +he's old enough."</p> + +<p>"My! Won't that be nice!" said Betsy.</p> + +<p>And all the time they were both thinking of little 'Lias with his new +clothes and his sweet, thin face shining with cleanliness.</p> + +<p>"Do you like spruce gum?" asked Ralph.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>I love</i> gum!" said Betsy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll bring you down a chunk tomorrow, if I don't forget it," said +Ralph, turning off at the cross-roads.</p> + +<p>They had not mentioned 'Lias at all.</p> + +<p>The next day they were to have school only in the morning. In the +afternoon they were to go in a big hay-wagon down to the village to the +"exercises." 'Lias came to school in his new blue-serge trousers and his +white blouse. The little girls gloated over his appearance, and hung +around him, for who was to "visit school" that morning but Mr. Pond +himself! Cousin Ann had arranged it somehow. It took Cousin Ann to fix +things! During recess, as they were playing still-pond-no-more-moving on +the playground, Mr. Pond and Uncle Henry drew up to the edge of the +playground, stopped their horse, and, talking and laughing together, +watched the children at play. Betsy looked hard at the big, burly, +kind-faced man with the smiling eyes and the hearty laugh, and decided +that he would "do" perfectly for 'Lias. But what she decided was to have +little importance, apparently, for after all he would not get out of the +wagon, but said he'd have to drive right on to the village. Just like +that, with no excuse other than a careless glance at his watch. No, he +guessed he wouldn't have time, this morning, he said. Betsy cast an +imploring look up into Uncle Henry's face, but evidently he felt himself +quite helpless, too. Oh, if only Cousin Ann had come! <i>She</i> would have +marched him into the schoolhouse double-quick. But Uncle Henry was not +Cousin Ann, and though Betsy saw him, as they drove away, +conscientiously point out little 'Lias, resplendent and shining, Mr. +Pond only nodded absently, as though, he were thinking of something +else.</p> + +<p>Betsy could have cried with disappointment; but she and the other girls, +putting their heads together for comfort, told each other that there was +time enough yet. Mr. Pond would not leave town till tomorrow. +Perhaps ... there was still some hope.</p> + +<p>But that afternoon even this last hope was dashed. As they gathered at +the schoolhouse, the girls fresh and crisp in their newly starched +dresses, with red or blue hair-ribbons, the boys very self-conscious in +their dark suits, clean collars, new caps (all but Ralph), and blacked +shoes, there was no little 'Lias. They waited and waited, but there was +no sign of him. Finally Uncle Henry, who was to drive the straw-ride +down to town, looked at his watch, gathered up the reins, and said they +would be late if they didn't start right away. Maybe 'Lias had had a +chance to ride in with somebody else.</p> + +<p>They all piled in, the horses stepped off, the wheels grated on the +stones. And just at that moment a dismal sound of sobbing wails reached +them from the woodshed back of the schoolhouse. The children tumbled out +as fast as they had tumbled in, and ran back, Betsy and Ralph at their +head. There in the woodshed was little 'Lias, huddled in the corner +behind some wood, crying and crying and crying, digging his fists into +his eyes, his face all smeared with tears and dirt. And he was dressed +again in his filthy, torn old overalls and ragged shirt. His poor little +bare feet shone with a piteous cleanliness in that dark place.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? What's the matter?" the children asked him all at +once. He flung himself on Ralph, burying his face in the other boy's +coat, and sobbed out some disjointed story which only Ralph could +hear ... and then as last and final climax of the disaster, who should +come looking over the shoulders of the children but Uncle Henry <i>and</i> Mr. +Pond! And 'Lias all ragged and dirty again! Betsy sat down weakly on a +pile of wood, utterly disheartened. What was the use of anything!</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked the two men together.</p> + +<p>Ralph turned, with an angry toss of his dark head, and told them +bitterly, over the heads of the children: "He just had some decent +clothes. ... First ones he's <i>ever</i> had! And he was plotting on going to +the exercises in the Town Hall. And that darned old skunk of a +stepfather has gone and taken 'em and sold 'em to get whiskey. I'd like +to <i>kill</i> him!"</p> + +<p>Betsy could have flung her arms around Ralph, he looked so exactly the +way she felt. "Yes, he is a darned old skunk!" she said to herself, +rejoicing in the bad words she did not know before. It <i>took</i> bad words to +qualify what had happened.</p> + +<p>She saw an electric spark pass from Ralph's blazing eyes to Mr. Pond's +broad face, now grim and fierce. She saw Mr. Pond step forward, brushing +the children out of his way, like a giant among dwarfs. She saw him +stoop and pick little 'Lias up in his great, strong arms, and, holding +him close, stride furiously out of the woodshed, across the playground +to the buggy which was waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"He'll go to the exercises all right!" he called back over his shoulder +in a great roar. "He'll go, if I have to buy out the whole town to get +him an outfit! And that whelp won't get these clothes, either; you hear +me say so!"</p> + +<p>He sprang into the buggy and, holding 'Lias on his lap, took up the +reins and drove rapidly forward.</p> + +<p>They saw little 'Lias again, entering the Town Hall, holding fast to Mr. +Pond's hand. He was magnificent in a whole suit of store clothes, coat +and all, and he wore white stockings and neat, low shoes, like a city +child!</p> + +<p>They saw him later, up on the platform, squeaking out his little +patriotic poem, his eyes, shining like stars, fixed on one broad, +smiling face in the audience. When he finished he was overcome with +shyness by the applause, and for a moment forgot to turn and leave the +platform. He hung his head, and, looking out from under his eyebrows, +gave a quaint, shy little smile at the audience. Betsy saw Mr. Pond's +great smile waver and grow dim. His eyes filled so full that he had to +take out his handkerchief and blow his nose loudly.</p> + +<p>And they saw little 'Lias once more, for the last time. Mr. Pond's buggy +drove rapidly past their slow-moving hay-wagon, Mr. Pond holding the +reins masterfully in one hand. Beside him, very close, sat 'Lias with +his lap full of toys, oh, <i>full</i>—like Christmas! In that fleeting glimpse +they saw a toy train, a stuffed dog, a candy-box, a pile of +picture-books, tops, paper-bags, and even the swinging crane of the big +mechanical toy dredge that everybody said the storekeeper could never +sell to anybody because it cost so much!</p> + +<p>As they passed swiftly, 'Lias looked out at them and waved his little +hand flutteringly. His other hand was tightly clasped in Mr. Pond's big +one. He was smiling at them all. His eyes looked dazed and radiant. He +turned his head as the buggy flashed by to call out, in a shrill, +exulting little shout, "Good-bye! Good-bye! I'm going to live with ..." +They could hear no more. He was gone, only his little hand still waving +at them over the back of the buggy seat.</p> + +<p>Betsy drew a long, long breath. She found that Ralph was looking at her. +For a moment she couldn't think what made him look so different. Then +she saw that he was smiling. She had never seen him smile before. He +smiled at her as though he were sure she would understand, and never +said a word. Betsy looked forward again and saw the gleaming buggy +vanishing over the hill in front of them. She smiled back at Ralph +silently.</p> + +<p>Not a thing had happened the way she had planned; no, not a single +thing! But it seemed to her she had never been so happy in her life.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> +BETSY HAS A BIRTHDAY</h3> + +<p>Betsy's birthday was the ninth day of September, and the Necronsett +Valley Fair is always held from the eighth to the twelfth. So it was +decided that Betsy should celebrate her birthday by going up to +Woodford, where the Fair was held. The Putneys weren't going that year, +but the people on the next farm, the Wendells, said they could make room +in their surrey for the two little girls; for, of course, Molly was +going, too. In fact, she said the Fair was held partly to celebrate her +being six years old. This would happen on the seventeenth of October. +Molly insisted that that was <i>plenty</i> close enough to the ninth of +September to be celebrated then. This made Betsy feel like laughing out, +but observing that the Putneys only looked at each other with the +faintest possible quirk in the corners of their serious mouths, she +understood that they were afraid that Molly's feelings might be hurt if +they laughed out loud. So Betsy tried to curve her young lips to the +same kind and secret mirth.</p> + +<p>And, I can't tell you why, this effort not to hurt Molly's feelings made +her have a perfect spasm of love for Molly. She threw herself on her and +gave her a great hug that tipped them both over on the couch on top of +Shep, who stopped snoring with his great gurgling snort, wriggled out +from under them, and stood with laughing eyes and wagging tail, looking +at them as they rolled and giggled among the pillows.</p> + +<p>"What dress are you going to wear to the Fair, Betsy?" asked Cousin Ann. +"And we must decide about Molly's, too."</p> + +<p>This stopped their rough-and-tumble fun in short order, and they applied +themselves to the serious question of a toilet.</p> + +<p>When the great day arrived and the surrey drove away from the Wendells' +gate, Betsy was in a fresh pink-and-white gingham which she had helped +Cousin Ann make, and plump Molly looked like something good to eat in a +crisp white little dimity, one of Betsy's old dresses, with a deep hem +taken in to make it short enough for the little butter-ball. Because it +was Betsy's birthday, she sat on the front seat with Mr. Wendell, and +part of the time, when there were not too many teams on the road, she +drove, herself. Mrs. Wendell and her sister filled the back seat solidly +full from side to side and made one continuous soft lap on which Molly +happily perched, her eyes shining, her round cheeks red with joyful +excitement. Betsy looked back at her several times and thought how very +nice Molly looked. She had, of course, little idea how she herself +looked, because the mirrors at Putney Farm were all small and high up, +and anyhow they were so old and greenish that they made everybody look +very queer-colored. You looked in them to see if your hair was smooth, +and that was about all you could stand.</p> + +<p>So it was a great surprise to Betsy later in the morning, as she and +Molly wandered hand in hand through the wonders of Industrial Hall, to +catch sight of Molly in a full-length mirror as clear as water. She was +almost startled to see how faithfully reflected were the yellow of the +little girl's curls, the clear pink and white of her face, and the blue +of her soft eyes. An older girl was reflected there also, near Molly, a +dark-eyed, red-cheeked, sturdy little girl, standing very straight on +two strong legs, holding her head high and free, her dark eyes looking +out brightly from her tanned face. For an instant Betsy gazed into those +clear eyes and then ... why, gracious goodness! That was herself she was +looking at! How changed she was! How very, very different she looked +from the last time she had seen herself in a big mirror! She remembered +it well—out shopping with Aunt Frances in a department store, she had +caught sight of a pale little girl, with a thin neck, and spindling legs +half-hidden in the folds of Aunt Frances's skirts. But she didn't look +even like the sister of this browned, muscular, upstanding child who +held Molly's hand so firmly.</p> + +<p>All this came into her mind and went out again in a moment, for Molly +caught sight of a big doll in the next aisle and they hurried over to +inspect her clothing. The mirror was forgotten in the many exciting +sights and sounds and smells of their first county fair.</p> + +<p>The two little girls were to wander about as they pleased until noon, +when they were to meet the Wendells in the shadow of Industrial Hall and +eat their picnic lunch together. The two parties arrived together from +different directions, having seen very different sides of the Fair. The +children were full of the merry-go-rounds, the balloon-seller, the +toy-venders, and the pop-corn stands, while the Wendells exchanged views +on the shortness of a hog's legs, the dip in a cow's back, and the +thickness of a sheep's wool. The Wendells, it seemed, had met some +cousins they didn't expect to see, who, not knowing about Betsy and +Molly, had hoped that they might ride home with the Wendells.</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose," Mrs. Wendell asked Betsy, "that you and Molly could +go home with the Vaughans? They're here in their big wagon. You could +sit on the floor with the Vaughan children."</p> + +<p>Betsy and Molly thought this would be great fun, and agreed +enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"All right then," said Mrs. Wendell. She called to a young man who stood +inside the building, near an open window: "Oh, Frank, Will Vaughan is +going to be in your booth this afternoon, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said the young man. "His turn is from two to four."</p> + +<p>"Well, you tell him, will you, that the two little girls who live at +Putney Farm are going to go home with them. They can sit on the bottom +of the wagon with the Vaughan young ones."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said the young man, with a noticeable lack of interest in +how Betsy and Molly got home.</p> + +<p>"Now, Betsy," said Mrs. Wendell, "you go round to that booth at two and +ask Will Vaughan what time they're going to start and where their wagon +is, and then you be sure not to keep them waiting a minute."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," said Betsy. "I'll be sure to be there on time."</p> + +<p>She and Molly still had twenty cents to spend out of the forty they had +brought with them, twenty-five earned by berry-picking and fifteen a +present from Uncle Henry. They now put their heads together to see how +they could make the best possible use of their four nickels. Cousin Ann +had put no restrictions whatever on them, saying they could buy any sort +of truck or rubbish they could find, except the pink lemonade. She said +she had been told the venders washed their glasses in that, and their +hands, and for all she knew their faces. Betsy was for merry-go-rounds, +but Molly yearned for a big red balloon; and while they were buying that +a man came by with toy dogs, little brown dogs with curled-wire tails. +He called out that they would bark when you pulled their tails, and +seeing the little girls looking at him he pulled the tail of the one he +held. It gave forth a fine loud yelp, just like Shep when his tail got +stepped on. Betsy bought one, all done up neatly in a box tied with blue +string. She thought it a great bargain to get a dog who would bark for +five cents. (Later on, when they undid the string and opened the box, +they found the dog had one leg broken off and wouldn't make the faintest +squeak when his tail was pulled; but that is the sort of thing you must +expect to have happen to you at a county fair.)</p> + +<p>Now they had ten cents left and they decided to have a ride apiece on +the merry-go-round. But, glancing up at the clock-face in the tower over +Agricultural Hall, Betsy noticed it was half-past two and she decided to +go first to the booth where Will Vaughan was to be and find out what +time they would start for home. She found the booth with no difficulty, +but William Vaughan was not in it. Nor was the young man she had seen +before. There was a new one, a strange one, a careless, whistling young +man, with very bright socks, very yellow shoes, and very striped cuffs. +He said, in answer to Betsy's inquiry: "Vaughan? Will Vaughan? Never +heard the name," and immediately went on whistling and looking up and +down the aisle over the heads of the little girls, who stood gazing up +at him with very wide, startled eyes. An older man leaned over from the +next booth and said: "Will Vaughan? He from Hillsboro? Well, I heard +somebody say those Hillsboro Vaughans had word one of their cows was +awful sick, and they had to start right home that minute."</p> + +<p>Betsy came to herself out of her momentary daze and snatched Molly's +hand. "Hurry! quick! We must find the Wendells before they get away!" In +her agitation (for she was really very much frightened) she forgot how +easily terrified little Molly was. Her alarm instantly sent the child +into a panic. "Oh, Betsy! Betsy! What will we do!" she gasped, as Betsy +pulled her along the aisle and out of the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Wendells can't be gone yet," said Betsy reassuringly, though +she was not at all sure she was telling the truth. She ran as fast as +she could drag Molly's fat legs, to the horse-shed where Mr. Wendell had +tied his horses and left the surrey. The horse-shed was empty, quite +empty.</p> + +<p>Betsy stopped short and stood still, her heart seeming to be up in her +throat so that she could hardly breathe. After all, she was only ten +that day, you must remember. Molly began to cry loudly, hiding her +weeping face in Betsy's dress. "What will we do, Betsy! What can we <i>do</i>!" +she wailed.</p> + +<p>Betsy did not answer. She did not know what they <i>would</i> do! They were +eight miles from Putney Farm, far too much for Molly to walk, and anyhow +neither of them knew the way. They had only ten cents left, and nothing +to eat. And the only people they knew in all that throng of strangers +had gone back to Hillsboro.</p> + +<p>"What will we do, Betsy?" Molly kept on crying out, horrified by Betsy's +silence and evident consternation.</p> + +<p>The other child's head swam. She tried again the formula which had +helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself, +desperately, "What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!" But that did +not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what +Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances. Yes, one thing +Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first +of all.</p> + +<p>At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken +little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly, +"Now, Molly, stop crying this minute. I'll take care of you, of course. +I'll get you home all right."</p> + +<p>"How'll you ever do it?" sobbed Molly.</p> + +<p>"Everybody's gone and left us. We can't walk!"</p> + +<p>"Never you mind how," said Betsy, trying to be facetious and +mock-mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little. +"That's my surprise party for you. Just you wait. Now come on back to +that booth. Maybe Will Vaughan didn't go home with his folks."</p> + +<p>She had very little hope of this, and only went back there because it +seemed to her a little less dauntingly strange than every other spot in +the howling wilderness about her; for all at once the Fair, which had +seemed so lively and cheerful and gay before, seemed now a horrible, +frightening, noisy place, full of hurried strangers who came and went +their own ways, with not a glance out of their hard eyes for two little +girls stranded far from home.</p> + +<p>The bright-colored young man was no better when they found him again. He +stopped his whistling only long enough to say, "Nope, no Will Vaughan +anywhere around these diggings yet."</p> + +<p>"We were going home with the Vaughans," murmured Betsy, in a low tone, +hoping for some help from him.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though you'd better go home on the cars," advised the young +man casually. He smoothed his black hair back straighter than ever from +his forehead and looked over their heads.</p> + +<p>"How much does it cost to go to Hillsboro on the cars?" asked Betsy with +a sinking heart.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to ask somebody else about that," said the young man. "What +I don't know about this Rube state! I never was in it before." He spoke +as though he were very proud of the fact.</p> + +<p>Betsy turned and went over to the older man who had told them about the +Vaughans.</p> + +<p>Molly trotted at her heels, quite comforted, now that Betsy was talking +so competently to grown-ups. She did not hear what they said, nor try +to. Now that Betsy's voice sounded all right she had no more fears. +Betsy would manage somehow. She heard Betsy's voice again talking to the +other man, but she was busy looking at an exhibit of beautiful jelly +glasses, and paid no attention. Then Betsy led her away again out of +doors, where everybody was walking back and forth under the bright +September sky, blowing on horns, waving plumes of brilliant +tissue-paper, tickling each other with peacock feathers, and eating +pop-corn and candy out of paper bags.</p> + +<p>That reminded Molly that they had ten cents yet. "Oh, Betsy," she +proposed, "let's take a nickel of our money for some pop-corn."</p> + +<p>She was startled by Betsy's fierce sudden clutch at their little purse +and by the quaver in her voice as she answered: "No, no, Molly. We've +got to save every cent of that. I've found out it costs thirty cents for +us both to go home to Hillsboro on the train. The last one goes at six +o'clock."</p> + +<p>"We haven't got but ten," said Molly.</p> + +<p>Betsy looked at her silently for a moment and then burst out, "I'll earn +the rest! I'll earn it somehow! I'll have to! There isn't any other +way!"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Molly quaintly, not seeing anything unusual in this. +"You can, if you want to. I'll wait for you here."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't!" cried Betsy, who had quite enough of trying to meet +people in a crowd. "No, you won't! You just follow me every minute! I +don't want you out of my sight!"</p> + +<p>They began to move forward now, Betsy's eyes wildly roving from one +place to another. How <i>could</i> a little girl earn money at a county fair! +She was horribly afraid to go up and speak to a stranger, and yet how +else could she begin?</p> + +<p>"Here, Molly, you wait here," she said. "Don't you budge till I come +back."</p> + +<p>But alas! Molly had only a moment to wait that time, for the man who was +selling lemonade answered Betsy's shy question with a stare and a curt, +"Lord, no! What could a young one like you do for me?"</p> + +<p>The little girls wandered on, Molly calm and expectant, confident in +Betsy; Betsy with a very dry mouth and a very gone feeling. They were +passing by a big shed-like building now, where a large sign proclaimed +that the Woodford Ladies' Aid Society would serve a hot chicken dinner +for thirty-five cents. Of course the sign was not accurate, for at +half-past three, almost four, the chicken dinner had long ago been all +eaten and in place of the diners was a group of weary women moving +languidly about or standing saggingly by a great table piled with dirty +dishes. Betsy paused here, meditated a moment, and went in rapidly so +that her courage would not evaporate.</p> + +<p>The woman with gray hair looked down at her a little impatiently and +said, "Dinner's all over."</p> + +<p>"I didn't come for dinner," said Betsy, swallowing hard. "I came to see +if you wouldn't hire me to wash your dishes. I'll do them for +twenty-five cents."</p> + +<p>The woman laughed, looked from little Betsy to the great pile of dishes, +and said, turning away, "Mercy, child, if you washed from now till +morning, you wouldn't make a hole in what we've got to do."</p> + +<p>Betsy heard her say to the other women, "Some young one wanting more +money for the side-shows."</p> + +<p>Now, now was the moment to remember what Cousin Ann would have done. She +would certainly not have shaken all over with hurt feelings nor have +allowed the tears to come stingingly to her eyes. So Betsy sternly made +herself stop doing these things. And Cousin Ann wouldn't have given way +to the dreadful sinking feeling of utter discouragement, but would have +gone right on to the next place. So, although Betsy felt like nothing so +much as crooking her elbow over her face and crying as hard as she could +cry, she stiffened her back, took Molly's hand again, and stepped out, +heart-sick within but very steady (although rather pale) without.</p> + +<p>She and Molly walked along in the crowd again, Molly laughing and +pointing out the pranks and antics of the young people, who were feeling +livelier than ever as the afternoon wore on. Betsy looked at them grimly +with unseeing eyes. It was four o'clock. The last train for Hillsboro +left in two hours and she was no nearer having the price of the tickets. +She stopped for a moment to get her breath; for, although they were +walking slowly, she kept feeling breathless and choked. It occurred to +her that if ever a little girl had had a more horrible birthday she +never heard of one!</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I could, Dan!" said a young voice near her. "But honest! +Momma'd just eat me up alive if I left the booth for a minute!"</p> + +<p>Betsy turned quickly. A very pretty girl with yellow hair and blue eyes +(she looked as Molly might when she was grown up) was leaning over the +edge of a little canvas-covered booth, the sign of which announced that +home-made doughnuts and soft drinks were for sale there. A young man, +very flushed and gay, was pulling at the girl's blue gingham sleeve. +"Oh, come on, Annie. Just one turn! The floor's elegant. You can keep an +eye on the booth from the hall! Nobody's going to run away with the old +thing anyhow!''</p> + +<p>"Honest, I'd love to! But I got a great lot of dishes to wash, too! You +know Momma!" She looked longingly toward the open-air dancing floor, out +from which just then floated a burst of brazen music.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>please</i>!" said a small voice. "I'll do it for twenty cents."</p> + +<p>Betsy stood by the girl's elbow, all quivering earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Do what, kiddie?" asked the girl in a good-natured surprise.</p> + +<p>"Everything!" said Betsy, compendiously. "Everything! Wash the dishes, +tend the booth; <i>you</i> can go dance! I'll do it for twenty cents."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the girl and the man met in high amusement. "My! Aren't we +up and coming!" said the man. "You're most as big as a pint-cup, aren't +you?" he said to Betsy.</p> + +<p>The little girl flushed—she detested being laughed at—but she looked +straight into the laughing eyes. "I'm ten years old today," she said, +"and I can wash dishes as well as anybody." She spoke with dignity.</p> + +<p>The young man burst out into a great laugh.</p> + +<p>"Great kid, what!" he said to the girl, and then, "Say, Annie, why not? +Your mother won't be here for an hour. The kid can keep folks from +walking off with the dope and ..."</p> + +<p>"I'll do the dishes, too," repeated Betsy, trying hard not to mind being +laughed at, and keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the tickets to +Hillsboro.</p> + +<p>"Well, by gosh," said the young man, laughing. "Here's our chance, +Annie, for fair! Come along!"</p> + +<p>The girl laughed, too, out of high spirits. "Wouldn't Momma be crazy!" +she said hilariously. "But she'll never know. Here, you cute kid, here's +my apron." She took off her long apron and tied it around Betsy's neck. +"There's the soap, there's the table. You stack the dishes up on that +counter."</p> + +<p>She was out of the little gate in the counter in a twinkling, just as +Molly, in answer to a beckoning gesture from Betsy, came in. "Hello, +there's another one!" said the gay young man, gayer and gayer. "Hello, +button! What you going to do? I suppose when they try to crack the safe +you'll run at them and bark and drive them away!"</p> + +<p>Molly opened her sweet, blue eyes very wide, not understanding a single +word. The girl laughed, swooped back, gave Molly a kiss, and +disappeared, running side by side with the young man toward the dance +hall.</p> + +<p>Betsy mounted on a soap box and began joyfully to wash the dishes. She +had never thought that ever in her life would she simply <i>love</i> to wash +dishes beyond anything else! But it was so. Her relief was so great that +she could have kissed the coarse, thick plates and glasses as she washed +them.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Molly; it's all right!" she quavered exultantly to +Molly over her shoulder. But as Molly had not (from the moment Betsy +took command) suspected that it was not all right, she only nodded and +asked if she might sit up on a barrel where she could watch the crowd go +by.</p> + +<p>"I guess you could. I don't know why <i>not</i>," said Betsy doubtfully. She +lifted her up and went back to her dishes. Never were dishes washed +better!</p> + +<p>"Two doughnuts, please," said a man's voice behind her.</p> + +<p>Oh, mercy, there was somebody come to buy! Whatever should she do? She +came forward intending to say that the owner of the booth was away and +she didn't know anything about ... but the man laid down a nickel, took +two doughnuts, and turned away. Betsy gasped and looked at the home-made +sign stuck into the big pan of doughnuts. Sure enough, it read "2 for +5." She put the nickel up on a shelf and went back to her dishwashing. +Selling things wasn't so hard, she reflected.</p> + +<p>As her hunted feeling of desperation relaxed she began to find some fun +in her new situation, and when a woman with two little boys approached +she came forward to wait on her, elated, important. "Two for five," she +said in a businesslike tone. The woman put down a dime, took up four +doughnuts, divided them between her sons, and departed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"> +<a name="dishes_washed" id="dishes_washed"></a> +<a href="images/dishes_washed.jpg"> +<img src="images/dishes_washed_sml.jpg" width="372" height="550" alt="Never were dishes washed better!" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Never were dishes washed better!</span> +</div> + +<p>"My!" said Molly, looking admiringly at Betsy's coolness over this +transaction. Betsy went back to her dishes, stepping high.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Betsy, see! The pig! The big ox!" cried Molly now, looking from her +coign of vantage down the wide, grass-grown lane between the booths.</p> + +<p>Betsy craned her head around over her shoulder, continuing +conscientiously to wash and wipe the dishes. The prize stock was being +paraded around the Fair; the great prize ox, his shining horns tipped +with blue rosettes; the prize cows, with wreaths around their necks; the +prize horses, four or five of them as glossy as satin, curving their +bright, strong necks and stepping as though on eggs, their manes and +tails braided with bright ribbon; and then, "Oh, Betsy, <i>look</i> at the +pig!" screamed Molly again—the smaller animals, the sheep, the calves, +the colts, and the pig, which waddled along with portly dignity.</p> + +<p>Betsy looked as well as she could over her shoulder ... and in years to +come she can shut her eyes and see again in every detail that rustic +procession under the golden, September light.</p> + +<p>But she looked anxiously at the clock. It was nearing five. Oh, suppose +the girl forgot and danced too long!</p> + +<p>"Two bottles of ginger ale and half a dozen doughnuts," said a man with +a woman and three children.</p> + +<p>Betsy looked feverishly among the bottles ranged on the counter, +selected two marked ginger ale, and glared at their corrugated tin +stoppers. How <i>did</i> you get them open?</p> + +<p>"Here's your opener," said the man, "if that's what you're looking for. +Here, you get the glasses and I'll open the bottles. We're in kind of a +hurry. Got to catch a train."</p> + +<p>Well, they were not the only people who had to catch a train, Betsy +thought sadly. They drank in gulps and departed, cramming doughnuts into +their mouths. Betsy wished ardently that the girl would come back. She +was now almost sure that she had forgotten and would dance there till +nightfall. But there, there she came, running along, as light-footed +after an hour's dancing as when she had left the booth.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, kid," said the young man, producing a quarter. "We've had +the time of our young lives, thanks to you."</p> + +<p>Betsy gave him back one of the nickels that remained to her, but he +refused it.</p> + +<p>"No, keep the change," he said royally. "It was worth it."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll buy two doughnuts with my extra nickel," said Betsy.</p> + +<p>"No, you won't," said the girl. "You'll take all you want for nothing ... +Momma'll never miss 'em. And what you sell here has got to be fresh +every day. Here, hold out your hands, both of you."</p> + +<p>"Some people came and bought things," said Betsy, happening to remember +as she and Molly turned away. "The money is on that shelf."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>now</i>!" said the girl, "if she didn't take hold and sell things! +Say ... "—she ran after Betsy and gave her a hug—"you smart young one, +I wish't I had a little sister just like you!"</p> + +<p>Molly and Betsy hurried along out of the gate into the main street of +the town and down to the station. Molly was eating doughnuts as she +went. They were both quite hungry by this time, but Betsy could not +think of eating till she had those tickets in her hand.</p> + +<p>She pushed her quarter and a nickel into the ticket-seller's window and +said "Hillsboro" in as confident a tone as she could; but when the +precious bits of paper were pushed out at her and she actually held +them, her knees shook under her and she had to go and sit down on the +bench.</p> + +<p>"My! Aren't these doughnuts good?" said Molly. "I never in my life had +<i>enough</i> doughnuts before!"</p> + +<p>Betsy drew a long breath and began rather languidly to eat one herself; +she felt, all of a sudden, very, very tired.</p> + +<p>She was tireder still when they got out of the train at Hillsboro +Station and started wearily up the road toward Putney Farm. Two miles +lay before them, two miles which they had often walked before, but never +after such a day as now lay back of them. Molly dragged her feet as she +walked and hung heavily on Betsy's hand. Betsy plodded along, her head +hanging, her eyes all gritty with fatigue and sleepiness. A light buggy +spun round the turn of the road behind them, the single horse trotting +fast as though the driver were in a hurry, the wheels rattling smartly +on the hard road. The little girls drew out to one side and stood +waiting till the road should be free again. When he saw them the driver +pulled the horse back so quickly it stood almost straight up. He peered +at them through the twilight and then with a loud shout sprang over the +side of the buggy.</p> + +<p>It was Uncle Henry—oh, goody, it was Uncle Henry come to meet them! +They wouldn't have to walk any further!</p> + +<p>But what was the matter with Uncle Henry? He ran up to them, exclaiming, +"Are ye all right? Are ye all right?" He stooped over and felt of them +desperately as though he expected them to be broken somewhere. And Betsy +could feel that his old hands were shaking, that he was trembling all +over. When she said, "Why, yes, Uncle Henry, we're all right. We came +home on the cars," Uncle Henry leaned up against the fence as though he +couldn't stand up. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead and he +said—it didn't seem as though it could be Uncle Henry talking, he +sounded so excited—"Well, well—well, by gosh! My! Well, by thunder! +Now! And so here ye are! And you're all right! <i>Well</i>!"</p> + +<p>He couldn't seem to stop exclaiming, and you can't imagine anything +stranger than an Uncle Henry who couldn't stop exclaiming.</p> + +<p>After they all got into the buggy he quieted down a little and said, +"Thunderation! But we've had a scare! When the Wendells come back with +their cousins early this afternoon, they said you were coming with the +Vaughans. And then when you didn't come and <i>didn't</i> come, we telephoned +to the Vaughans, and they said they hadn't seen hide nor hair of ye, and +didn't even know you were <i>to</i> the Fair at all! I tell you, your Aunt +Abigail and I had an awful turn! Ann and I hitched up quicker'n scat and +she put right out with Prince up toward Woodford and I took Jessie down +this way; thought maybe I'd get trace of ye somewhere here. Well, land!" +He wiped his forehead again. "Wa'n't I glad to see you standin' +there ... get along, Jess! I want to get the news to Abigail soon as I +can!"</p> + +<p>"Now tell me what in thunder <i>did</i> happen to you!"</p> + +<p>Betsy began at the beginning and told straight through, interrupted at +first by indignant comments from Uncle Henry, who was outraged by the +Wendells' loose wearing of their responsibility for the children. But as +she went on he quieted down to a closely attentive silence, interrupting +only to keep Jess at her top speed.</p> + +<p>Now that it was all safely over, Betsy thought her story quite an +interesting one, and she omitted no detail, although she wondered once +or twice if perhaps Uncle Henry were listening to her, he kept so still. +"And so I bought the tickets and we got home," she ended, adding, "Oh, +Uncle Henry, you ought to have seen the prize pig! He was <i>too</i> funny!"</p> + +<p>They turned into the Putney yard now and saw Aunt Abigail's bulky form +on the porch.</p> + +<p>"Got 'em, Abby! All right! No harm done!" shouted Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail turned without a word and went back into the house. When +the little girls dragged their weary legs in they found her quietly +setting out some supper for them on the table, but she was wiping away +with her apron the joyful tears which ran down her cheeks, such white +cheeks! It seemed so strange to see rosy Aunt Abigail with a face like +paper.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad to see ye," she told them soberly. "Sit right down and +have some hot milk. I had some all ready."</p> + +<p>The telephone rang, she went into the next room, and they heard her +saying, in an unsteady voice: "All right, Ann. They're here. Your father +just brought them in. I haven't had time to hear about what happened +yet. But they're all right. You'd better come home."</p> + +<p>"That's your Cousin Ann telephoning from the Marshalls'."</p> + +<p>She herself went and sat down heavily, and when Uncle Henry came in a +few minutes later she asked him in a rather weak voice for the ammonia +bottle. He rushed for it, got her a fan and a drink of cold water, and +hung over her anxiously till the color began to come back into her pale +face. "I know just how you feel, Mother," he said sympathetically. "When +I saw 'em standin' there by the roadside I felt as though somebody had +hit me a clip right in the pit of the stomach."</p> + +<p>The little girls ate their supper in a tired daze, not paying any +attention to what the grown-ups were saying, until rapid hoofs clicked +on the stones outside and Cousin Ann came in quickly, her black eyes +snapping.</p> + +<p>"Now, for mercy's sake, tell me what happened," she said, adding hotly, +"and if I don't give that Maria Wendell a piece of my mind!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry broke in: "<i>I</i>'M going to tell what happened. <i>I want</i> to do +it. You and Mother just listen, just sit right down and listen." His +voice was shaking with feeling, and as he went on and told of Betsy's +afternoon, her fright, her confusion, her forming the plan of coming +home on the train and of earning the money for the tickets, he made, for +once, no Putney pretense of casual coolness. His old eyes flashed fire +as he talked.</p> + +<p>Betsy, watching him, felt her heart swell and beat fast in incredulous +joy. Why, he was proud of her! She had done something to make the Putney +cousins proud of her!</p> + +<p>When Uncle Henry came to the part where she went on asking for +employment after one and then another refusal, Cousin Ann reached out +her long arms and quickly, almost roughly, gathered Betsy up on her lap, +holding her close as she listened. Betsy had never before sat on Cousin +Ann's lap.</p> + +<p>And when Uncle Henry finished—he had not forgotten a single thing Betsy +had told him—and asked, "What do you think of <i>that</i> for a little girl +ten years old today?" Cousin Ann opened the flood-gates wide and burst +out, "I think I never heard of a child's doing a smarter, grittier +thing ... <i>and I don't care if she does hear me say so</i>!"</p> + +<p>It was a great, a momentous, an historic moment!</p> + +<p>Betsy, enthroned on those strong knees, wondered if any little girl had +ever had such a beautiful birthday.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> +"UNDERSTOOD AUNT FRANCES"</h3> + +<p>About a month, after Betsy's birthday, one October day when the leaves +were all red and yellow, two very momentous events occurred, and, in a +manner of speaking, at the very same time. Betsy had noticed that her +kitten Eleanor (she still thought of her as a kitten, although she was +now a big, grown-up cat) spent very little time around the house. She +came into the kitchen two or three times a day, mewing loudly for milk +and food, but after eating very fast she always disappeared at once. +Betsy missed the purring, contented ball of fur on her lap in the long +evenings as she played checkers, or read aloud, or sewed, or played +guessing games. She felt rather hurt, too, that Eleanor paid her so +little attention, and several times she tried hard to make her stay, +trailing in front of her a spool tied to a string or rolling a worsted +ball across the floor. But Eleanor seemed to have lost all her taste for +the things she had liked so much. Invariably, the moment the door was +opened, she darted out and vanished.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Betsy ran out after her, determined to catch her and bring +her back. When the cat found she was being followed, she bounded along +in great leaps, constantly escaping from Betsy's outstretched hand. They +came thus to the horse-barn, into the open door of which Eleanor whisked +like a little gray shadow, Betsy close behind. The cat flashed up the +steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the hay-loft. Betsy scrambled +rapidly up, too. It was dark up there, compared to the gorgeous-colored +October day outside, and for a moment she could not see Eleanor. Then +she made her out, a dim little shape, picking her way over the hay, and +she heard her talking. Yes, it was real talk, quite, quite different +from the loud, imperious "<i>miauw</i>!" with which Eleanor asked for her milk. +This was the softest, prettiest kind of conversation, all little murmurs +and chirps and sing-songs. Why, Betsy could almost understand it! She +<i>could</i> understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then, +breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-like +cries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward and +disappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over the +hay as fast as she could go.</p> + +<p>It was all silent now—the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped as +suddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purring +so loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud and +happy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she arched +her back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy's +astounded, delighted eyes—no, she wasn't dreaming—two dear little +kittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib on +his chest.</p> + +<p>Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy put +her fingers very softly on the gray one's head and thrilled to feel the +warmth of the little living creature. "Oh, Eleanor!" she asked eagerly. +"<i>Can I</i> pick one up?" She lifted the gray one gently and held it up to +her cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand. +She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into her +palm. "Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!" she said over +and over in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Eleanor did not stop purring, and she looked up with friendly, trusting +eyes as her little mistress made the acquaintance of her children, but +Betsy could feel somehow that Eleanor was anxious about her kitten, was +afraid that, although the little girl meant everything that was kind, +her great, clumsy, awkward human hands weren't clever enough to hold a +baby-cat the proper way. "I don't blame you a bit, Eleanor," said Betsy. +"I should feel just so in your place. There! I won't touch it again!" +She laid the kitten down carefully by its mother. Eleanor at once began +to wash its face very vigorously, knocking it over and over with her +strong tongue. "My!" said Betsy, laughing. "You'd scratch my eyes out, +if <i>I</i> were as rough as that!"</p> + +<p>Eleanor didn't seem to hear. Or rather she seemed to hear something +else. For she stopped short, her head lifted, her ears pricked up, +listening very hard to some distant sound. Then Betsy heard it, too, +somebody coming into the barn below, little, quick, uneven footsteps. It +must be little Molly, tagging along, as she always did. What fun to show +Molly the kittens!</p> + +<p>"Betsy!" called Molly from below.</p> + +<p>"Molly!" called Betsy from above. "Come up here quick! I've got +something up here."</p> + +<p>There was a sound of scrambling, rapid feet on the rough stairs, and +Molly's yellow curls appeared, shining in the dusk. "I've got a ..." she +began, but Betsy did not let her finish.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Molly, quick! <i>quick</i>!" she called, beckoning eagerly, as +though the kittens might evaporate into thin air if Molly didn't get +there at once. Molly forgot what she was going to say, climbed madly up +the steep pile of hay, and in a moment was lying flat on her stomach +beside the little family in a spasm of delight that satisfied even Betsy +and Eleanor, both of them convinced that these were the finest kittens +the world had ever seen.</p> + +<p>"See, there are two," said Betsy. "You can have one for your very own. +And I'll let you choose. Which one do you like best?"</p> + +<p>She was hoping that Molly would not take the little all-gray one, +because she had fallen in love with that the minute she saw it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>this</i> one with the white on his breast," said Molly, without a +moment's hesitation. "It's <i>lots</i> the prettiest! Oh, Betsy! For my very +own?"</p> + +<p>Something white fell out of the folds of her skirt on the hay. "Oh, +yes," she said indifferently. "A letter for you. Miss Ann told me to +bring it out here. She said she saw you streaking it for the barn."</p> + +<p>It was a letter from Aunt Frances. Betsy opened it, one eye on Molly to +see that she did not hug her new darling too tightly, and began to read +it in the ray of dusty sunlight slanting in through a crack in the side +of the barn. She could do this easily, because Aunt Frances always made +her handwriting very large and round and clear, so that a little girl +could read it without half trying.</p> + +<p>And as she read, everything faded away from before her ... the barn, +Molly, the kittens ... she saw nothing but the words on the page.</p> + +<p>When she had read the letter through she got up quickly, oh ever so +quickly! and went away down the stairs. Molly hardly noticed she had +gone, so absorbing and delightful were the kittens.</p> + +<p>Betsy went out of the dusky barn into the rich, October splendor and saw +none of it. She went straight away from the house and the barn, straight +up into the hill-pasture toward her favorite place beside the brook, the +shady pool under the big maple-tree. At first she walked, but after a +while she ran, faster and faster, as though she could not get there soon +enough. Her head was down, and one arm was crooked over her face....</p> + +<p>And do you know, I'm not going to follow her up there, nor let you go. +I'm afraid we would all cry if we saw what Betsy did under the big +maple-tree. And the very reason she ran away so fast was so that she +could be all by herself for a very hard hour, and fight it out, alone.</p> + +<p>So let us go back soberly to the orchard where the Putneys are, and wait +till Betsy comes walking listlessly in, her eyes red and her cheeks +pale. Cousin Ann was up in the top of a tree, a basket hung over her +shoulder half full of striped red Northern Spies; Uncle Henry was on a +ladder against another tree, filling a bag with the beautiful, shining, +yellow-green Pound Sweets, and Aunt Abigail was moving around, picking +up the parti-colored windfalls and putting them into barrels ready to go +to the cider-mill.</p> + +<p>Something about the way Betsy walked, and as she drew closer something +about the expression of her face, and oh! as she began to speak, +something about the tone of her voice, stopped all this cheerful +activity as though a bomb had gone off in their midst.</p> + +<p>"I've had a letter from Aunt Frances," said Betsy, biting her lips, "and +she says she's coming to take me away, back to them, tomorrow."</p> + +<p>There was a big silence; Cousin Ann stood, perfectly motionless up in +her tree, staring down through the leaves at Betsy. Uncle Henry was +turned around on his ladder, one hand on an apple as though it had +frozen there, staring down at Betsy. Aunt Abigail leaned with both fat +hands on her barrel, staring hard at Betsy. Betsy was staring down at +her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes. The yellow, hazy +October sun sank slowly down toward the rim of Hemlock Mountain, and +sent long, golden shafts of light through the branches of the trees upon +this group of people, all so silent, so motionless.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 388px;"> +<a name="staring_down" id="staring_down"></a> +<a href="images/staring_down.jpg"> +<img src="images/staring_down_sml.jpg" width="388" height="550" alt="Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and +winking her eyes." title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and +winking her eyes.</span> +</div> + +<p>Betsy was the first to speak, and I'm very proud of her for what she +said. She said, loyally, "Dear Aunt Frances! She was always so sweet to +me! She always tried so hard to take care of me!"</p> + +<p>For that was what Betsy had found up by the brook under the big red +maple-tree. She had found there a certainty that, whatever else she did, +she must <i>not</i> hurt Aunt Frances's feelings—dear, gentle, sweet Aunt +Frances, whose feelings were so easily hurt and who had given her so +many years of such anxious care. Something up there had told +her—perhaps the quiet blue shadow of Windward Mountain creeping slowly +over the pasture toward her, perhaps the silent glory of the great +red-and-gold tree, perhaps the singing murmur of the little +brook—perhaps all of them together had told her that now had come a +time when she must do more than what Cousin Ann would do—when she must +do what she herself knew was right. And that was to protect Aunt Frances +from hurt.</p> + +<p>When she spoke, out there in the orchard, she broke the spell of +silence. Cousin Ann climbed hastily down from her tree, with her basket +only partly filled. Uncle Henry got stiffly off his ladder, and Aunt +Abigail advanced through the grass. And they all said the same +thing—"Let me see that letter."</p> + +<p>They read it there, looking over each other's shoulders, with grave +faces. Then, still silently, they all turned and went back into the +house, leaving their forgotten bags and barrels and baskets out under +the trees. When they found themselves in the kitchen—"Well, it's +suppertime, anyhow," said Cousin Ann hastily, as if ashamed of losing +her composure, "or almost time. We might as well get it now."</p> + +<p>"I'm a-going out to milk," said Uncle Henry gruffly, although it was not +nearly his usual time. He took up the milk pails and marched out toward +the barn, stepping heavily, his head hanging.</p> + +<p>Shep woke up with a snort and, getting off the couch, gamboled clumsily +up to Betsy, wagging his tail and jumping up on her, ready for a frolic. +That was almost too much for Betsy! To think that after tomorrow she +would never see Shep again—nor Eleanor! Nor the kittens! She choked as +she bent over Shep and put her arms around his neck for a great hug. But +she mustn't cry, she mustn't hurt Aunt Frances's feelings, or show that +she wasn't glad to go back to her. That wouldn't be fair, after all Aunt +Frances had done for her!</p> + +<p>That night she lay awake after she and Molly had gone to bed and Molly +was asleep. They had decided not to tell Molly until the last minute, so +she had dropped off peacefully, as usual. But poor Betsy's eyes were +wide open. She saw a gleam of light under the door. It widened; the door +opened. Aunt Abigail stood there, in her night cap, mountainous in her +long white gown, a candle shining up into her serious old face.</p> + +<p>"You awake, Betsy?" she whispered, seeing the child's dark eyes gleaming +at her over the covers. "I just—I just thought I'd look in to see if +you were all right." She came to the edge of the bed and set the candle +down on the little stand. Betsy reached her arms up longingly and the +old woman stooped over her. Neither of them said a single word during +the long embrace which followed. Then Aunt Abigail straightened up +hastily, took her candle very quickly and softly, and heavily padded out +of the room.</p> + +<p>Betsy turned over and flung one arm over Molly—no Molly, either, after +tomorrow!</p> + +<p>She gulped hard and stared up at the ceiling, dimly white in the +starlight. A gleam of light shone under the door. It widened, and Uncle +Henry stood there, a candle in his hand, peering into the room. "You +awake, Betsy?" he said cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'm awake, Uncle Henry."</p> + +<p>The old man shuffled into the room. "I just got to thinking," he said, +hesitating, "that maybe you'd like to take my watch with you. It's kind +of handy to have a watch on the train. And I'd like real well for you to +have it."</p> + +<p>He laid it down on the stand, his own cherished gold watch, that had +been given him when he was twenty-one.</p> + +<p>Betsy reached out and took his hard, gnarled old fist in a tight grip. +"Oh, Uncle Henry!" she began, and could not go on.</p> + +<p>"We'll miss you, Betsy," he said in an uncertain voice. "It's +been ... it's been real nice to have you here ..."</p> + +<p>And then he too snatched up his candle very quickly and almost ran out +of the room.</p> + +<p>Betsy turned over on her back. "No crying, now!" she told herself +fiercely. "No crying, now!" She clenched her hands together tightly and +set her teeth.</p> + +<p>Something moved in the room. Somebody leaned over her. It was Cousin +Ann, who didn't make a sound, not one, but who took Betsy in her strong +arms and held her close and closer, till Betsy could feel the quick +pulse of the other's heart beating all through her own body. Then she +was gone—as silently as she came.</p> + +<p>But somehow that great embrace had taken away all the burning tightness +from Betsy's eyes and heart. She was very, very tired, and soon after +this she fell sound asleep, snuggled up close to Molly.</p> + +<p>In the morning, nobody spoke of last night at all. Breakfast was +prepared and eaten, and the team hitched up directly afterward. Betsy +and Uncle Henry were to drive to the station together to meet Aunt +Frances's train. Betsy put on her new wine-colored cashmere that Cousin +Ann had made her, with the soft white collar of delicate old embroidery +that Aunt Abigail had given her out of one of the trunks in the attic.</p> + +<p>She and Uncle Henry said very little as they drove to the village, and +even less as they stood waiting together on the platform. Betsy slipped +her hand into his and he held it tight as the train whistled in the +distance and came slowly and laboriously puffing up to the station.</p> + +<p>Just one person got off at the little station, and that was Aunt +Frances, looking ever so dressed up and citified, with a fluffy +ostrich-feather boa and kid gloves and a white veil over her face and a +big blue one floating from her gay-flowered velvet hat. How pretty she +was! And how young—under the veil which hid so kindly all the little +lines in her sweet, thin face. And how excited and fluttery! Betsy had +forgotten how fluttery Aunt Frances was! She clasped Betsy to her, and +then started back crying—she must see to her suitcase—and then she +clasped Betsy to her again and shook hands with Uncle Henry, whose grim +old face looked about as cordial and welcoming as the sourest kind of +sour pickle, and she fluttered back and said she must have left her +umbrella on the train. "Oh, Conductor! Conductor! My umbrella—right in +my seat—a blue one with a crooked-over—oh, here it is in my hand! What +am I thinking of!"</p> + +<p>The conductor evidently thought he'd better get the train away as soon +as possible, for he now shouted, "All aboard!" to nobody at all, and +sprang back on the steps. The train went off, groaning over the steep +grade, and screaming out its usual echoing warning about the next road +crossing.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry took Aunt Frances's suitcase and plodded back to the surrey. +He got into the front seat and Aunt Frances and Betsy in the back; and +they started off.</p> + +<p>And now I want you to listen to every single word that was said on the +back seat, for it was a very, very important conversation, when Betsy's +fate hung on the curl of an eyelash and the flicker of a voice, as fates +often do.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances hugged Betsy again and again and exclaimed about her having +grown so big and tall and fat—she didn't say brown too, although you +could see that she was thinking that, as she looked through her veil at +Betsy's tanned face and down at the contrast between her own pretty, +white fingers and Betsy's leather-colored, muscular little hands. She +exclaimed and exclaimed and kept on exclaiming! Betsy wondered if she +really always had been as fluttery as this. And then, all of a sudden it +came out, the great news, the reason for the extra flutteriness.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances was going to be married!</p> + +<p>Yes! Think of it! Betsy fell back open-mouthed with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Did Betsy think her Aunt Frances a silly old thing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Frances, <i>no</i>!" cried Betsy fervently. "You look just as <i>young</i>, +and pretty! Lots younger than I remembered you!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances flushed with pleasure and went on, "You'll love your old +Aunt Frances just as much, won't you, when she's Mrs. Plimpton!"</p> + +<p>Betsy put her arms around her and gave her a great hug. "I'll always +love you, Aunt Frances!" she said.</p> + +<p>"You'll love Mr. Plimpton, too. He's so big and strong, and he just +loves to take care of people. He says that's why he's marrying me. Don't +you wonder where we are going to live?" she asked, answering her own +question quickly. "We're not going to live anywhere. Isn't that a joke? +Mr. Plimpton's business keeps him always moving around from one place to +another, never more than a month anywhere."</p> + +<p>"What'll Aunt Harriet do?" asked Betsy wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, she's ever and ever so much better," said Aunt Frances happily. +"And her own sister, my Aunt Rachel, has come back from China, where +she's been a missionary for ever so long, and the two old ladies are +going to keep house together out in California, in the dearest little +bungalow, all roses and honeysuckle. But <i>you're</i> going to be with me. +Won't it be jolly fun, darling, to go traveling all about everywhere, +and see new places all the time!"</p> + +<p>Now those are the words Aunt Frances said, but something in her voice +and her face suggested a faint possibility to Betsy that maybe Aunt +Frances didn't really think it would be such awfully jolly fun as her +words said. Her heart gave a big jump up, and she had to hold tight to +the arm of the surrey before she could ask, in a quiet voice, "But, Aunt +Frances, won't I be awfully in your way, traveling around so?"</p> + +<p>Now, Aunt Frances had ears of her own, and though that was what Betsy's +words said, what Aunt Frances heard was a suggestion that possibly Betsy +wasn't as crazy to leave Putney Farm as she had supposed of course she +would be.</p> + +<p>They both stopped talking for a moment and peered at each other through +the thicket of words that held them apart. I told you this was a very +momentous conversation. One sure thing is that the people on the back +seat saw the inside of the surrey as they traveled along, and nothing +else. Red sumac and bronzed beech-trees waved their flags at them in +vain. They kept their eyes fixed on each other intently, each in an +agony of fear lest she hurt the other's feelings.</p> + +<p>After a pause Aunt Frances came to herself with a start, and said, +affectionately putting her arm around Betsy, "Why, you darling, what +does Aunt Frances care about trouble if her own dear baby-girl is +happy?"</p> + +<p>And Betsy said, resolutely, "Oh, you know, Aunt Frances, I'd <i>love</i> to be +with you!" She ventured one more step through the thicket. "But +honestly, Aunt Frances, <i>won't</i> it be a bother...?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances ventured another step to meet her, "But dear little girls +must be <i>somewhere</i> ..."</p> + +<p>And Betsy almost forgot her caution and burst out, "But I could stay +here! I know they would keep me!"</p> + +<p>Even Aunt Frances's two veils could not hide the gleam of relief and +hope that came into her pretty, thin, sweet face. She summoned all her +courage and stepped out into the clearing in the middle of the thicket, +asking right out, boldly, "Why, do you like it here, Betsy? Would you +like to stay?"</p> + +<p>And Betsy—she never could remember afterward if she had been careful +enough not to shout too loudly and joyfully—Betsy cried out, "Oh, I +<i>love</i> it here!" There they stood, face to face, looking at each other +with honest and very happy eyes. Aunt Frances threw her arm around Betsy +and asked again, "Are you <i>sure</i>, dear?" and didn't try to hide her +relief. And neither did Betsy.</p> + +<p>"I could visit you once in a while, when you are somewhere near here," +suggested Betsy, beaming.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>yes</i>, I must have <i>some</i> of the time with my darling!" said Aunt +Frances. And this time there was nothing in their hearts that +contradicted their lips.</p> + +<p>They clung to each other in speechless satisfaction as Uncle Henry +guided the surrey up to the marble stepping-stone. Betsy jumped out +first, and while Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Frances out, she was +dashing up the walk like a crazy thing. She flung open the front door +and catapulted into Aunt Abigail just coming out. It was like flinging +herself into a feather-bed....</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh!" she gasped out. "Aunt Frances is going to be married. And +travel around all the time! And she doesn't <i>really</i> want me at all! Can't +I stay here? Can't I stay here?"</p> + +<p>Cousin Ann was right behind Aunt Abigail, and she heard this. She looked +over their shoulders toward Aunt Frances, who was approaching from +behind, and said, in her usual calm and collected voice: "How do you do, +Frances? Glad to see you, Frances. How well you're looking! I hear you +are in for congratulations. Who's the happy man?"</p> + +<p>Betsy was overcome with admiration for her coolness in being able to +talk so in such an exciting moment. She knew Aunt Abigail couldn't have +done it, for she had sat down in a rocking-chair, and was holding Betsy +on her lap. The little girl could see her wrinkled old hand trembling on +the arm of the chair.</p> + +<p>"I hope that means," continued Cousin Ann, going as usual straight to +the point, "that we can keep Betsy here with us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, would you like to?" asked Aunt Frances, fluttering, as though the +idea had never occurred to her before that minute. "Would Elizabeth Ann +really <i>like</i> to stay?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd <i>like</i> to, all right!" said Betsy, looking confidently up into +Aunt Abigail's face.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail spoke now. She cleared her throat twice before she could +bring out a word. Then she said, "Why, yes, we'd kind of like to keep +her. We've sort of got used to having her around."</p> + +<p>That's what she <i>said</i>, but, as you have noticed before on this exciting +day, what people said didn't matter as much as what they looked; and as +her old lips pronounced these words so quietly the corners of Aunt +Abigail's mouth were twitching, and she was swallowing hard. She said, +impatiently, to Cousin Ann, "Hand me that handkerchief, Ann!" And as she +blew her nose, she said, "Oh, what an old fool I am!"</p> + +<p>Then, all of a sudden, it was as though a great, fresh breeze had blown +through the house. They all drew a long breath and began to talk loudly +and cheerfully about the weather and Aunt Frances's trip and how Aunt +Harriet was and which room Aunt Frances was to have and would she leave +her wraps down in the hall or take them upstairs—and, in the midst of +this, Betsy, her heart ready to burst, dashed out of doors, followed by +Shep. She ran madly toward the barn. She did not know where she was +going. She only knew that she must run and jump and shout, or she would +explode.</p> + +<p>Shep ran and jumped because Betsy did.</p> + +<p>To these two wild creatures, careering through the air like bright-blown +autumn leaves, appeared little Molly in the barn door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm going to stay! I'm going to stay!" screamed Betsy.</p> + +<p>But as Molly had not had any notion of the contrary, she only said, "Of +course, why not?" and went on to something really important, saying, in +a very much capitalized statement, "My kitten can <i>walk</i>! It took <i>three</i> +<i>steps</i> just now."</p> + +<p>After Aunt Frances got her wraps off, Betsy took her for a tour of +inspection. They went all over the house first, with special emphasis +laid on the living-room. "Isn't this the loveliest place?" said Betsy, +fervently, looking about her at the white curtains, the bright flowers, +the southern sunshine, the bookcases, and the bright cooking utensils. +It was all full to the brim to her eyes with happiness, and she forgot +entirely that she had thought it a very poor, common kind of room when +she had first seen it. Nor did she notice that Aunt Frances showed no +enthusiasm over it now.</p> + +<p>She stopped for a few moments to wash some potatoes and put them into +the oven for dinner. Aunt Frances opened her eyes at this. "I always see +to the potatoes and the apples, the cooking of them, I mean," explained +Betsy proudly. "I've just learned to make apple-pie and brown betty."</p> + +<p>Then down into the stone-floored milk-room, where Aunt Abigail was +working over butter, and where Betsy, swelling with pride, showed Aunt +Frances how deftly and smoothly she could manipulate the wooden paddle +and make rolls of butter that weighed within an ounce or two of a pound.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, child! Think of your being able to do such things!" said Aunt +Frances, more and more astonished.</p> + +<p>They went out of doors now, Shep bounding by their side. Betsy was +amazed to see that Aunt Frances drew back, quite nervously, whenever the +big dog frisked near her. Out in the barn Betsy had a disappointment. +Aunt Frances just balked absolutely at those ladder-like stairs—"Oh, I +<i>couldn't</i>! I couldn't, dear. Do <i>you</i> go up there? Is it quite safe?"</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>Aunt Abigail</i> went up there to see the kittens!" cried Betsy, on +the edge of exasperation. But her heart softened at the sight of Aunt +Frances's evident distress of mind at the very idea of climbing into the +loft, and she brought the kittens down for inspection, Eleanor mewing +anxiously at the top of the stairs.</p> + +<p>On the way back to the house they had an adventure, a sort of adventure, +and it brought home to Betsy once for all how much she loved dear, sweet +Aunt Frances, and just what kind of love it was.</p> + +<p>As they crossed the barnyard the calf approached them playfully, leaping +stiff-legged into the air, and making a pretense of butting at them with +its hornless young head.</p> + +<p>Betsy and Shep often played with the calf in this way by the half-hour, +and she thought nothing of it now; hardly noticed it, in fact.</p> + +<p>But Aunt Frances gave a loud, piercing shriek, as though she were being +cut into pieces. "Help! <i>help</i>!" she screamed. "Betsy! Oh, Betsy!"</p> + +<p>She had turned as white as a sheet and could not take a single step +forward. "It's nothing! It's nothing!" said Betsy, rather impatiently. +"He's just playing. We often play with him, Shep and I."</p> + +<p>The calf came a little nearer, with lowered head. "<i>Get</i> away!" said Betsy +indifferently, kicking at him.</p> + +<p>At this hint of masterfulness on Betsy's part, Aunt Frances cried out, +"Oh, yes, Betsy, <i>do</i> make him go away! Do make him go away!"</p> + +<p>It came over Betsy that Aunt Frances was really frightened, yes, really; +and all at once her impatience disappeared, never to come back again. +She felt toward Aunt Frances just as she did toward little Molly, and +she acted accordingly. She stepped in front of Aunt Frances, picked up a +stick, and hit the calf a blow on the neck with it. He moved away, +startled and injured, looking at his playfellow with reproachful eyes. +But Betsy was relentless. Aunt Frances must not be frightened!</p> + +<p>"Here, Shep! Here, Shep!" she called loudly, and when the big dog came +bounding to her she pointed to the calf and said sternly, "Take him into +the barn! Drive him into the barn, sir!"</p> + +<p>Shep asked nothing better than this command, and charged forward, +barking furiously and leaping into the air as though he intended to eat +the calf up alive. The two swept across the barnyard and into the lower +regions of the barn. In a moment Shep reappeared, his tongue hanging +out, his tail wagging, his eyes glistening, very proud of himself, and +mounted guard at the door.</p> + +<p>Aunt Frances hurried along desperately through the gate of the barnyard. +As it fell to behind her she sank down on a rock, breathless, still pale +and agitated. Betsy threw her arms around her in a transport of +affection. She felt that she <i>understood</i> Aunt Frances as nobody else +could, the dear, sweet, gentle, timid aunt! She took the thin, nervous +white fingers in her strong brown hands. "Oh, Aunt Frances, dear, +darling Aunt Frances!" she cried, "how I wish I could <i>always</i> take care +of you."</p> + +<p>The last of the red and gold leaves were slowly drifting to the ground +as Betsy and Uncle Henry drove back from the station after seeing Aunt +Frances off. They were not silent this time, as when they had gone to +meet her. They were talking cheerfully together, laying their plans for +the winter which was so near. "I must begin to bank the house tomorrow," +mused Uncle Henry. "And those apples have got to go to the cider-mill, +right off. Don't you want to ride over on top of them, Betsy, and see +'em made into cider?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my, yes!" said Betsy, "that will be fine! And I must put away +Deborah's summer clothes and get Cousin Ann to help me make some warm +ones, if I'm going to take her to school in cold weather."</p> + +<p>As they drove into the yard, they saw Eleanor coming from the direction +of the barn with something big and heavy in her mouth. She held her head +as high as she could, but even so, her burden dragged on the ground, +bumping softly against the rough places on the path. "Look!" said Betsy. +"Just see that great rat Eleanor has caught!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry squinted his old eyes toward the cat for a moment and +laughed. "We're not the only ones that are getting ready for winter," he +remarked.</p> + +<p>Betsy did not know what he meant and climbed hastily over the wheel and +ran to see. As she approached Eleanor, the cat laid her burden down with +an air of relief and looked trustfully into her little mistress's face. +Why, it was one of the kittens! Eleanor was bringing it to the house. +Oh, of course! they mustn't stay out there in that cold hay-loft now the +cold weather was drawing near. Betsy picked up the little sprawling +thing, trying with weak legs to get around over the rough ground. She +carried it carefully toward the house, Eleanor walking sinuously by her +side and "talking" in little singing, purring <i>miauws</i> to explain her +ideas of kitten-comfort. Betsy felt that she quite understood her. "Yes, +Eleanor, a nice little basket behind the stove with a warm piece of an +old blanket in it. Yes, I'll fix it for you. It'll be lovely to have the +whole family there. And I'll bring the other one in for you."</p> + +<p>But evidently Eleanor did not understand little-girl talk as well as +Betsy understood cat-talk, for a little later, as Betsy turned from the +nest she was making in the corner behind the stove, Eleanor was missing; +and when she ran out toward the barn she met her again, her head +strained painfully back, dragging another fat, heavy kitten, who curled +his pink feet up as high as he could in a vain effort not to have them +knock against the stones. "Now, Eleanor," said Betsy, a little put out, +"you don't trust me enough! I was going to get it all right!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Aunt Abigail, as they came into the kitchen, "now you must +begin to teach them to drink."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" said Betsy, "don't they know how to drink already?"</p> + +<p>"You try them and see," said Aunt Abigail with a mysterious smile.</p> + +<p>So when Uncle Henry brought the pails full of fragrant, warm milk into +the house, Betsy poured out some in a saucer and put the kittens up to +it. She and Molly squatted down on their heels to watch, and before long +they were laughing so that they were rolling on the kitchen floor. At +first the kittens looked every way but at the milk, seeming to see +everything but what was under their noses. Then Graykin (that was +Betsy's) absent-mindedly walked right through the saucer, emerging with +very wet feet and a very much aggrieved and astonished expression. Molly +screamed with laughter to see him shake his little pink toes and finally +sit down seriously to lick them clean. Then White-bib (Molly's) put his +head down to the saucer.</p> + +<p>"There! Mine is smarter than yours!" said Molly. But White-bib went on +putting his head down, down, down, clear into the milk nearly up to his +eyes, although he looked very frightened and miserable. Then he jerked +it up quickly and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, such deliriously +funny little baby sneezes! He pawed and pawed at his little pink nose +with his little pink paw until Eleanor took pity on him and came to wash +him off. In the midst of this process she saw the milk, and left off to +lap it up eagerly; and in a jiffy she had drunk every drop and was +licking the saucer loudly with her raspy tongue. And that was the end of +the kittens' first lesson.</p> + +<p>That evening, as they sat around the lamp, Eleanor came and got up in +Betsy's lap just like old times. Betsy was playing checkers with Uncle +Henry and interrupted the game to welcome the cat back delightedly. But +Eleanor was uneasy, and kept stopping her toilet to prick up her ears +and look restlessly toward the basket, where the kittens lay curled so +closely together that they looked like one soft ball of gray fur. By and +by Eleanor jumped down heavily and went back to the basket. She stayed +there only a moment, standing over the kittens and licking them +convulsively, and then she came back and got up in Betsy's lap again.</p> + +<p>"What ails that cat?" said Cousin Ann, noting this pacing and +restlessness.</p> + +<p>"Maybe she wants Betsy to hold her kittens, too," suggested Aunt +Abigail.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd love to!" said Betsy, spreading out her knees to make her lap +bigger.</p> + +<p>"But I want my own White-bib myself!" said Molly, looking up from the +beads she was stringing.</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe Eleanor would let you settle it that way," said Cousin Ann.</p> + +<p>The little girls ran over to the basket and brought back each her own +kitten. Eleanor watched them anxiously, but as soon as they sat down she +jumped up happily into Betsy's lap and curled down close to little +Graykin. This time she was completely satisfied, and her loud purring +filled the room with a peaceable murmur.</p> + +<p>"There, now you're fixed for the winter," said Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>By and by, after Cousin Ann had popped some corn, old Shep got off the +couch and came to stand by Betsy's knee to get an occasional handful. +Eleanor opened one eye, recognized a friend, and shut it sleepily. But +the little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monster +so near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up his +ridiculous little tail, opened his absurd, little pink mouth in a soft, +baby s-s-s-, and struck savagely at old Shep's good-natured face with a +soft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pride +in the intrepid little morsel. She burst into laughter, but she picked +it up and held it lovingly close to her cheek. What fun it was going to +be to see those kittens grow up!</p> + +<p>Old Shep padded back softly to the couch, his toe-nails clicking on the +floor, hoisted himself heavily up, and went to sleep. The kitten +subsided into a ball again. Eleanor stirred and stretched in her sleep +and laid her head in utter trust on her little mistress's hand. After +that Betsy moved the checkers only with her other hand.</p> + +<p>In the intervals of the game, while Uncle Henry was pondering over his +moves, the little girl looked down at her pets and listened absently to +the keen autumnal wind that swept around the old house, shaking the +shutters and rattling the windows. A stick of wood in the stove burned +in two and fell together with a soft, whispering sound. The lamp cast a +steady radiance on Uncle Henry bent seriously over the checker-board, on +Molly's blooming, round cheeks and bright hair, on Aunt Abigail's rosy, +cheerful, wrinkled old face, and on Cousin Ann's quiet, clear, dark +eyes....</p> + +<p>That room was full to the brim of something beautiful, and Betsy knew +what it was. Its name was Happiness.</p> + +<p>THE END.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDERSTOOD BETSY *** + +***** This file should be named 5347-h.htm or 5347-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5347/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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