CHAPTER XI
"UNDERSTOOD AUNT FRANCES"
About a month, after Betsy's birthday, one October day when the leaveswere all red and yellow, two very momentous events occurred, and, in amanner of speaking, at the very same time. Betsy had noticed that herkitten Eleanor (she still thought of her as a kitten, although she wasnow a big, grown-up cat) spent very little time around the house. Shecame into the kitchen two or three times a day, mewing loudly for milkand food, but after eating very fast she always disappeared at once.Betsy missed the purring, contented ball of fur on her lap in the longevenings as she played checkers, or read aloud, or sewed, or playedguessing games. She felt rather hurt, too, that Eleanor paid her solittle 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 worstedball across the floor. But Eleanor seemed to have lost all her taste forthe things she had liked so much. Invariably, the moment the door wasopened, she darted out and vanished.
One afternoon Betsy ran out after her, determined to catch her and bringher back. When the cat found she was being followed, she bounded alongin great leaps, constantly escaping from Betsy's outstretched hand. Theycame thus to the horse-barn, into the open door of which Eleanor whiskedlike a little gray shadow, Betsy close behind. The cat flashed up thesteep, ladder-like stairs that led to the hay-loft. Betsy scrambledrapidly up, too. It was dark up there, compared to the gorgeous-coloredOctober day outside, and for a moment she could not see Eleanor. Thenshe made her out, a dim little shape, picking her way over the hay, andshe heard her talking. Yes, it was real talk, quite, quite differentfrom the loud, imperious "MIAUW!" with which Eleanor asked for her milk.This was the softest, prettiest kind of conversation, all little murmursand chirps and sing-songs. Why, Betsy could almost understand it! SheCOULD understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then,breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-likecries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward anddisappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over thehay as fast as she could go.
It was all silent now--the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped assuddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purringso loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud andhappy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she archedher back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy'sastounded, delighted eyes--no, she wasn't dreaming--two dear littlekittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib onhis chest.
Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy puther fingers very softly on the gray one's head and thrilled to feel thewarmth 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 toher cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand.She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into herpalm. "Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!" she said overand over in a whisper.
Eleanor did not stop purring, and she looked up with friendly, trustingeyes as her little mistress made the acquaintance of her children, butBetsy could feel somehow that Eleanor was anxious about her kitten, wasafraid that, although the little girl meant everything that was kind,her great, clumsy, awkward human hands weren't clever enough to hold ababy-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 beganto wash its face very vigorously, knocking it over and over with herstrong 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 somethingelse. 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. Itmust be little Molly, tagging along, as she always did. What fun to showMolly the kittens!
"Betsy!" called Molly from below.
"Molly!" called Betsy from above. "Come up here quick! I've gotsomething up here."
There was a sound of scrambling, rapid feet on the rough stairs, andMolly's yellow curls appeared, shining in the dusk. "I've got a ..." shebegan, but Betsy did not let her finish.
"Come here, Molly, quick! QUICK!" she called, beckoning eagerly, asthough the kittens might evaporate into thin air if Molly didn't getthere at once. Molly forgot what she was going to say, climbed madly upthe steep pile of hay, and in a moment was lying flat on her stomachbeside the little family in a spasm of delight that satisfied even Betsyand Eleanor, both of them convinced that these were the finest kittensthe 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 amoment's hesitation. "It's LOTS the prettiest! Oh, Betsy! For my veryown?"
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 tobring 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 tosee that she did not hug her new darling too tightly, and began to readit in the ray of dusty sunlight slanting in through a crack in the sideof the barn. She could do this easily, because Aunt Frances always madeher handwriting very large and round and clear, so that a little girlcould 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 soquickly! and went away down the stairs. Molly hardly noticed she hadgone, so absorbing and delightful were the kittens.
Betsy went out of the dusky barn into the rich, October splendor and sawnone of it. She went straight away from the house and the barn, straightup into the hill-pasture toward her favorite place beside the brook, theshady pool under the big maple-tree. At first she walked, but after awhile she ran, faster and faster, as though she could not get there soonenough. 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 bigmaple-tree. And the very reason she ran away so fast was so that shecould 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 waittill Betsy comes walking listlessly in, her eyes red and her cheekspale. Cousin Ann was up in the top of a tree, a basket hung over hershoulder half full of striped red Northern Spies; Uncle Henry was on aladder against another tree, filling a bag with the beautiful, shining,yellow-green Pound Sweets, and Aunt Abigail was moving around, pickingup the parti-colored windfalls and putting them into barrels ready to goto the cider-mill.
Something about the way Betsy walked, and as she drew closer somethingabout the expression of her face, and oh! as she began to speak,something about the tone of her voice, stopped all this cheerfulactivity as though a bomb had gone off in their midst.
"I've had a letter from Aunt Frances," said Betsy, biting her lips, "andshe says she's coming to take me away, back to them, tomorrow."
There was a big silence; Cousin Ann stood, perfectly motionless up inher tree, staring down through the leaves at Betsy. Uncle Henry wasturned around on his ladder, one hand on an apple as though it hadfrozen there, staring down at Betsy. Aunt Abigail leaned with both fathands on her barrel, staring hard at Betsy. Betsy was staring down ather shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes. The yellow, hazyOctober sun sank slowly down toward the rim of Hemlock Mountain, andsent long, golden shafts of ligh
t through the branches of the trees uponthis group of people, all so silent, so motionless.
Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips andwinking her eyes.]
Betsy was the first to speak, and I'm very proud of her for what shesaid. She said, loyally, "Dear Aunt Frances! She was always so sweet tome! She always tried so hard to take care of me!"
For that was what Betsy had found up by the brook under the big redmaple-tree. She had found there a certainty that, whatever else she did,she must NOT hurt Aunt Frances's feelings--dear, gentle, sweet AuntFrances, whose feelings were so easily hurt and who had given her somany years of such anxious care. Something up there had toldher--perhaps the quiet blue shadow of Windward Mountain creeping slowlyover the pasture toward her, perhaps the silent glory of the greatred-and-gold tree, perhaps the singing murmur of the littlebrook--perhaps all of them together had told her that now had come atime when she must do more than what Cousin Ann would do--when she mustdo what she herself knew was right. And that was to protect Aunt Francesfrom hurt.
When she spoke, out there in the orchard, she broke the spell ofsilence. Cousin Ann climbed hastily down from her tree, with her basketonly partly filled. Uncle Henry got stiffly off his ladder, and AuntAbigail advanced through the grass. And they all said the samething--"Let me see that letter."
They read it there, looking over each other's shoulders, with gravefaces. Then, still silently, they all turned and went back into thehouse, leaving their forgotten bags and barrels and baskets out underthe trees. When they found themselves in the kitchen--"Well, it'ssuppertime, anyhow," said Cousin Ann hastily, as if ashamed of losingher 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 notnearly his usual time. He took up the milk pails and marched out towardthe barn, stepping heavily, his head hanging.
Shep woke up with a snort and, getting off the couch, gamboled clumsilyup 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 shewould never see Shep again--nor Eleanor! Nor the kittens! She choked asshe bent over Shep and put her arms around his neck for a great hug. Butshe mustn't cry, she mustn't hurt Aunt Frances's feelings, or show thatshe wasn't glad to go back to her. That wouldn't be fair, after all AuntFrances had done for her!
That night she lay awake after she and Molly had gone to bed and Mollywas asleep. They had decided not to tell Molly until the last minute, soshe had dropped off peacefully, as usual. But poor Betsy's eyes werewide open. She saw a gleam of light under the door. It widened; the dooropened. Aunt Abigail stood there, in her night cap, mountainous in herlong white gown, a candle shining up into her serious old face.
"You awake, Betsy?" she whispered, seeing the child's dark eyes gleamingat her over the covers. "I just--I just thought I'd look in to see ifyou were all right." She came to the edge of the bed and set the candledown on the little stand. Betsy reached her arms up longingly and theold woman stooped over her. Neither of them said a single word duringthe long embrace which followed. Then Aunt Abigail straightened uphastily, took her candle very quickly and softly, and heavily padded outof the room.
Betsy turned over and flung one arm over Molly--no Molly, either, aftertomorrow!
She gulped hard and stared up at the ceiling, dimly white in thestarlight. A gleam of light shone under the door. It widened, and UncleHenry stood there, a candle in his hand, peering into the room. "Youawake, 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 kindof handy to have a watch on the train. And I'd like real well for you tohave it."
He laid it down on the stand, his own cherished gold watch, that hadbeen 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'sbeen ... it's been real nice to have you here ..."
And then he too snatched up his candle very quickly and almost ran outof the room.
Betsy turned over on her back. "No crying, now!" she told herselffiercely. "No crying, now!" She clenched her hands together tightly andset her teeth.
Something moved in the room. Somebody leaned over her. It was CousinAnn, who didn't make a sound, not one, but who took Betsy in her strongarms and held her close and closer, till Betsy could feel the quickpulse of the other's heart beating all through her own body. Then shewas gone--as silently as she came.
But somehow that great embrace had taken away all the burning tightnessfrom Betsy's eyes and heart. She was very, very tired, and soon afterthis she fell sound asleep, snuggled up close to Molly.
In the morning, nobody spoke of last night at all. Breakfast wasprepared and eaten, and the team hitched up directly afterward. Betsyand Uncle Henry were to drive to the station together to meet AuntFrances's train. Betsy put on her new wine-colored cashmere that CousinAnn had made her, with the soft white collar of delicate old embroiderythat 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, andeven less as they stood waiting together on the platform. Betsy slippedher hand into his and he held it tight as the train whistled in thedistance and came slowly and laboriously puffing up to the station.
Just one person got off at the little station, and that was AuntFrances, looking ever so dressed up and citified, with a fluffyostrich-feather boa and kid gloves and a white veil over her face and abig blue one floating from her gay-flowered velvet hat. How pretty shewas! And how young--under the veil which hid so kindly all the littlelines in her sweet, thin face. And how excited and fluttery! Betsy hadforgotten how fluttery Aunt Frances was! She clasped Betsy to her, andthen started back crying--she must see to her suitcase--and then sheclasped Betsy to her again and shook hands with Uncle Henry, whose grimold face looked about as cordial and welcoming as the sourest kind ofsour pickle, and she fluttered back and said she must have left herumbrella on the train. "Oh, Conductor! Conductor! My umbrella--right inmy seat--a blue one with a crooked-over--oh, here it is in my hand! Whatam I thinking of!"
The conductor evidently thought he'd better get the train away as soonas possible, for he now shouted, "All aboard!" to nobody at all, andsprang back on the steps. The train went off, groaning over the steepgrade, and screaming out its usual echoing warning about the next roadcrossing.
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; andthey started off.
And now I want you to listen to every single word that was said on theback seat, for it was a very, very important conversation, when Betsy'sfate hung on the curl of an eyelash and the flicker of a voice, as fatesoften do.
Aunt Frances hugged Betsy again and again and exclaimed about her havinggrown so big and tall and fat--she didn't say brown too, although youcould see that she was thinking that, as she looked through her veil atBetsy's tanned face and down at the contrast between her own pretty,white fingers and Betsy's leather-colored, muscular little hands. Sheexclaimed and exclaimed and kept on exclaiming! Betsy wondered if shereally always had been as fluttery as this. And then, all of a sudden itcame 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 oldAunt Frances just as much, won't you, when she's Mrs. Plimpton!"
Betsy put her arms around her and gave her a g
reat hug. "I'll alwayslove you, Aunt Frances!" she said.
"You'll love Mr. Plimpton, too. He's so big and strong, and he justloves to take care of people. He says that's why he's marrying me. Don'tyou wonder where we are going to live?" she asked, answering her ownquestion 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 toanother, 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, whereshe's been a missionary for ever so long, and the two old ladies aregoing to keep house together out in California, in the dearest littlebungalow, 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 voiceand her face suggested a faint possibility to Betsy that maybe AuntFrances didn't really think it would be such awfully jolly fun as herwords said. Her heart gave a big jump up, and she had to hold tight tothe arm of the surrey before she could ask, in a quiet voice, "But, AuntFrances, 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'swords said, what Aunt Frances heard was a suggestion that possibly Betsywasn't as crazy to leave Putney Farm as she had supposed of course shewould be.
They both stopped talking for a moment and peered at each other throughthe thicket of words that held them apart. I told you this was a verymomentous conversation. One sure thing is that the people on the backseat saw the inside of the surrey as they traveled along, and nothingelse. Red sumac and bronzed beech-trees waved their flags at them invain. They kept their eyes fixed on each other intently, each in anagony 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, whatdoes Aunt Frances care about trouble if her own dear baby-girl ishappy?"
And Betsy said, resolutely, "Oh, you know, Aunt Frances, I'd LOVE to bewith you!" She ventured one more step through the thicket. "Buthonestly, Aunt Frances, WON'T it be a bother...?"
Aunt Frances ventured another step to meet her, "But dear little girlsmust be SOMEWHERE ..."
And Betsy almost forgot her caution and burst out, "But I could stayhere! I know they would keep me!"
Even Aunt Frances's two veils could not hide the gleam of relief andhope that came into her pretty, thin, sweet face. She summoned all hercourage and stepped out into the clearing in the middle of the thicket,asking right out, boldly, "Why, do you like it here, Betsy? Would youlike to stay?"
And Betsy--she never could remember afterward if she had been carefulenough not to shout too loudly and joyfully--Betsy cried out, "Oh, ILOVE it here!" There they stood, face to face, looking at each otherwith honest and very happy eyes. Aunt Frances threw her arm around Betsyand asked again, "Are you SURE, dear?" and didn't try to hide herrelief. 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 AuntFrances. And this time there was nothing in their hearts thatcontradicted their lips.
They clung to each other in speechless satisfaction as Uncle Henryguided the surrey up to the marble stepping-stone. Betsy jumped outfirst, and while Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Frances out, she wasdashing up the walk like a crazy thing. She flung open the front doorand catapulted into Aunt Abigail just coming out. It was like flingingherself into a feather-bed....
"Oh! Oh!" she gasped out. "Aunt Frances is going to be married. Andtravel around all the time! And she doesn't REALLY want me at all! Can'tI stay here? Can't I stay here?"
Cousin Ann was right behind Aunt Abigail, and she heard this. She lookedover their shoulders toward Aunt Frances, who was approaching frombehind, 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 youare in for congratulations. Who's the happy man?"
Betsy was overcome with admiration for her coolness in being able totalk so in such an exciting moment. She knew Aunt Abigail couldn't havedone it, for she had sat down in a rocking-chair, and was holding Betsyon her lap. The little girl could see her wrinkled old hand trembling onthe arm of the chair.
"I hope that means," continued Cousin Ann, going as usual straight tothe point, "that we can keep Betsy here with us."
"Oh, would you like to?" asked Aunt Frances, fluttering, as though theidea had never occurred to her before that minute. "Would Elizabeth Annreally LIKE to stay?"
"Oh, I'd LIKE to, all right!" said Betsy, looking confidently up intoAunt Abigail's face.
Aunt Abigail spoke now. She cleared her throat twice before she couldbring out a word. Then she said, "Why, yes, we'd kind of like to keepher. We've sort of got used to having her around."
That's what she SAID, but, as you have noticed before on this excitingday, what people said didn't matter as much as what they looked; and asher old lips pronounced these words so quietly the corners of AuntAbigail's mouth were twitching, and she was swallowing hard. She said,impatiently, to Cousin Ann, "Hand me that handkerchief, Ann!" And as sheblew 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 blownthrough the house. They all drew a long breath and began to talk loudlyand cheerfully about the weather and Aunt Frances's trip and how AuntHarriet was and which room Aunt Frances was to have and would she leaveher wraps down in the hall or take them upstairs--and, in the midst ofthis, Betsy, her heart ready to burst, dashed out of doors, followed byShep. She ran madly toward the barn. She did not know where she wasgoing. She only knew that she must run and jump and shout, or she wouldexplode.
Shep ran and jumped because Betsy did.
To these two wild creatures, careering through the air like bright-blownautumn 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, "Ofcourse, why not?" and went on to something really important, saying, ina very much capitalized statement, "My kitten can WALK! It took THREESTEPS just now."
After Aunt Frances got her wraps off, Betsy took her for a tour ofinspection. They went all over the house first, with special emphasislaid 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 forgotentirely that she had thought it a very poor, common kind of room whenshe had first seen it. Nor did she notice that Aunt Frances showed noenthusiasm over it now.
She stopped for a few moments to wash some potatoes and put them intothe oven for dinner. Aunt Frances opened her eyes at this. "I always seeto the potatoes and the apples, the cooking of them, I mean," explainedBetsy proudly. "I've just learned to make apple-pie and brown betty."
Then down into the stone-floored milk-room, where Aunt Abigail wasworking over butter, and where Betsy, swelling with pride, showed AuntFrances how deftly and smoothly she could manipulate the wooden paddleand 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 AuntFrances, more and more astonished.
They went out of doors now, Shep bounding by their side. Betsy wasamazed to see that Aunt Frances drew back, quite nervously, whenever thebig dog frisked near her. Out in the barn Betsy had a disappointment.Aunt Frances just balked absolutely at those ladder-like stairs--"Oh, ICOULDN'T! I couldn't, dear. Do YOU go up there? Is it quite safe?"
"Why, AUNT ABIGAIL went up there to see the kittens!" crie
d Betsy, onthe edge of exasperation. But her heart softened at the sight of AuntFrances's evident distress of mind at the very idea of climbing into theloft, and she brought the kittens down for inspection, Eleanor mewinganxiously 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, sweetAunt Frances, and just what kind of love it was.
As they crossed the barnyard the calf approached them playfully, leapingstiff-legged into the air, and making a pretense of butting at them withits 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 beingcut into pieces. "Help! HELP!" she screamed. "Betsy! Oh, Betsy!"
She had turned as white as a sheet and could not take a single stepforward. "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 Betsyindifferently, 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, andshe acted accordingly. She stepped in front of Aunt Frances, picked up astick, 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 camebounding to her she pointed to the calf and said sternly, "Take him intothe 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 eatthe calf up alive. The two swept across the barnyard and into the lowerregions of the barn. In a moment Shep reappeared, his tongue hangingout, his tail wagging, his eyes glistening, very proud of himself, andmounted 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 paleand agitated. Betsy threw her arms around her in a transport ofaffection. She felt that she UNDERSTOOD Aunt Frances as nobody elsecould, the dear, sweet, gentle, timid aunt! She took the thin, nervouswhite fingers in her strong brown hands. "Oh, Aunt Frances, dear,darling Aunt Frances!" she cried, "how I wish I could ALWAYS take careof you."
The last of the red and gold leaves were slowly drifting to the groundas Betsy and Uncle Henry drove back from the station after seeing AuntFrances off. They were not silent this time, as when they had gone tomeet her. They were talking cheerfully together, laying their plans forthe 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 awayDeborah's summer clothes and get Cousin Ann to help me make some warmones, if I'm going to take her to school in cold weather."
As they drove into the yard, they saw Eleanor coming from the directionof the barn with something big and heavy in her mouth. She held her headas 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 andlaughed. "We're not the only ones that are getting ready for winter," heremarked.
Betsy did not know what he meant and climbed hastily over the wheel andran to see. As she approached Eleanor, the cat laid her burden down withan 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 thecold weather was drawing near. Betsy picked up the little sprawlingthing, trying with weak legs to get around over the rough ground. Shecarried it carefully toward the house, Eleanor walking sinuously by herside and "talking" in little singing, purring MIAUWS to explain herideas of kitten-comfort. Betsy felt that she quite understood her. "Yes,Eleanor, a nice little basket behind the stove with a warm piece of anold blanket in it. Yes, I'll fix it for you. It'll be lovely to have thewhole family there. And I'll bring the other one in for you."
But evidently Eleanor did not understand little-girl talk as well asBetsy understood cat-talk, for a little later, as Betsy turned from thenest 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 headstrained painfully back, dragging another fat, heavy kitten, who curledhis pink feet up as high as he could in a vain effort not to have themknock 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 mustbegin 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 intothe house, Betsy poured out some in a saucer and put the kittens up toit. She and Molly squatted down on their heels to watch, and before longthey were laughing so that they were rolling on the kitchen floor. Atfirst the kittens looked every way but at the milk, seeming to seeeverything but what was under their noses. Then Graykin (that wasBetsy's) absent-mindedly walked right through the saucer, emerging withvery wet feet and a very much aggrieved and astonished expression. Mollyscreamed with laughter to see him shake his little pink toes and finallysit down seriously to lick them clean. Then White-bib (Molly's) put hishead down to the saucer.
"There! Mine is smarter than yours!" said Molly. But White-bib went onputting his head down, down, down, clear into the milk nearly up to hiseyes, although he looked very frightened and miserable. Then he jerkedit up quickly and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, such deliriouslyfunny little baby sneezes! He pawed and pawed at his little pink nosewith his little pink paw until Eleanor took pity on him and came to washhim off. In the midst of this process she saw the milk, and left off tolap it up eagerly; and in a jiffy she had drunk every drop and waslicking the saucer loudly with her raspy tongue. And that was the end ofthe kittens' first lesson.
That evening, as they sat around the lamp, Eleanor came and got up inBetsy's lap just like old times. Betsy was playing checkers with UncleHenry and interrupted the game to welcome the cat back delightedly. ButEleanor was uneasy, and kept stopping her toilet to prick up her earsand look restlessly toward the basket, where the kittens lay curled soclosely together that they looked like one soft ball of gray fur. By andby Eleanor jumped down heavily and went back to the basket. She stayedthere only a moment, standing over the kittens and licking themconvulsively, and then she came back and got up in Betsy's lap again.
"What ails that cat?" said Cousin Ann, noting this pacing andrestlessness.
"Maybe she wants Betsy to hold her kittens, too," suggested AuntAbigail.
"Oh, I'd love to!" said Betsy, spreading out her knees to make her lapbigger.
"But I want my own White-bib myself!" said Molly, looking up from thebeads 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 ownkitten. Eleanor watched them anxiously, but as soon as they sat down shejumped up happily into Betsy's lap and curled down close to littleGraykin. This time she was completely satisfied, and her loud purringfilled 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 thecouch and came to stand by Betsy's knee to get an occasional handful.Eleanor opened one eye, recognized a friend, and shut it sleepily. Butthe little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monsterso near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up hisridiculous 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 asoft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pridein the intrepid little morsel. She burst into laughter, but she pickedit up and held it lovingly close to her cheek. What fun it was going tobe to see those kittens grow up!
Old Shep padded back softly to the couch, his toe-nails clicking on thefloor, hoisted himself heavily up, and went to sleep. The kittensubsided into a ball again. Eleanor stirred and stretched in her sleepand laid her head in utter trust on her little mistress's hand. Afterthat Betsy moved the checkers only with her other hand.
In the intervals of the game, while Uncle Henry was pondering over hismoves, the little girl looked down at her pets and listened absently tothe keen autumnal wind that swept around the old house, shaking theshutters and rattling the windows. A stick of wood in the stove burnedin two and fell together with a soft, whispering sound. The lamp cast asteady radiance on Uncle Henry bent seriously over the checker-board, onMolly's blooming, round cheeks and bright hair, on Aunt Abigail's rosy,cheerful, wrinkled old face, and on Cousin Ann's quiet, clear, darkeyes....
That room was full to the brim of something beautiful, and Betsy knewwhat it was. Its name was Happiness.
THE END.
Understood Betsy Page 11