Understood Betsy

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 h

her! Even in the most familiar air she could only half breathe without Aunt Fran

own 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 tha

ut the train moved more and more slowly. Elizabeth Ann could feel under her feet how the floor of the car wa

. We go down after that to Rutland." He turned to Elizabeth Ann-"Say, little girl, didn't yo

ame 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 the

d went back to the train, which went away shrieking for a nearby cr

lders. "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 t

reamed 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 an

, 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 figge

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 hor

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!

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

ike a clap, that she needn't know which was right or left at all. If she just pulled the way

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 expla

ended triumphantly; "it's which way you want to go!" Uncle Henry looked at her attentively as she talked, eyeing her sidewis

teachers always explained matters at length. But it had a weighty, satisfying ring to it. The li

r feet had grown to the road. Elizabeth Ann looked up at the old man for instructions. But he was deep in his fi

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 be

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

ne 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 b

rival of Elizabeth

two and swung her up on the porch. "You take her

r. "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

rks vividly before her. "Oh yes, oh yes!" she said. "She always talked about you.

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

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

rable, 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 ho

-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

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 t

t 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 fre

iddle full of pancakes and did not hear. On the train Elizabeth Ann had resolved not to call these hateful relatives by the sa

oh, the kitten's? Goodness, child, I stopped racking my brain

e she had always thought she would call a kitten by, if she

. "There's the cat's saucer under the si

poured some milk into the saucer, and

and her lips twitched, but a moment later her face was immovab

p the milk, and she was surprised, when she stood up, to see that Cous

nk we've done some lively stepping around, Betsy

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 ma

tion to her beyond filling her plate as fast as she emptied it. In the middle of the meal Eleanor came, jumped into her lap,

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

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, ful

e to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you're going to sleep in here for a w

ueer things they said here. She wa

d, "No! There! I forgot to!" Cousin Ann went away; and that was the last of

nd 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

keep the candle lighted for a while and read. "And anyhow," she s

e 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, loo

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 tha

think it's going to be real nice, hav

u know," she said, in a conversational tone, "do you know, I think i

abeth Ann burst suddenly into hot tears-yes, I know I said I would not tell you any more about her crying; but the

, 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 hea

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

s enveloped in that delicious warmth. The kitten curled up under the little girl's chin. Be

th ... and when she opened her eyes