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, “Goodbye! Goodbye! 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.
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 butterball. 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
