Part 11 (2/2)

”Oh, doctor! may I walk along with you a little way?” she faltered.

”Everybody asks me to tell”--

”Yes, yes, I know all about it,” said the doctor; and he turned and took Betty's hand as if she were a child, and they walked away together. It was well known in Tideshead that Dr. Prince did not like to be questioned about his patients.

”I was wondering whether I ought to go to see Nelly,” said Betty, as they came near the house. ”I haven't seen her since I came home with her yesterday. I--didn't quite dare to go in as I came by.”

”Wait until to-morrow, perhaps,” said the doctor. ”The poor man will be gone then, and you will be a greater comfort. Go over through the garden. You can climb the fences, I dare say,” and he looked at Betty with a queer little smile. Perhaps he had seen her sometimes crossing the fields with Mary Beck.

”Do you mean that he is going to die to-day?” asked Betty, with great awe. ”Ought I to go then?”

”Love may go where common kindness is shut out,” said Dr. Prince. ”You have done a great deal to make those poor children happy, this summer.

They had been treated in a very narrow-minded way. It was not like Tideshead, I must say,” he added, ”but people are shy sometimes, and Mrs. Foster herself could not bear to see the pity in her neighbors'

faces. It will be easier for her now.”

”I keep thinking, what if it were my own papa?” said Betty softly. ”He couldn't be so wicked, but he might be ill, and I not there.”

”Dear me, no!” said the doctor heartily, and giving Betty's hand a tight grasp and a little swing to and fro. ”I suppose he's having a capital good time up among his glaciers. I wish that I were with him for a month's holiday;” and at this Betty was quite cheerful again.

Now they stopped at Betty's own gate. ”You must take your Aunt Mary in hand a little, before you go away. There's nothing serious the matter now, only lack of exercise and thinking too much about herself.”

”She did come to my tea-party in the garden,” responded Betty, with a faint smile, ”and I think sometimes she almost gets enough courage to go to walk. She didn't sleep at all last night, Serena said this morning.”

”You see, she doesn't need sleep,” explained Dr. Prince, quite professionally. ”We are all made to run about the world and to work.

Your aunt is always making blood and muscle with such a good appet.i.te, and then she never uses them, and nature is clever at revenges. Let her hunt the fields, as you do, and she would sleep like a top. I call it a disease of _too-wellness_, and I only know how to doctor sick people.

Now there's a lesson for you to reflect upon,” and the busy doctor went hurrying back to where he had left his horse standing, when he first caught sight of Betty's white and anxious face.

As she entered the house Aunt Barbara was just coming out. ”I am going to see poor Mrs. Foster, my dear, or to ask for her at the door,” she said, and Serena and Letty and Jonathan all came forward to ask whether Betty knew any later news. Seth Pond had been loitering up the street most of the morning, with feelings of great excitement, but he presently came back with instructions from Aunt Barbara to weed the long box-borders behind the house, which he somewhat unwillingly obeyed.

A few days later the excitement was at an end, the sad funeral was over, and on Sunday the Fosters were at church in their appealing black clothes. Everybody had been as kind as they knew how to be, but there were no faces so welcome to the sad family as our little Betty's and the doctor's.

”It comes of simply following her instinct to be kind and do right,”

said the doctor to Aunt Barbara, next day. ”The child doesn't think twice about it, as most of us do. We Tideshead people are terribly afraid of one another, and have to go through just so much before we can take the next step. There's no way to get right things done but to simply _do_ them. But it isn't so much what your Betty does as what she is.”

”She has grown into my old heart,” said Aunt Barbara. ”I cannot bear to think of her going away and taking the suns.h.i.+ne with her!--and yet she has her faults, of course,” added the sensible old lady.

”Oh, by the way!” said Dr. Prince, turning back. ”My wife told me to ask you to come over to tea to-night and bring the little girl; I nearly forgot to give the message.”

”I shall be very happy to come,” answered Miss Leicester, and the doctor nodded and went his busy way. Betty was very fond of going to drive with him, and he looked about the neighborhood as he drove along, hoping to catch sight of her; but Betty was at that moment deeply engaged in helping Letty sh.e.l.l some peas for dinner, at the other side of the house, in the garden doorway of the kitchen. She had spent an hour before that with Mrs. Beck, while they tried together with more or less success to trim a new sailor hat for Mary Beck like one of Betty's own.

Mrs. Beck was as friendly as possible in these days, but whenever the Fosters were mentioned her face grew dark. She did not like Mrs. Foster; she did not exactly blame her for all that had happened, but she did not pity her either, or feel a true compa.s.sion for such a troubled neighbor.

Betty never could understand it. At any rate, she had been saved by her unsettled life from taking a great interest in her own or other people's dislikes.

That evening, just as the tea-party was in full progress, somebody came for Dr. Prince; and when he returned from his study he announced that he must go at once down the river road to see one of his patients who was worse. Perhaps he saw an eager look in Betty's eyes, for he asked gravely if Miss Leicester had a niece to lend, it being a moonlight evening and not too long a drive. Aunt Barbara made no objection, and our friend went skipping off to the doctor's stable in high glee.

”Oh, that's nice!” she exclaimed. ”I'm so glad that you're going to take Pepper; she's such a dear little horse.”

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