Part 14 (1/2)

”Here's your opener,” said the man, ”if that's what you're looking for.

Here, you get the gla.s.ses 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 gos.h.!.+ 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.