Part 24 (1/2)

”About three months.”

”Look here! I dunno what you'll say, but I think Mis' Green thought real favorable of it. Do you know how cheap you can go down to Boston an' back now?”

Amanda looked up. ”No. Why?” said she.

Mrs. Babc.o.c.k stopped fanning and leaned forward. ”Amanda Pratt, you can go down to Boston an' back, an' be gone a week, for--three dollars an' sixty cents.”

Amanda stared back at her in a startled way.

”Let's you an' me an' Mis' Green go down an' see Mis' Field an'

Lois,” said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k, in a tragic voice.

Amanda turned pale. ”They don't live in Boston,” she said, with a bewildered air.

”We can go down to Boston on the early train,” replied Mrs. Babc.o.c.k, importantly. ”Then we can have all the afternoon to go round Boston an' see the sights, an' then, toward night, we can go out to Mis'

Field's. Land, here's Mis' Green now! She said she'd come over as soon as Abby got home from school. I'm jest tellin' her about it, Mis' Green.”

Mrs. Green stood in the doorway, smiling half-shamefacedly. ”I s'pose you think it's a dreadful silly plan, Mandy,” said she deprecatingly.

Amanda got up and pushed the rocking-chair in which she had been sitting toward the new-comer.

”Set down, do,” said she. ”I dunno, Mis' Green. I ain't had time to think it over, it's come so sudden.” Amanda's face was collected, but her voice was full of agitation.

”Well,” said Mrs. Green, ”I ain't known which end my head is on since Mis' Babc.o.c.k come in an' spoke of it. First I thought I couldn't go nohow, an' I dunno as I can now. Still, it does seem dreadful cheap to go down to Boston an' back, an' I ain't been down more'n four times in the last twenty years. I ain't been out gaddin' much, an'

that's a fact.”

”The longer you set down in one corner, the longer you can,” remarked Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. ”I believe in goin' while you've got a chance, for my part.”

”I ain't ever been to Boston,” said Amanda, and her face had the wishful, far-away look that her grandfather's might have had when he thought of the sea.

”It does seem as if you'd ought to go once,” said Mrs. Green.

”I say, let's start up an' go!” cried Mrs. Babc.o.c.k, in an intense voice.

The three women looked at each other.

”Abby could keep house for father a few days,” said Mrs. Green, as if to some carping judge; ”an' it ain't goin' to cost much, an' I know father'd say go.”

”Well, I guess I can cook up enough victuals to last Adoniram and the boys whilst I'm gone,” said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k defiantly; ”I guess they can get along. Adoniram can make rye puddin', an' they can fill up on rye puddin' an' mola.s.ses. I'm a-goin'.”

”I dunno,” said Amanda, trembling. ”I'm dreadful afraid I hadn't ought to.”

”Well, I should think you could go, if Mis' Green an' I could,” said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. ”Here you ain't got n.o.body but jest yourself, an' ain't got to leave a thing cooked up nor nothin'.”

”I would like to see Mis' Field an' Lois again, but it seems like a great undertakin',” sighed Amanda. ”Then it's goin' to cost something.”

”It ain't goin' to cost but jest three dollars an' sixty cents,” said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. ”I guess you can afford that, Mandy. There your tenement didn't stay vacant two weeks after the Fields went; the Simmonses came right in. I guess if I had rent-money, an' n.o.body but myself, I could afford to travel once in a while.”

”Now you'd better make up your mind to go, Mandy,” Mrs. Green said.

”I think Mis' Field would be more pleased to see you than anybody in Green River. That's one thing I think about goin'. I know she'll be tickled almost to death to see us comin' in. Mis' Field's a real good woman. There wa'n't anybody in town I set more by than I did by her.”