|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 45
"Oh, the Wendells can't be gone yet," said Betsy reassuringly, though
she was not at all sure she was telling the truth. She ran as fast as
she could drag Molly's fat legs, to the horse-shed where Mr. Wendell had
tied his horses and left the surrey. The horse-shed was empty, quite
empty.
Betsy stopped short and stood still, her heart seeming to be up in her
throat so that she could hardly breathe. After all, she was only ten
that day, you must remember. Molly began to cry loudly, hiding her
weeping face in Betsy's dress. "What will we do, Betsy! What can we DO!"
she wailed.
Betsy did not answer. She did not know what they WOULD do! They were
eight miles from Putney Farm, far too much for Molly to walk, and anyhow
neither of them knew the way. They had only ten cents left, and nothing
to eat. And the only people they knew in all that throng of strangers
had gone back to Hillsboro.
"What will we do, Betsy?" Molly kept on crying out, horrified by Betsy's
silence and evident consternation.
The other child's head swam. She tried again the formula which had
helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself,
desperately, "What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!" But that did
not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what
Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances. Yes, one thing
Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first
of all.
At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken
little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly,
"Now, Molly, stop crying this minute. I'll take care of you, of course.
I'll get you home all right."
"How'll you ever do it?" sobbed Molly.
"Everybody's gone and left us. We can't walk!"
"Never you mind how," said Betsy, trying to be facetious and mock-
mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little. "That's my
surprise party for you. Just you wait. Now come on back to that booth.
Maybe Will Vaughan didn't go home with his folks."
She had very little hope of this, and only went back there because it
seemed to her a little less dauntingly strange than every other spot in
the howling wilderness about her; for all at once the Fair, which had
seemed so lively and cheerful and gay before, seemed now a horrible,
frightening, noisy place, full of hurried strangers who came and went
their own ways, with not a glance out of their hard eyes for two little
girls stranded far from home.
The bright-colored young man was no better when they found him again. He
stopped his whistling only long enough to say, "Nope, no Will Vaughan
anywhere around these diggings yet."
"We were going home with the Vaughans," murmured Betsy, in a low tone,
hoping for some help from him.
"Looks as though you'd better go home on the cars," advised the young
man casually. He smoothed his black hair back straighter than ever from
his forehead and looked over their heads.
"How much does it cost to go to Hillsboro on the cars?" asked Betsy with
a sinking heart.
"You'll have to ask somebody else about that," said the young man. "What
I don't know about this Rube state! I never was in it before." He spoke
as though he were very proud of the fact.
Betsy turned and went over to the older man who had told them about the
Vaughans.
Molly trotted at her heels, quite comforted, now that Betsy was talking
so competently to grown-ups. She did not hear what they said, nor try
to. Now that Betsy's voice sounded all right she had no more fears.
Betsy would manage somehow. She heard Betsy's voice again talking to the
other man, but she was busy looking at an exhibit of beautiful jelly
glasses, and paid no attention. Then Betsy led her away again out of
doors, where everybody was walking back and forth under the bright
September sky, blowing on horns, waving plumes of brilliant tissue-
paper, tickling each other with peacock feathers, and eating pop-corn
and candy out of paper bags.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|