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Page 53
That night she lay awake after she and Molly had gone to bed and Molly
was asleep. They had decided not to tell Molly until the last minute, so
she had dropped off peacefully, as usual. But poor Betsy's eyes were
wide open. She saw a gleam of light under the door. It widened; the door
opened. Aunt Abigail stood there, in her night cap, mountainous in her
long white gown, a candle shining up into her serious old face.
"You awake, Betsy?" she whispered, seeing the child's dark eyes gleaming
at her over the covers. "I just--I just thought I'd look in to see if
you were all right." She came to the edge of the bed and set the candle
down on the little stand. Betsy reached her arms up longingly and the
old woman stooped over her. Neither of them said a single word during
the long embrace which followed. Then Aunt Abigail straightened up
hastily, took her candle very quickly and softly, and heavily padded out
of the room.
Betsy turned over and flung one arm over Molly--no Molly, either, after
tomorrow!
She gulped hard and stared up at the ceiling, dimly white in the
starlight. A gleam of light shone under the door. It widened, and Uncle
Henry stood there, a candle in his hand, peering into the room. "You
awake, Betsy?" he said cautiously.
"Yes. I'm awake, Uncle Henry."
The old man shuffled into the room. "I just got to thinking," he said,
hesitating, "that maybe you'd like to take my watch with you. It's kind
of handy to have a watch on the train. And I'd like real well for you to
have it."
He laid it down on the stand, his own cherished gold watch, that had
been given him when he was twenty-one.
Betsy reached out and took his hard, gnarled old fist in a tight grip.
"Oh, Uncle Henry!" she began, and could not go on.
"We'll miss you, Betsy," he said in an uncertain voice. "It's
been ... it's been real nice to have you here ..."
And then he too snatched up his candle very quickly and almost ran out
of the room.
Betsy turned over on her back. "No crying, now!" she told herself
fiercely. "No crying, now!" She clenched her hands together tightly and
set her teeth.
Something moved in the room. Somebody leaned over her. It was Cousin
Ann, who didn't make a sound, not one, but who took Betsy in her strong
arms and held her close and closer, till Betsy could feel the quick
pulse of the other's heart beating all through her own body. Then she
was gone--as silently as she came.
But somehow that great embrace had taken away all the burning tightness
from Betsy's eyes and heart. She was very, very tired, and soon after
this she fell sound asleep, snuggled up close to Molly.
In the morning, nobody spoke of last night at all. Breakfast was
prepared and eaten, and the team hitched up directly afterward. Betsy
and Uncle Henry were to drive to the station together to meet Aunt
Frances's train. Betsy put on her new wine-colored cashmere that Cousin
Ann had made her, with the soft white collar of delicate old embroidery
that Aunt Abigail had given her out of one of the trunks in the attic.
She and Uncle Henry said very little as they drove to the village, and
even less as they stood waiting together on the platform. Betsy slipped
her hand into his and he held it tight as the train whistled in the
distance and came slowly and laboriously puffing up to the station.
Just one person got off at the little station, and that was Aunt
Frances, looking ever so dressed up and citified, with a fluffy ostrich-
feather boa and kid gloves and a white veil over her face and a big blue
one floating from her gay-flowered velvet hat. How pretty she was! And
how young--under the veil which hid so kindly all the little lines in
her sweet, thin face. And how excited and fluttery! Betsy had forgotten
how fluttery Aunt Frances was! She clasped Betsy to her, and then
started back crying--she must see to her suitcase--and then she clasped
Betsy to her again and shook hands with Uncle Henry, whose grim old face
looked about as cordial and welcoming as the sourest kind of sour
pickle, and she fluttered back and said she must have left her umbrella
on the train. "Oh, Conductor! Conductor! My umbrella--right in my seat--
a blue one with a crooked-over--oh, here it is in my hand! What am I
thinking of!"
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