She had PLEASED Cousin Ann.
That night, as she lay in her bed, her arm over Molly cuddled up warm
beside her, she remembered, oh, ever so faintly, as something of no
importance, that she had failed in an examination that afternoon.
CHAPTER VIII
BETSY STARTS A SEWING SOCIETY
Betsy and Molly had taken Deborah to school with them. Deborah was the
old wooden doll with brown, painted curls. She had lain in a trunk
almost ever since Aunt Abigail's childhood, because Cousin Ann had never
cared for dolls when she was a little girl. At first Betsy had not dared
to ask to see her, much less to play with her, but when Ellen, as she
had promised, came over to Putney Farm that first Saturday she had said
right out, as soon as she landed in the house, "Oh, Mrs. Putney, can't
we play with Deborah?" And Aunt Abigail had answered: "Why YES, of
course! I KNEW there was something I've kept forgetting!" She went up
with them herself to the cold attic and opened the little hair-trunk
under the eaves.
There lay a doll, flat on her back, looking up at them brightly out of
her blue eyes.
"Well, Debby dear," said Aunt Abigail, taking her up gently. "It's a
good long time since you and I played under the lilac bushes, isn't it?
I expect you've been pretty lonesome up here all these years. Never you
mind, you'll have some good times again, now.
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