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.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151