"Help! HELP!" she screamed. "Betsy! Oh, Betsy!"
She had turned as white as a sheet and could not take a single step
forward. "It's nothing! It's nothing!" said Betsy, rather impatiently.
"He's just playing. We often play with him, Shep and I."
The calf came a little nearer, with lowered head. "GET away!" said Betsy
indifferently, kicking at him.
At this hint of masterfulness on Betsy's part, Aunt Frances cried out,
"Oh, yes, Betsy, DO make him go away! Do make him go away!"
It came over Betsy that Aunt Frances was really frightened, yes, really;
and all at once her impatience disappeared, never to come back again.
She felt toward Aunt Frances just as she did toward little Molly, and
she acted accordingly. She stepped in front of Aunt Frances, picked up a
stick, and hit the calf a blow on the neck with it. He moved away,
startled and injured, looking at his playfellow with reproachful eyes.
But Betsy was relentless. Aunt Frances must not be frightened!
"Here, Shep! Here, Shep!" she called loudly, and when the big dog came
bounding to her she pointed to the calf and said sternly, "Take him into
the barn! Drive him into the barn, sir!"
Shep asked nothing better than this command, and charged forward,
barking furiously and leaping into the air as though he intended to eat
the calf up alive. The two swept across the barnyard and into the lower
regions of the barn.
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