Understood Betsy | Page 6

could be extracted from her about
Elizabeth Ann. "Just keep her for the present, Molly!" she said to
Cousin Molly Lathrop. "I'll do something soon. I'll write you. I'll make
another arrangement ... but just NOW ... ."
Her voice was quavering on the edge of tears, and Cousin Molly
Lathrop, who hated scenes, said hastily, "Yes, oh, yes, of course. For
the present ..." and went away, thinking that she didn't see why she
should have ALL the disagreeable things to do. When she had her
husband's tyrannical old mother to take care of, wasn't that enough,
without adding to the household such a nervous, spoiled, morbid young
one as Elizabeth Ann!
Elizabeth Ann did not of course for a moment dream that Cousin Molly
was thinking any such things about her, but she could not help seeing

that Cousin Molly was not any too enthusiastic about taking her in; and
she was already feeling terribly forlorn about the sudden, unexpected
change in Aunt Frances, who had been SO wrapped up in her and now
was just as much wrapped up in Aunt Harriet. Do you know, I am sorry
for Elizabeth Ann, and, what's more, I have been ever since this story
began.
Well, since I promised you that I was not going to tell about more tears,
I won't say a single word about the day when the two aunts went away
on the train, for there is nothing much but tears to tell about, except
perhaps an absent look in Aunt Frances's eyes which hurt the little girl's
feelings dreadfully.
And then Cousin Molly took the hand of the sobbing little girl and led
her back to the Lathrop house. But if you think you are now going to
hear about the Lathrops, you are quite mistaken, for just at this moment
old Mrs. Lathrop took a hand in the matter. She was Cousin Molly's
husband's mother, and, of course, no relation at all to Elizabeth Ann,
and so was less enthusiastic than anybody else. All that Elizabeth Ann
ever saw of this old lady, who now turned the current of her life again,
was her head, sticking out of a second-story window; and that's all that
you need to know about her, either. It was a very much agitated old
head, and it bobbed and shook with the intensity with which the
imperative old voice called upon Cousin Molly and Elizabeth Ann to
stop right there where they were on the front walk.
"The doctor says that what's the matter with Bridget is scarlet fever,
and we've all got to be quarantined. There's no earthly sense bringing
that child in to be sick and have it, and be nursed, and make the
quarantine twice as long!"
"But, Mother!" called Cousin Molly, "I can't leave the child in the
middle of the street!"
Elizabeth Ann was actually glad to hear her say that, because she was
feeling so awfully unwanted, which is, if you think of it, not a very
cheerful feeling for a little girl who has been the hub round which a
whole household was revolving.

"You don't HAVE to!" shouted old Mrs. Lathrop out of her
second-story window. Although she did not add "You gump!" aloud,
you could feel she was meaning just that. "You don't have to! You can
just send her to the Putney cousins. All nonsense about her not going
there in the first place. They invited her the minute they heard of
Harriet's being so bad. They're the natural ones to take her in. Abigail is
her mother's own aunt, and Ann is her own
first-cousin-once-removed ... just as close as Harriet and Frances are,
and MUCH closer than you! And on a farm and all ... just the place for
her!"
"But how under the sun, Mother!" shouted Cousin Molly back, "can I
GET her to the Putneys'? You can't send a child of nine a thousand
miles without ..."
Old Mrs. Lathrop looked again as though she were saying "You
gump!" and said aloud, "Why, there's James, going to New York on
business in a few days anyhow. He can just go now, and take her along
and put her on the right train at Albany. If he wires from here, they'll
meet her in Hillsboro."
And that was just what happened. Perhaps you may have guessed by
this time that when old Mrs. Lathrop issued orders they were usually
obeyed. As to who the Bridget was who had the scarlet fever, I know
no more than you. I take it, from the name, she was the cook. Unless,
indeed, old Mrs. Lathrop made her up for the occasion, which I think
she would have been quite capable of doing, don't you?
At any rate, with no more ifs