Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm; Or, The Mystery of a Nobody Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  A KEEN DISAPPOINTMENT

  "I'M just as bad as he is, every bit," sobbed poor little Betty. "UncleDick would say so. I'm in his house, much as I hate it, and I hadn'tany right to call him names--only he is so hateful! Oh, dear, I wonderif I shall ever get away from here!"

  She cried herself into a headache, and had no heart to open the parcelof groceries or to go down to ask Mrs. Peabody for something to eat,though indeed the girl knew she stood small chance of securing as muchas a cracker after the dinner hour.

  Suddenly some one put a soothing hand on her hot forehead, and, openingher swollen eyes, Betty saw Mrs. Peabody standing beside the bed.

  "You poor lamb!" said the woman compassionately. "You mustn't go onlike this, dear. You'll make yourself sick. I'm going to close theblinds and shut out the sun; then I'll get a cold cloth for your head.You'd feel better if you had something to eat, though. You mustn't gowithout your meals, child."

  "I've got some crackers and bouillon cubes," replied Betty wearily. "Isuppose Mr. Peabody wouldn't mind if I used a little hot water from thetea kettle?"

  She bit her tongue with vexation at the sarcasm, but Mrs. Peabodyapparently saw no implication.

  "The kitchen fire's gone out, but the kettle's still hot," sheanswered. "I'll step down and get you a cup. I have just ninety cobsto get supper on, or I'd build up a fresh fire for you. Joe counts thecobs; he wants they should last till the first of July."

  "Oh, how do you stand it?" burst from Betty. "I should think you'd gocrazy. Don't you ever want to scream?"

  Mrs. Peabody stopped in the doorway.

  "I used to care," she admitted apathetically. "Not any more. You canget used to anything. Besides, it's no use, Betty; you'll find thatout. Flinging yourself against a stone wall only bruises you--the walldoesn't even feel you trying."

  "Bring up two cups," called Betty, as Mrs. Peabody started down stairs.

  "I'll bet she flung herself against the stone wall till all the spiritand life was crushed out of her," mused the girl, lying flat on herback, her eyes fixed on the fly-specked ceiling. "Poor soul, it must beawful to have to give up even trying."

  Mrs. Peabody came back with two cracked china cups and saucers, and atea kettle half full of passably hot water. Betty forgot her throbbinghead as she bustled about, spreading white paper napkins on thebed--there was no table and only one chair in the room--and arrangingher crackers and a package of saltines which she deftly spread withpotted ham.

  "We'll have a make-believe party," she declared tactfully, dropping acouple of soup cubes in each cup and adding the hot water. "I'm sureyou're hungry; you jump up so much at the table, you don't half eatyour meals."

  Mrs. Peabody raised her eyes--faded eyes but still honest.

  "I've no more pride left," she said quietly.

  "Goodness!" exclaimed Betty, "I bought you something this morning, andhaven't given it to you."

  Mrs. Peabody was as pleased as a child with the pretty bottle of toiletwater, and Betty extracted a promise from her that she would use it forher headaches, and not "save" it.

  "If I was going to stay," thought Betty, stowing her packages ofgoodies under the bed as the most convenient place presenting itself,"I might be able to make things a little pleasanter for Mrs. Peabody. Ido wonder when Uncle Dick will write."

  She had allowed four days as the shortest time in which her uncle couldpossibly get an answer to her, so she was agreeably delighted when, ongoing out to the mailbox at the head of the lane the third morning, shefound a letter addressed to her and postmarked "Philadelphia." Therewas no other mail in the box. The Peabodys did not even subscribe for aweekly paper.

  "Bob!" shouted Betty, hurdling a fence and bearing down upon that youthas he hoed corn in a near by field. "Bob, here's a letter from UncleDick! He's answered so soon, I'm sure he says I can come to him. Won'tthat be great?"

  Bob nodded grimly and went on with his work while Betty eagerlytore open her envelope. After she had read the first few lines thebrightness went out of her face, and when she looked up at Bob she wascrying.

  "What's the matter, is he sick?" asked the boy in alarm.

  "He hasn't had my letter at all!" wept Betty. "He never got it! Thiswas written the same day I wrote him, and he says he's going out tothe oil wells and won't be in touch with civilization for some weeksto come. His lawyer in Philadelphia is to hold his mail, and send thechecks for my board. And he thinks I'm having a good time with his oldfriend Agatha and encloses a check for ten dollars for me to spend.Oh, Bob!" and the unhappy Betty flung her arms around the neck of theastonished Bob and cried as though her heart would break.

  "There, there!" Bob patted her awkwardly, in his excitement hittingher with the hoe handle, but neither of them knew that. "There, Betty,maybe things won't be as bad as you think. You can go to Glenside andget books from the library--they've got a right nice little library.It would be nice if you had a bicycle or something to go on, but youhaven't."

  "Uncle's sending me a riding habit," said Betty, wiping her eyes. "Anda whole bundle of books and a parcel of magazines. He says he never yetsaw a farm with enough reading material on the parlor table. I will beglad to have something to read."

  "Sure. And Sundays I can borrow a magazine," and Bob's eyes shone withanticipated enjoyment. "Sunday's the one day I have any time to myselfand there's never much to do."

  Betty slipped the letter into her blouse pocket. She was bitterlydisappointed to think that she must stay at Bramble Farm, and she didnot relish the idea of having to confess to the Peabodys that her plansfor leaving them had been rather premature.

  "I say," Bob looked up from his hoeing, the shrewd light in his eyesthat made him appear older than his thirteen years. "I say, Betty, ifyou're wise, you won't say anything about this letter up at the house.Old Peabody doesn't know you've written to your uncle, and he'll thinkyou changed your mind. I half believe he thinks you were only speakingin a fit of temper, anyway. If you tell him you can't reach your uncleby letter, and have to stay here for the next few weeks whether youwill or no, he'll think he has you right where he wants you. He can'thelp taking advantage of every one."

  "Doesn't any one ever come to call?" Betty asked a day or two later,following Bob out to the pasture to help him salt the sheep.

  It was a Sunday morning, and even Mr. Peabody so far respected theSabbath that he exacted only half as much as usual from his help.The milking, of course, had to be done, and the stock fed, but thataccomplished, after breakfast, Wapley and Lieson, the hired men, hadset off to walk to Glenside to spend their week's wages as they sawfit. They had long ago, after wordy battles, learned the futility oftrying to borrow a horse from Mr. Peabody.

  Bob had finished his usual chores, and after salting the sheep would bepractically free for the day. He and Betty had planned to take theirbooks out into the orchard and enjoy the peaceful sunniness of thelovely June weather.

  "Come to call?" repeated Bob, letting down the bars of the rockypasture. "What would they come to call for? No one would be civil to'em, and Mrs. Peabody runs when she sees any one coming. She hasn't gota decent dress; so I don't blame her much. Here, you sit down and I'llcall them."

  Betty sat down on a flat rock and Bob spread out his salt on another.The sheep knew his voice and came slowly toward him.

  "Come on now, Betty, and let's have a whack at that magazine, the oneabout out West," said Bob at last.

  The promised package of books and magazines had arrived, and Betty hadgenerously placed them at the disposal of the household. Wapley andLieson had displayed a pathetic eagerness for "pictures," and sat upafter supper as long as the light lasted, turning over the illustratedpages. Betty doubted if they could read.