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

  CHAPTER VIII

  BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND

  BETTY had a confused picture of Mr. Peabody staring at her, his forkarrested half way to his mouth, before she dashed from the kitchen andfled to her room. She flung herself on the bed and burst into tears.

  She lay there for a long time, sobbing uncontrollably and more unhappythan she had ever been in her short life. She missed her mother andfather intolerably, she longed for the kindness of the good, ifquerulous, Mrs. Arnold and the comfort of Uncle Dick's tenderness andprotection.

  "He wouldn't want me to stay here, I know he wouldn't!" she whisperedstormily. "He never would have let me come if he had known what kind ofa place Bramble Farm is. I'll write to him to-night."

  A low whistle came to her. She ran to the window.

  "Sh! Got a piece of string?" came a sibilant whisper. Bob Hendersonpeered up at her from around a lilac bush. "I brought you some breadwith raspberries mashed between it. Let down a cord and I'll tie it on."

  "I'll come down," said Betty promptly. "Can't we take a walk? It looksawfully pretty up the lane."

  "I have to clean two more horses and bed down a sick cow and carryslops to the pigs yet," recited Bob in a matter of fact way, as thoughthese few little duties were commonly performed at the close of hislong day. "After that, though, we might go a little way. It won't bedark."

  "Well, whistle when you're ready," directed Betty. "I won't come downand run the risk of having to talk to Mr. Peabody. And save me thebread!"

  It seemed a long time before Bob whistled, and the gray summer dusk wasdeepening when Betty ran down to join him. He handed her the bread,wrapped in a bit of clean paper, diffidently.

  "I didn't touch it with my hands," he assured her.

  Bob's face was shining from a vigorous scrubbing and his hair wasplastered tight to his head and still wet. He had so evidently triedto make himself neat and his poor frayed overalls and ridiculous shoesmade the task so hopeless that Betty was divided between pity for himand anger at the Peabodys who could treat a member of their householdso shabbily.

  "I guess you kind of shook the old man up," commented Bob, unconsciousof her thoughts. "For half a minute after you slammed the door, he satthere in a daze. Mrs. Peabody wanted to take some supper up to you, buthe wouldn't let her. She's deathly afraid of him."

  "Did he ever hit her?" asked Betty, horrified.

  "No, I don't know that he ever did. He doesn't have to hit her; histalk is worse. They say she used to answer back, but I never heard heropen her mouth to argue with him, and I've been here three years."

  "Do they pay you well?"

  The boy looked at Betty sharply.

  "I thought you were kidding," he said frankly. "Poorhouse childrendon't get paid. We get our board till we're eighteen. We're notsupposed to do enough work to cover more'n that. Just the same, I do asmuch as Wapley or Leison, any day."

  Betty walked along eating her bread and wondering about Bob Henderson.Who, she speculated, had been his father and mother, and how had hehappened to find himself in the poorhouse? And why, oh, why, shouldsuch a boy have had the bad luck to be "taken" by a man like Mr.Peabody? Betty was a courteous girl, and she could not bring herself toask Bob these questions pointblank, however her curiosity urged her.Perhaps when they were better acquainted, she might have a chance. Butthat thought suggested to Betty her letter.

  "I'm going to write to Uncle Dick before I go to bed to-night," sheannounced. "He said I needn't stay if for any good reason I found Iwasn't happy here. I can't stay, Bob, honestly I can't. He wouldn'twant me to. Shall I ask him about a place for you? And where do I mailmy letter?"

  Bob Henderson's face fell. He had hoped that this bright, pretty girl,with her independent and friendly manner, might spend the summer atBramble Farm. Bob had been so long cut off from communication with acompanion of his own age that it was a perfect luxury for him to haveBetty to talk to. Still, he could not help admitting, the Peabodycircle had nothing to offer Betty.

  "Don't mail your letter in the box at the end of the lane," he advisedher. "Joe Peabody might see it and take it out. I'll take it toGlenside with me to-morrow--unless you want to go along? Say, thatwould be great, wouldn't it?"

  Betty liked the idea, and so before they turned back to the housethey arranged to mail the letter secretly in Glenside the followingmorning. Immensely cheered, Betty went in to write to her uncle and Bobdisappeared up the stairs to the attic, where he and the two hired menshared quarters.

  It was too dark to see clearly in her room, and after Betty had gropedaround in a vain hunt for a lamp and matches, she went down to thekitchen intending to ask for a light.

  Mrs. Peabody stood at the table, mixing something in a pan, and a smallglass lamp gave the room all the light it had.

  "I'm setting my bread," the woman explained, as Betty came in. "Wherehave you been dear? You must be hungry."

  "No, I'm not hungry," answered Betty, avoiding explanations. "I've beenout for a little walk. May I have a lamp Mrs. Peabody?"

  Her hostess glanced round to make sure that the door was shut.

  "You can take this one in just a minute," she said, indicating thesmall lamp on the table. "Mr. Peabody's gone up to bed. You see wedon't use lights much in summer--we go to bed early 'cause all handshave to be up at half-past four. And lamps brings the mosquitoes."

  Betty sat down in a chair to wait for her lamp. She was tired from herjourney and the exciting events of the day, but she had made up hermind to write to her uncle that night, and her mind made up, Betty wassure to stick to it.

  "Aren't you going to bed?" asked Betty, taking up the lamp when Mrs.Peabody had finished.

  Mrs. Peabody made no move to leave the kitchen.

  "I like to sit out on the back stoop awhile and get cooled off," shesaid. "Sometimes I go to sleep leaning against the post, and one nightI didn't wake up till morning and Bob Henderson fell over me runningout for wood to start the fire. I like to sit quiet. Sometimes I wish Ihad a dog to keep me company, but Mr. Peabody don't like dogs."

  Betty went back to her room and began her letter. But all the while shewas writing the thought of that lonely woman "sitting quiet" on thedoorstep haunted her. What a life! And she had probably looked forwardto happiness with her husband and home as all girls do.

  The mosquitoes were singing madly about the light before the first fiveminutes had passed, but Betty stuck it out and sealed and addressed herletter, putting it under her pillow for safe keeping. Then she blew outthe light and undressed in the dark. The bed was the hardest thing shehad ever lain upon, but, being a healthy young person and very tired,she fell asleep as quickly as though the mattress had been filled withsoftest down and only wakened when a shaft of sunlight fell across herface. Some one was whistling softly beneath her window.

  Seizing her dressing gown and flinging it across her shoulders, Bettypeered out. Bob Henderson, swinging a milk pail in either hand, wasback of the lilac bush again.

  "Say, it's quarter of six," he called anxiously, as he saw Betty's faceat the window. "Breakfast is at six, and if you don't hurry you'll becheated out of that. I'm going to Glenside right after, too."

  "I'll hurry," promised Betty. "Thank you for telling me. Have you beenup long?"

  "Hour and a half," came the nonchalant answer as Bob hurried on to thebarn.

  Betty sat down on the floor to put on her shoes and stockings. At firstshe was angry to think that she should be made to rush like this inorder to have any breakfast when her uncle was paying her board and inany other household she would have been accorded some considerationas a guest. Then the humor of the situation appealed to her and shelaughed till the tears came. She, Betty Gordon, who often had to becalled three times in the morning, was scrambling into her clothes attop speed in the hope of securing something to eat.

  "It's too funny!" she gasped as she pulled a middy blouse on over herhead. "I'll bet the Peabody's never have to call any one twice to cometo the table; not if they're within heari
ng distance. They come firstcall without coaxing."

  The breakfast table was set in the kitchen, and when Betty enteredMrs. Peabody was putting small white saucers of oatmeal at each place.Ordinarily Betty did not care for oatmeal in warm weather, but thismorning she was in no mood to quarrel with anything eatable and shedispatched her portion almost as quickly as Bob did his. Mr. Peabodygrunted something which she took to mean good-morning, and the twohired men simply nodded to her. After the oatmeal came fried potatoes,bread without butter, ham and coffee. There was no milk to drink and noeggs.

  "If I was going to stay," thought Betty to herself, "I'd get some stuffover in town and hide it in my room. I wonder if I couldn't anyway.When I leave, Bob would have it."

  She fell to planning what she would buy and became as silent as any ofthe other five at that queer table.