Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher (recommended ebook reader TXT) 📕

the 3x3’s. And then, very cautiously, a step at a time, they had

advanced, stopping short whenever Betsy felt a beginning of that

bewildered “guessing” impulse which made her answer wildly at random.

After a while, in the dark night which arithmetic had always been to

her, Betsy began to make out a few definite outlines, which were always

there, facts which she knew to be so without guessing from the

expression of her teacher’s face. From that moment her progress had been

rapid, one sure fact hooking itself on to another, and another one on to

that. She attacked a page of problems now with a zest and self-confidence which made her arithmetic lessons among the most interesting

hours at school. On that day she was standing up at the board, a piece

of chalk in her hand, chewing her tongue and thinking hard how to find

out the amount of wall-paper needed for a room 12 feet square with two

doors and two windows in it, when her eye fell on little ‘Lias, bent

over his reading book. She forgot her arithmetic, she forgot where she

was. She stared and stared, till Ellen, catching the direction of her

eyes, looked and stared too. Little ‘Lias was CLEAN, preternaturally,

almost wetly clean. His face was clean and shining, his ears shone pink

and fair, his hands were absolutely spotless, even his hay-colored hair

was clean and, still damp, brushed flatly back till it shone in the sun.

Betsy blinked her eyes a great many times, thinking she must be

dreaming, but every time she opened them there was ‘Lias, looking white

and polished like a new willow whistle.

Somebody poked her hard in the ribs. She started and, turning, saw

Ralph, who was doing a sum beside her on the board, scowling at her

under his black brows. “Quit gawking at ‘Lias,” he said under his

breath. “You make me tired!” Something conscious and shame-faced in his

manner made Betsy understand at once what had happened. Ralph had taken

‘Lias down to the little boys’ wading-place and had washed him all over.

She remembered now that they had a piece of yellow soap there.

Her face broke into a radiant smile and she began to say something to

Ralph about how nice that was of him, but he frowned again and said,

crossly, “Aw, cut it out! Look at what you’ve done there! If I couldn’t

9 x 8 and get it right!”

“How queer boys are!” thought Betsy, erasing her mistake and putting

down the right answer. But she did not try to speak to Ralph again about

‘Lias, not even after school, when she saw ‘Lias going home with a new

cap on his head which she recognized as Ralph’s. She just looked at

Ralph’s bare head, and smiled her eyes at him, keeping the rest of her

face sober, the way Cousin Ann did. For just a minute Ralph almost

smiled back. At least he looked quite friendly. They stepped along

toward home together, the first time Ralph had ever condescended to walk

beside a girl.

“We got a new colt,” he said.

“Have you?” she said. “What color?”

“Black, with a white star, and they’re going to let me ride him when

he’s old enough.”

“My! Won’t that be nice!” said Betsy.

And all the time they were both thinking of little ‘Lias with his new

clothes and his sweet, thin face shining with cleanliness.

“Do you like spruce gum?” asked Ralph.

“Oh, I LOVE gum!” said Betsy.

“Well, I’ll bring you down a chunk tomorrow, if I don’t forget it,” said

Ralph, turning off at the cross-roads.

They had not mentioned ‘Lias at all.

The next day they were to have school only in the morning. In the

afternoon they were to go in a big hay-wagon down to the village to the

“exercises.” ‘Lias came to school in his new blue-serge trousers and his

white blouse. The little girls gloated over his appearance, and hung

around him, for who was to “visit school” that morning but Mr. Pond

himself! Cousin Ann had arranged it somehow. It took Cousin Ann to fix

things! During recess, as they were playing still-pond-no-more-moving on

the playground, Mr. Pond and Uncle Henry drew up to the edge of the

playground, stopped their horse, and, talking and laughing together,

watched the children at play. Betsy looked hard at the big, burly, kind-faced man with the smiling eyes and the hearty laugh, and decided that

he would “do” perfectly for ‘Lias. But what she decided was to have

little importance, apparently, for after all he would not get out of the

wagon, but said he’d have to drive right on to the village. Just like

that, with no excuse other than a careless glance at his watch. No, he

guessed he wouldn’t have time, this morning, he said. Betsy cast an

imploring look up into Uncle Henry’s face, but evidently he felt himself

quite helpless, too. Oh, if only Cousin Ann had come! SHE would have

marched him into the schoolhouse double-quick. But Uncle Henry was not

Cousin Ann, and though Betsy saw him, as they drove away,

conscientiously point out little ‘Lias, resplendent and shining, Mr.

Pond only nodded absently, as though, he were thinking of something

else.

Betsy could have cried with disappointment; but she and the other girls,

putting their heads together for comfort, told each other that there was

time enough yet. Mr. Pond would not leave town till tomorrow.

Perhaps … there was still some hope.

But that afternoon even this last hope was dashed. As they gathered at

the schoolhouse, the girls fresh and crisp in their newly starched

dresses, with red or blue hair-ribbons, the boys very self-conscious in

their dark suits, clean collars, new caps (all but Ralph), and blacked

shoes, there was no little ‘Lias. They waited and waited, but there was

no sign of him. Finally Uncle Henry, who was to drive the straw-ride

down to town, looked at his watch, gathered up the reins, and said they

would be late if they didn’t start right away. Maybe ‘Lias had had a

chance to ride in with somebody else.

They all piled in, the horses stepped off, the wheels grated on the

stones. And just at that moment a dismal sound of sobbing wails reached

them from the woodshed back of the schoolhouse. The children tumbled out

as fast as they had tumbled in, and ran back, Betsy and Ralph at their

head. There in the woodshed was little ‘Lias, huddled in the corner

behind some wood, crying and crying and crying, digging his fists into

his eyes, his face all smeared with tears and dirt. And he was dressed

again in his filthy, torn old overalls and ragged shirt. His poor little

bare feet shone with a piteous cleanliness in that dark place.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” the children asked him all at

once. He flung himself on Ralph, burying his face in the other boy’s

coat, and sobbed out some disjointed story which only Ralph could

hear … and then as last and final climax of the disaster, who should

come looking over the shoulders of the children but Uncle Henry AND Mr.

Pond! And ‘Lias all ragged and dirty again! Betsy sat down weakly on a

pile of wood, utterly disheartened. What was the use of anything!

“What’s the matter?” asked the two men together.

Ralph turned, with an angry toss of his dark head, and told them

bitterly, over the heads of the children: “He just had some decent

clothes. … First ones he’s EVER had! And he was plotting on going to

the exercises in the Town Hall. And that darned old skunk of a

stepfather has gone and taken ‘em and sold ‘em to get whiskey. I’d like

to KILL him!”

Betsy could have flung her arms around Ralph, he looked so exactly the

way she felt. “Yes, he is a darned old skunk!” she said to herself,

rejoicing in the bad words she did not know before. It TOOK bad words to

qualify what had happened.

She saw an electric spark pass from Ralph’s blazing eyes to Mr. Pond’s

broad face, now grim and fierce. She saw Mr. Pond step forward, brushing

the children out of his way, like a giant among dwarfs. She saw him

stoop and pick little ‘Lias up in his great, strong arms, and, holding

him close, stride furiously out of the woodshed, across the playground

to the buggy which was waiting for him.

“He’ll go to the exercises all right!” he called back over his shoulder

in a great roar. “He’ll go, if I have to buy out the whole town to get

him an outfit! And that whelp won’t get these clothes, either; you hear

me say so!”

He sprang into the buggy and, holding ‘Lias on his lap, took up the

reins and drove rapidly forward.

They saw little ‘Lias again, entering the Town Hall, holding fast to Mr.

Pond’s hand. He was magnificent in a whole suit of store clothes, coat

and all, and he wore white stockings and neat, low shoes, like a city

child!

They saw him later, up on the platform, squeaking out his little

patriotic poem, his eyes, shining like stars, fixed on one broad,

smiling face in the audience. When he finished he was overcome with

shyness by the applause, and for a moment forgot to turn and leave the

platform. He hung his head, and, looking out from under his eyebrows,

gave a quaint, shy little smile at the audience. Betsy saw Mr. Pond’s

great smile waver and grow dim. His eyes filled so full that he had to

take out his handkerchief and blow his nose loudly.

And they saw little ‘Lias once more, for the last time. Mr. Pond’s buggy

drove rapidly past their slow-moving hay-wagon, Mr. Pond holding the

reins masterfully in one hand. Beside him, very close, sat ‘Lias with

his lap full of toys, oh, FULL—like Christmas! In that fleeting glimpse

they saw a toy train, a stuffed dog, a candy-box, a pile of picture-books, tops, paper-bags, and even the swinging crane of the big

mechanical toy dredge that everybody said the storekeeper could never

sell to anybody because it cost so much!

As they passed swiftly, ‘Lias looked out at them and waved his little

hand flutteringly. His other hand was tightly clasped in Mr. Pond’s big

one. He was smiling at them all. His eyes looked dazed and radiant. He

turned his head as the buggy flashed by to call out, in a shrill,

exulting little shout, “Good-bye! Good-bye! I’m going to live with …”

They could hear no more. He was gone, only his little hand still waving

at them over the back of the buggy seat.

Betsy drew a long, long breath. She found that Ralph was looking at her.

For a moment she couldn’t think what made him look so different. Then

she saw that he was smiling. She had never seen him smile before. He

smiled at her as though he were sure she would understand, and never

said a word. Betsy looked forward again and saw the gleaming buggy

vanishing over the hill in front of them. She smiled back at Ralph

silently.

Not a thing had happened the way she had planned; no, not a single

thing! But it seemed to her she had never been so happy in her life.