A Bettie-less Plan
THE first thing that happened after Christmas was the announcement of
the School Board's decision to wait a full year before beginning to
build a new schoolhouse.
"Even if we could decide on a site," said they, "it would be hard
on the tax-payers to furnish money for such a building all at one
assessment. By spreading it over two years' tax-rolls it will come
easier."
The fathers, for the most part, were pleased with the arrangement, but
many of the mothers disliked it very much indeed.
"We must do something about it," said Aunty Jane, who had called at
Mrs. Bennett's to talk the matter over. "I'm in favor of sending
Marjory away to some good girls' school, because she has some money
that is to be used solely for educational purposes. There is enough
for college and for at least one year at a boarding school, besides
something for extras. My conscience will feel easier when that money
begins to go toward its proper purpose."
"The Doctor thinks of going to Germany next fall for a special course
of study that he thinks he needs," returned Mrs. Bennett. "If we could
place Mabel in a safe, comfortable school, I could go with him. We've
been talking of it for a long time."
"I certainly am not satisfied," admitted Mrs. Mapes, when Aunty Jane
put the matter to her. "There are too many pupils crowded into that
Baptist basement and it's so damp that I've had to put cold compresses
on Jean's throat four times since the fire. If you can find a good
school to fit a modest pocketbook we'd be glad to send Jean for the one
year."
Then Aunty Jane unfolded her plans to the Tuckers.
"It's a beautiful idea," said pleasant Dr. Tucker, "as far as the rest
of you are concerned; but you will have to leave Bettie entirely out of
the scheme; we simply can't afford it. We've always hoped to be able
to do something for Dick--he wants to be a physician--but even that is
hopelessly beyond us at present."
"No," added Mrs. Tucker, shifting the heavy baby to her other arm and
hoping that Aunty Jane would not notice the dust on the battered table,
"we couldn't even think of sending Bettie. But Mrs. Slater intends
letting Henrietta go some place next fall; why don't you talk it over
with her?"
"I mean to," assured Aunty Jane. "You see, it will need a great deal of
talking over because it may prove hard to find exactly the right kind
of school. The eastern seminaries are too far away. It must be some
place south of Lakeville, within a day's journey, within reach of all
our pocketbooks, and in a healthful location. It mustn't be too big,
too stylish, or too old-fashioned. I'm sending out postal cards every
day and getting catalogues by every mail; but so far, I haven't come to
any decision except that Marjory is to go _some_ place."
At first, the older people said little about school matters to the four
girls, but as winter wore on it became an understood thing that not
only fortunate Henrietta but Jean, Marjory and Mabel were to go away to
school the following September.
"Won't it be simply glorious," said Henrietta, who was entertaining the
Cottagers in her den, "if all four of us land in the same school; and
we _must_--I shall stand out for that. And you and I, Jean, shall room
together and be chums."
"Then Marjory and I," announced Mabel, "shall room together, too, and
fight just the way we always do if Jean isn't on hand to stop us."
"Won't it be perfectly fine?" breathed Marjory. "I've always loved
boarding-school stories and now we'll be living right in one."
Bettie kept silence, but her eyes were big and troubled. With the
girls gone she knew that her world would be sadly changed. Her close
companionship with the other Cottagers--she was only three when
she first began to play with Jean--had prevented her forming other
friendships. Without doubt, Aunty Jane would be lonely; the Bennetts,
in Germany, might miss noisy, affectionate Mabel, Mrs. Mapes might
long for helpful Jean and Mrs. Slater would certainly find her big,
beautiful home dull with no sparkling Henrietta but it was Bettie,
poor little impecunious, uncomplaining Bettie, who would be the very
loneliest of all. The others would lose only one girl apiece; Bettie's
loss would be fourfold. Lovely Jean, sprightly Marjory, jolly Mabel and
attractive Henrietta--how _could_ she spare them all at once! And the
glorious times the absent four would have together--how _could_ Bettie
miss all that? It seemed, to the little, overwhelmed girl, too big a
trouble to talk about.
For a long, long time the more fortunate girls were too taken up with
their own prospects to think very seriously of Bettie's; but one day
Jean was suddenly astonished at the depth of misery that she surprised
in Bettie's wistful, tell-tale eyes. After that, the girls openly
expressed their pity for Bettie, who would have to stay in Lakeville.
This proved even harder to bear than their light-hearted chatter; for
it made Bettie pity herself to an even greater extent.
Of course, it would be several months before the hated school--Bettie,
by this time, was quite certain that she hated it--would swallow up
her dearest four friends at one sudden, hideous gulp; but remote as
the date was, the interested girls could talk of very little else. No
matter what topic they might begin with, it always worked around at
last to "when I go away next fall."
"I can't have any clothes this spring," said Jean, when the girls, in
a body, were escorting Henrietta home from her dressmaker's. "Mother's
letting my old things down and piecing everything till I feel like a
walking bedquilt. You see, I'm to have new things to go away with."
"Same here," asserted Mabel. "Only _my_ mother's having a worse time
than yours to make my things meet. My waist measure is twenty-nine
inches and my skirt bands are only twenty-seven."
"_Only_ twenty-seven," groaned shapely Henrietta.
"If you see a second Aunty Jane," said Marjory, skipping ahead to
imitate the elder Miss Vale's prim, peculiar walk, "running round
Lakeville all summer, you'll know who it is. She's cutting down two of
her thousand-year-old gowns to tide me over the season. One came out of
the Ark and she purchased the other at a little shop on Mount Ararat."
"Grandmother's making lists," laughed Henrietta, "of all the things
mentioned in all the catalogues. When she gets done, probably she'll
add them all up and divide the result by _me_; and that will give a
respectable outfit for one girl."
"Poor Bettie!" said sympathetic Jean, squeezing Bettie's slim hand.
"You're out of it all, aren't you?"
But this was too much for Bettie. She turned hastily and fled.
The girls looked after her pityingly.
"Poor Bettie!" murmured Jean. "It's awfully hard on her to hear all
this talk about school. She's always had us, you know, and she thinks
there won't be a scrap of Lakeville left when we're gone."
In February Rosa Marie created a little excitement by coming down
with measles. Maggie, the maid, had broken out with this unlovely
affliction and no one had suspected what the trouble was until she had
peeled in the actual presence of Rosa Marie. Of course Rosa Marie came
down with measles too. But there was an unusual feature about this
illness. Although it was Maggie and Rosa Marie who were supposed to be
the sufferers it was really Mrs. Crane who did all the suffering. You
see, this inexperienced lady read all the literature that she could
find that touched on the subject of measles and its after-effects;
and long after Rosa Marie had entirely recovered, conscientious Mrs.
Crane remained awake nights waiting for the dreaded "after-effects" to
develop.
"We'll bury Mrs. Crane with whooping cough," sputtered Dr. Bennett,
writing a soothing prescription for the good lady, "if Rosa Marie ever
catches it. She's a hen bringing up a solitary duckling, and she's
certainly overdoing it. She ought not to have the responsibility of
that child; she's not fitted for responsibilities, yet she's the sort
that takes 'em."
"I'll adopt Rosa Marie myself," declared Henrietta Bedford, hearing
of this opinion and waylaying Dr. Bennett in Mrs. Slater's hall to
make her light-hearted offer. "She'd go beautifully with the other
picturesque objects in my den and I'm very sure that the responsibility
won't weigh _me_ down."
"So am I," laughed Dr. Bennett. "So sure of it that I shan't allow you
to afflict your grandmother with any carelessly adopted babies. But
that child is on my conscience, since Mabel was the principal culprit
in the matter. We'll try to get Mrs. Crane to send her to an asylum;
only that dear lady's conscience will have to be bombarded from all
sides before it will let her consent to any such sensible plan. Perhaps
you can get the girls--particularly Mabel,--to look at the matter from
that point of view; we must rescue Mrs. Crane."
"I'll try to," promised Henrietta.