“It isn’t,” returned Bettie, soberly. “The baby has been sick and Mother hasn’t been able to do a thing. I’ve darned two pairs of stockings and taken the hem out of an old petticoat—and that’s all. I’m—I’m getting worried.”
Suddenly Bettie’s lip quivered and Jean noticed it. Now, Jean was thoughtful beyond her years and she knew that the Tuckers had very little money to spend for clothes. When she reached home, still wondering where Bettie’s wardrobe was to come from, she found her mother entertaining Mr. Black’s stout middle-aged sister, Mrs. Crane.
“Well, Jeanie girl,” said Mrs. Crane, “I’ve been admiring your new silk petticoat. I suppose you are all just about ready for school.”
“Bettie isn’t,” returned Jean, soberly. “I’ve been thinking about it all the way home. Mrs. Tucker never was very smart about Bettie’s clothes, you know, and of course they haven’t any money. The things that come out of missionary boxes never do seem to be just right. I don’t see where Bettie’s outfit is coming from.”
“Bless my soul!” cried Mrs. Crane, “I’m just an old idiot. And so is Peter. Here is this blessed old goose of a brother of mine sending Bettie off to school for a year and neither of us thinking that she’d need clothes. What ought she to have, Mrs. Mapes? You make out the list and I’ll get the things. Why! I’d just love to do it.”
Left to herself, it is to be feared that Mrs. Crane would have done fearful things. Her mind ran to gay plaids with red predominating; and at first she talked much of materials for pinafores—a species of garment in vogue in her own remote youth; but with much sound advice from Mrs. Mapes it was not long before Bettie’s wardrobe compared very well with Jean’s.
Mrs. Crane, however, indulged in a few wild purchases that satisfied her love for color and greatly amused Henrietta. There was a gay plaid dress with brass buttons, a pair of bright blue stockings, some red mittens, a wonderful knitted scarf of many hues, a purple workbag and at least four strings of gaudy beads. Fortunately, there were plenty of garments without these and Bettie declared that Mrs. Crane’s queer purchases made the dark depths of her big trunk quite bright and cheerful.
“As for my trunk,” laughed happy Bettie, “it’s big enough to live in and it’s all mine forever and ever.”
[CHAPTER III—LOST]
But it is high time we were returning to Chicago to look after the lost Lakeville children.