The other child’s head swam. She tried again the formula which had helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself, desperately, “What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!” But that did not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances. Yes, one thing Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first of all.
At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly, “Now, Molly, stop crying this minute. I’ll take care of you, of course. I’ll get you home all right.”
“How’ll you ever do it?” sobbed Molly.
“Everybody’s gone and left us. We can’t walk!”
“Never you mind how,” said Betsy, trying to be facetious and mock-mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little. “That’s my surprise party for you. Just you wait. Now come on back to that booth. Maybe Will Vaughan didn’t go home with his folks.”
She had very little hope of this, and only went back there because it seemed to her a little less dauntingly strange than every other spot in the howling wilderness about her; for all at once the Fair, which had seemed so lively and cheerful and gay before, seemed now a horrible, frightening, noisy place, full of hurried strangers who came and went their own ways, with not a glance out of their hard eyes for two little girls stranded far from home.
The bright-colored young man was no better when they found him again. He stopped his whistling only long enough to say, “Nope, no Will Vaughan anywhere around these diggings yet.”
“We were going home with the Vaughans,” murmured Betsy, in a low tone, hoping for some help from him.
“Looks as though you’d better go home on the cars,” advised the young man casually. He smoothed his black hair back straighter than ever from his forehead and looked over their heads.
“How much does it cost to go to Hillsboro on the cars?” asked Betsy with a sinking heart.