Betsy turned quickly. A very pretty girl with yellow hair and blue eyes (she looked as Molly might when she was grown-up) was leaning over the edge of a little canvas-covered booth, the sign of which announced that home-made doughnuts and soft drinks were for sale there. A young man, very flushed and gay, was pulling at the girl’s blue gingham sleeve. “Oh, come on, Annie. Just one turn! The floor’s elegant. You can keep an eye on the booth from the hall! Nobody’s going to run away with the old thing anyhow!”
“Honest, I’d love to! But I got a great lot of dishes to wash, too! You know Momma!” She looked longingly toward the open-air dancing floor, out from which just then floated a burst of brazen music.
“Oh, please!” said a small voice. “I’ll do it for twenty cents.”
Betsy stood by the girl’s elbow, all quivering earnestness.
“Do what, kiddie?” asked the girl in a good-natured surprise.
“Everything!” said Betsy, compendiously. “Everything! Wash the dishes, tend the booth; you can go dance! I’ll do it for twenty cents.”
The eyes of the girl and the man met in high amusement. “My! Aren’t we up and coming!” said the man. “You’re most as big as a pint-cup, aren’t you?” he said to Betsy.
The little girl flushed—she detested being laughed at—but she looked straight into the laughing eyes. “I’m ten years old today,” she said, “and I can wash dishes as well as anybody.” She spoke with dignity.
The young man burst out into a great laugh.
“Great kid, what!” he said to the girl, and then, “Say, Annie, why not? Your mother won’t be here for an hour. The kid can keep folks from walking off with the dope and ...”