“Oh, I’m going to stay! I’m going to stay!” screamed Betsy.
But as Molly had not had any notion of the contrary, she only said, “Of course, why not?” and went on to something really important, saying, in a very much capitalized statement, “My kitten can walk! It took three steps just now.”
After Aunt Frances got her wraps off, Betsy took her for a tour of inspection. They went all over the house first, with special emphasis laid on the living-room. “Isn’t this the loveliest place?” said Betsy, fervently, looking about her at the white curtains, the bright flowers, the southern sunshine, the bookcases, and the bright cooking utensils. It was all full to the brim to her eyes with happiness, and she forgot entirely that she had thought it a very poor, common kind of room when she had first seen it. Nor did she notice that Aunt Frances showed no enthusiasm over it now.
She stopped for a few moments to wash some potatoes and put them into the oven for dinner. Aunt Frances opened her eyes at this. “I always see to the potatoes and the apples, the cooking of them, I mean,” explained Betsy proudly. “I’ve just learned to make apple pie and brown betty.”
Then down into the stone-floored milk-room, where Aunt Abigail was working over butter, and where Betsy, swelling with pride, showed Aunt Frances how deftly and smoothly she could manipulate the wooden paddle and make rolls of butter that weighed within an ounce or two of a pound.
“Mercy, child! Think of your being able to do such things!” said Aunt Frances, more and more astonished.
They went out of doors now, Shep bounding by their side. Betsy was amazed to see that Aunt Frances drew back, quite nervously, whenever the big dog frisked near her. Out in the barn Betsy had a disappointment. Aunt Frances just balked absolutely at those ladder-like stairs—“Oh, I couldn’t! I couldn’t, dear. Do you go up there? Is it quite safe?”
“Why, Aunt Abigail went up there to see the kittens!” cried Betsy, on the edge of exasperation. But her heart softened at the sight of Aunt Frances’s evident distress of mind at the very idea of climbing into the loft, and she brought the kittens down for inspection, Eleanor mewing anxiously at the top of the stairs.
On the way back to the house they had an adventure, a sort of adventure, and it brought home to Betsy once for all how much she loved dear, sweet Aunt Frances, and just what kind of love it was.
As they crossed the barnyard the calf approached them playfully, leaping stiff-legged into the air, and making a pretense of butting at them with its hornless young head.