“Humph,” said Betsey. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter with you; you’re nervous, and no wonder.”
“Oh, Cousin Betsey! don’t be hard on me. I’ll be all right in a minute. I know I’m foolish, and it is a shame now that you are here not to be better company.”
“You are nervous,” repeated Betsey. “And what you want is to feel the fresh air blowing about you. See here, old Samson is right here in the shed. You go and put on your things and have a drive. It will do you all the good in the world.”
“And will you come with me?”
“No, I guess not. Then you’d want to hurry right home again, because of your father. I’ll stay with him, and then you won’t worry. If he’s pretty well, I want to have a talk with him anyway, and now will be as good a time as any. So don’t you hurry back.”
“Well, I won’t. But it doesn’t seem worth while to go alone.”
“Yes, it does. And see here! You go over as far as Mrs Fleming’s. She’ll do you good, and maybe she’ll let Katie come home with you to stay a day or two. What you want is to have somebody to look at besides Sally Griffith, and I don’t know anybody any better for that than little Katie Fleming. Her grandmother will let her come, seeing you are alone.”
It was not a blight day even yet, though the snow had ceased to fall, and the clouds were clearing away. Elizabeth looked out of the window, hesitating.
“If any one should come in,” said she.
“Well, I guess I could say all that need be said—unless it was anybody very particular, and then I could keep them till you came home again.”