THUS began a new life for both Betsy and Van. Gay, smiling days they were, and, for the most part, full to the brim.
It was country all around the Hospital, which was itself a big and famous one. Dr. Johns was the head doctor, and when he said “Come,” people came there to work, and when he said “Go,” they went away. It had been a great venture for Bob to bring a little dog to a place where everybody was serious and quiet and orderly. Dr. Johns, in his way, was a sort of king on the Hospital Hill, and had much dignity to keep up. What would happen if a riotous little prince of a dog should try to usurp Dr. Johns’ authority, or upset his dignity? It would not do at all.
But there Van was, and Betsy had adopted him for her own. So, when Dr. Johns came home and met the new-comer, he was polite, as he always was, but perhaps a certain warmth was lacking. He remarked that Van was a very pretty dog, but Betsy felt the chill of it, and she ran away with her pet tucked under her arm.
“I think Betsy feels hurt a bit,” said Aunt Kate.
“Hurt? How? I said nothing to hurt her.”
“I think you did not intend to, Ben, but your manner toward the dog was none too cordial. I think he is going to help us solve our problem of Betsy.”
“Well, my dear, I cannot think that it is a good plan for us to keep a dog at an institution. It is a bad example.”
“But Betsy loves him, and she’ll be so disappointed if he is sent away. I think he’ll be a good little fellow, and he’s a thoroughbred, you know, with a pedigree as long as your arm.”
“A thoroughbred, is he? And Betsy loves him? Well, well, if Betsy wants him, and if you want him, of course that settles it.”
“I think I saw a tear in her eye as she went out,” said Mrs. Johns, pushing her point in the path of least resistance.