“Everything, unless the courts decide in our favor. I’ve arranged for the earliest possible hearing. It may not be until spring, however, but we can easily prove him incompetent as a father. Betsy has no love for him, and would certainly choose us, and that would help. And when we are assured that we have the custody of the child, we’ll adopt little Betsy, regularly and in order. What do you say, Kate?”
For answer Kate put her arms around her husband, and kissed him tenderly.
Late that evening, as Aunt Kate was going the rounds of the house, she stopped at Betsy’s door and listened. The sound of a long-drawn gasping breath met her ears, and she opened the door softly and went in.
The dim light of the moon shone in at the southern window, and Betsy lay at the foot of her couch with one arm tightly around Van. The little Knave of Hearts slept as soundly as if he had been a good, obedient dog all his life.
Aunt Kate sat down beside the little maid, and Betsy’s free hand stole into hers.
“Don’t cry, Betsy dear. He’ll come back all right, and be a good dog forever after.”
“It doesn’t seem—it doesn’t seem,” sobbed Betsy, “as if I could possibly live without him.”
“Betsy mine,” Aunt Kate squeezed the little hand tighter, “do you know how we have grown to love you? I haven’t wanted to force you; I wanted you to come to me of your own free will, but I must say just this; when you get big enough to understand, you will know that Uncle Ben and Aunt Kate never had any little children, and they wanted them; and there’s a place all ready in their hearts. And when little Betsy is ready she can crawl right in and stay there.”
One great sob burst from Betsy, a sob that seemed to break open the very flood-gates of life. She lifted both arms and put them tightly around Aunt Kate’s neck.
“Auntie Kate, Auntie Kate,” she whispered, and in the dark she was not ashamed. “I do love you and I love Uncle Ben. I wouldn’t ever want anybody better in the whole wide world.”