CHAPTER X
FELLOW TRAVELERS
It is sometimes said that in moments of danger one's whole lifepasses swiftly in review through the mind, but Betty always declaredthat she had just a single thought when it seemed that in anothermoment she would be trampled under the mare's hoofs; she had nottelegraphed to her uncle and he would not know where she had gone.
The horse continued to cover the ground rapidly, and then, when ithad almost reached the terrified girl, fear lent sudden wings toBetty's leaden feet. She turned and ran.
Speeding over the field toward the fence at the other end, she couldhear the steady pounding of the mare's hoofs, though she did not dareto glance over her shoulder. Her thoughts worked busily, trying tofigure out a way to climb over or under the fence, and she had alively fear of those terrible teeth nipping her as she tried toclimb. As the fence seemed to her strained vision to rise suddenlyfrom the ground and come to meet her, a way to safety opened.
Before she began to run she had unconsciously stooped to gather hersweater from the ground where she had dropped it, and now she turnedand waved the garment frantically in the furious animal's face.Bewildered and confused, the mare stopped, and, as Betty continued toflap the sweater, she turned and dashed back to her colt. Weakly thegirl tumbled over the fence and the adventure was over.
"She thought you were going to hurt Pinto," said Mrs. Brill, whenshe heard the story. "Goodness, I certainly am glad you had thepresence of mind to shake your sweater at old Phyllis. Wouldn't ithave been dreadful if she had bitten you!"
The next morning, Betty said good-by to the hospitable family whohad been so wonderfully kind to her, and, much refreshed after aluxurious hot bath and a night's sleep in the pretty guest room, tookthe trolley car into town with Mr. Brill, who at the station doorbade her farewell in his capacity of host and two minutes later astelegraph operator sent her message to Uncle Dick in Washington.
The 7:45 was on time to the minute, and as the long train pulled inand the porter helped her on, Betty drew a long breath of relief.Surely there could be no more delays and in a comparatively few hoursshe might hope to be with her uncle and know the comfort of tellinghim her experiences instead of trusting their recital to letters.
The train had been made up late the night before and many of thepassengers were still sleepy-eyed after restless hours in theirberths. A good many of them were at breakfast in the dining car, andas there was no parlor car Betty had to take half a section alreadyoccupied by a rather frowsy young woman with two small children.
"We take on a parlor car at Willowvale," the porter assured Betty,only too sympathetically, for he had been waiting on the woman andher children since the afternoon before. "I'll see that you get achair then, Miss."
Betty settled herself as comfortably as she could and opened hermagazine.
"Read to me?" suggested a little voice, and a sticky hand caressedher skirt timidly.
"Now don't bother the lady," said the mother, trying to pull thechild away. "My land, if I ever live to get you children to yourgrandmother's I'll be thankful! Lottie, stop making scratches on thatwindow sill!"
Lottie pursed her pretty mouth in a pout and drummed her small heelsdiscontentedly against the green plush of the seat.
Betty smiled into the rebellious blue eyes and was rewarded by asudden, radiant smile. She closed her magazine and found the mothergazing at her with a look almost as childlike in its friendlycuriosity as her little daughter's.
"You've got a way with children, haven't you?" said the womanwistfully. "I guess everybody on this train will be glad when we getoff. The children have been perfect torments, and Lottie cried halfthe night. We're none of us used to traveling, and they're so mussedup and dirty I could cry. At home I keep 'em looking as neat as wax.We're going to see my husband's mother, and I know she'll think Istarted with 'em looking like this."
Betty was far older than many girls her age in some things. She wasself-reliant and used to observing for herself, and she had a richfund of warm and ready sympathy that was essentially practical. Shesaw that the mother of these lively, untidy children was very young,hardly more than a girl, and worn-out and nervous as a result oftaking a long journey with no help and little traveling experience.She was probably, and naturally, anxious that her children shouldimpress their father's mother favorably, and it took littleimagination to understand that in her home the young mother had beenused to praise for her excellent management. Betty, added to herqualities of leadership and sound judgment, had a decided "knack"with children. In Pineville she had been a general favorite with thelittle ones, and many a mother had secretly marveled at the girl'sability to control the most headstrong youngster. Now she seized theopportunity presented to help a fellow-passenger.
"Have you had your breakfast?" she asked. "No? I thought not. Well,I had mine before I got on the train. If you are willing to trust thechildren with me, I'll amuse them while you go into the diner andhave a quiet meal. You'll feel much better then."
"Oh, it's been a nightmare!" confided the young mother with a suddenrush of feeling. "Nobody ever told me what it would be like to travelwith two children. Lottie upset her milk and Baby spilled her supperon the floor. And people just glare at me and never offer to help. Itwill be heavenly to eat my breakfast without them, but I feel thatI'm imposing on you."
Betty managed to send her off convinced that everything was as itshould be, and to the mother's surprise the children snuggled downlike little mice to listen to the honorable and ancient story of theThree Bears. By the time a rested and radiant mother came back tothem, for she had stolen a little time in the dressing room andrearranged her fair hair and adjusted her trim frock, something shehad found it impossible to accomplish with two restless childrenclinging to her skirts, Lottie and Baby were firm friends with MissBetty.
"I never knew any one as lovely as you are!" The gratitude of thewoman was touching. "I was just about crazy. My husband tipped theporter, and he did try to look after me, but he didn't know what todo. Usually there is a maid on this train, they told us, but she wastaken sick, and there wasn't time to get any one to fill her place.Now don't let the children bother you. They had their breakfastearly, and I can read to them till we get to Willowvale where theirgrandmother will meet us."
But Betty had not finished. She loved the feel of soft little armsabout her neck and there was not much connected with a baby's welfareshe did not know about. Many a Pineville baby she had washed anddressed and fed as correctly as a model baby should be.
"Let me take them one at a time and tidy them up?" she suggested."They'll take to it kindly, because I am new and that will lend tothe washing a novelty. If we go in relays, we can't upset the wholecar."
So first with Lottie, and then with Baby, who seemed to be withoutother name, Betty went into the dressing-room and there washed pinkand white faces and hands till they shone, and brushed silk lockstill they lay straight and shining. Clean frocks were forthcoming,and two spick and span babies emerged to beam upon a transformedworld no longer seen through a veil of tears. This new friend couldtell the most wonderful stories, invent delightful games, and singdozens of foolish little rhymes in a low sweet voice that disturbedno one and yet allowed every word to be distinctly understood.
Both children went to sleep during the morning, and then Betty heardthat Mrs. Clenning, as the mother introduced herself, lived in theWest and that this journey to Willowvale was the first she had takensince the birth of the babies.
"My husband's mother is crazy to see them because they are her onlygrandchildren," she explained. "I didn't want to come without Mr.Clenning, but he couldn't get away for a couple of months. He is tocome after us and take us home. If he didn't, I'm sure I'd live Eastthe rest of my days, or at least till the children are grown up. I'llnever have the courage to try a long train trip with them again."
Before Willowvale was reached Betty helped Mrs. Clenning get herwraps and bags together and tied the babies into bewitching whitebonnets with
long fluted strings. The porter came for the bags, butBetty carried the younger child to the car door and handed her downto the mother, who had gone first with Lottie. She saw a tall,stately, white-haired woman, dressed all in white from her shoes toher hat, gather all three into her arms, and then went back to herseat satisfied that the mother's troubles were over.
"Parlor car's ready, Miss," announced the porter, coming up to her."Shall I take you on in?"
Betty followed him, to be established comfortably on the shady sideof the car, with the window adjusted at the most comfortable height.She did not hear the porter's comment to the conductor when he passedhim in the vestibule of the parlor car.
"That girl in seat fourteen, she's one perfect little lady," saidthe dusky porter earnestly. "You jest observe her when you takes herticket. 'Member that lady with the two children what racketed all dayand all night? Well, she done fix those two kids up till you wouldn'tknow 'em, and cheered their mother up, too. And all jest as prettyand like a lady. That mighty fine lady in the red hat (I give her aseat on the sunny side of the car a-purpose) wouldn't do nothingyesterday when I axted her to hold a glass of milk while I went toget a extra pillow. Said she wasn't going to be nursemaid to nostranger's brats!"
So Betty was zealously looked after by the whole train crew, for thestory had spread, and the siege of Clenning had been a protracted onewith a corresponding fervency of gratitude for release; and at sixo'clock that night the attentive porter handed her down the steps tothe platform of the beautiful Union Station in Washington.
She had only her light traveling bag to carry, so she followed thecrowd through the gates, walking slowly and scanning the facesanxiously in order that she might not pass her uncle. She did notwish to go through the station out on the plaza, lest she make itmore difficult for him to find her, and she was keenly disappointedthat he had not been at the gate, for the train was half an hour lateand she had confidently expected him to be waiting. She took up herstand near the door of the waiting room and scanned the eddyingcircles of travelers that passed and repassed her.
"Something must have delayed him," she thought uneasily. "Hecouldn't miss me even in a crowd, because he is so careful. I hope hegot the telegram."
She had turned to compare her wrist-watch with the station clockwhen a voice at her back said half-doubtfully, "Betty?"