Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm | Page 8

eh? You'll have to take Mrs.
Arnold when you go shopping. I wouldn't know a bonnet from a pair of
gloves."
Betty laughed and slipped her hand into his, and they went toward the
dining room. What a dear Uncle Dick was! She had not had many new
clothes since her father's death.
CHAPTER IV
AT THE CROSSING
THE country hotel supper was no better than the average of its kind,
but to Betty, to whom any sort of change was "fun," it was delicious.
She and Uncle Dick became better acquainted over the simple meal in
the pleasant dining room than they could ever have hoped to have been
with Mrs. Arnold and the two boys present, and it was not until her
dessert was placed before her that Betty remembered her friend.

"Mrs. Arnold will think we're lost!" she exclaimed guiltily. "I meant to
telephone! And oh, Uncle Dick, she does hate to keep supper waiting."
Uncle Dick smiled.
"I telephoned the neighbor you told me about," he said reassuringly.
"She said she would send one of her children right over with the
message. That was while you were upstairs. So I imagine Mrs. Arnold
has George and Ted hard at work drying the dishes by this time."
"They don't dry the dishes, 'cause they're boys," explained Betty
dimpling. "In Pineville, the men and boys never think of helping with
the housework. Mother said once that was one reason she fell in love
with daddy--because he came out and helped her to do a pile of dishes
one awfully hot Sunday afternoon."
After supper Betty and her uncle walked about Harburton a bit, and
Betty glanced into the shop windows. She knew that probably her new
dresses, at least the material for them, would be bought here, and she
was counting more on the new frocks than even Uncle Dick knew.
When they went back to the hotel it was still light, but the horse was
ordered brought around, for they did not want to hurry on the drive
home.
"I guess I missed not belonging to any body," she said shyly, after a
long silence.
Uncle Dick glanced down at her understandingly.
"I've had that feeling, too," he confessed. "We all need a sense of
kinship, I think, Betty. Or a home. I haven't had either for years. Now
you and I will make it up to each other, my girl."
The darkness closed in on them, and Uncle Dick got out and lit the two
lamps on the dashboard and the little red danger light behind. Once or
twice a big automobile came glaring out of the road ahead and swept
past them with a roar and a rush, but the easy going horse refused to

change its steady trot. But presently, without warning, it stopped.
Uncle Dick slapped the reins smartly, with no result.
"He balks," said Betty apologetically. "I know this horse. The livery
stable man says he never balks on the way home, but I suppose he was
so good all the afternoon he just has to act up now."
"Balks!" exploded Uncle Dick. "Why, no stable should send out a horse
with that habit. Is there any special treatment he favors, Betty?" he
added ironically. Betty considered.
"Whipping him only makes him worse, they say," she answered. "He
puts his ears back and kicks. Once he kicked a buggy to pieces. I guess'
we'll have to get out and coax him, Uncle Dick."
Mr. Gordon snorted, but he climbed down and went to the horse's head.
"You stay where you are, Betty," he commanded. "I'm not going to
have you dancing all over this dark road and likely to be run down by a
car any minute simply to cater to the whim of a fool horse. You hold
the reins and if he once starts don't stop him; I'll catch the step as it
goes by."
Betty held the reins tensely and waited. There was no moon, and clouds
hid whatever light they
might have gained from the stars. It was distinctly eery to be out on the
dark road, miles from any house, with no noise save the incessant low
hum of the summer insects. Betty shivered slightly.
She could hear her uncle talking in a low tone to the dejected, drooping,
stubborn bay horse, and she could see the dim outline of his figure. The
rays of the buggy lamps showed her a tiny patch of the wheels and road,
but that was every bit she could see.
Up over the slight rise of ground before them shone a glare, followed in
a second by the headlights of a large touring car. Abreast of the buggy

it stopped.
"Tire trouble?" asked some one with a hint of laughter in the deep
strong