Understood Betsy | Page 2

that it was their manifest duty to save the
dear little thing from the other relatives, who had no idea about how to
bring up a sensitive, impressionable child, and they were sure, from the
way Elizabeth Ann looked at six months, that she was going to be a
sensitive, impressionable child. It is possible also that they were a little
bored with their empty life in their rather forlorn, little brick house in
the medium-sized city, and that they welcomed the occupation and new
interests which a child would bring in.
But they thought that they chiefly desired to save dear Edward's child
from the other kin, especially from the Putney cousins, who had written
down from their Vermont farm that they would be glad to take the little

girl into their family. But "ANYTHING but the Putneys!" said Aunt
Harriet, a great many times. They were related only by marriage to her,
and she had her own opinion of them as a stiffnecked, cold-hearted,
undemonstrative, and hard set of New Englanders. "I boarded near
them one summer when you were a baby, Frances, and I shall never
forget the way they were treating some children visiting there! ... Oh,
no, I don't mean they abused them or beat them ... but such lack of
sympathy, such perfect indifference to the sacred sensitiveness of
child-life, such a starving of the child-heart ... No, I shall never forget it!
They had chores to do ... as though they had been hired men!"
Aunt Harriet never meant to say any of this when Elizabeth Ann could
hear, but the little girl's ears were as sharp as little girls' ears always are,
and long before she was nine she knew all about the opinion Aunt
Harriet had of the Putneys. She did not know, to be sure, what "chores"
were, but she took it confidently from Aunt Harriet's voice that they
were something very, very dreadful.
There was certainly neither coldness nor hardness in the way Aunt
Harriet and Aunt Frances treated Elizabeth Ann. They had really given
themselves up to the new responsibility, especially Aunt Frances, who
was very conscientious about everything. As soon as the baby came
there to live, Aunt Frances stopped reading novels and magazines, and
re-read one book after another which told her how to bring up children.
And she joined a Mothers' Club which met once a week. And she took
a correspondence course in mothercraft from a school in Chicago
which teaches that business by mail. So you can see that by the time
Elizabeth Ann was nine years old Aunt Frances must have known all
that anybody can know about how to bring up children. And Elizabeth
Ann got the benefit of it all.
She and her Aunt Frances were simply inseparable. Aunt Frances
shared in all Elizabeth Ann's doings and even in all her thoughts. She
was especially anxious to share all the little girl's thoughts, because she
felt that the trouble with most children is that they are not understood,
and she was determined that she would thoroughly understand
Elizabeth Ann down to the bottom of her little mind. Aunt Frances

(down in the bottom of her own mind) thought that her mother had
never REALLY understood her, and she meant to do better by
Elizabeth Ann. She also loved the little girl with all her heart, and
longed, above everything in the world, to protect her from all harm and
to keep her happy and strong and well.
And yet Elizabeth Ann was neither very strong nor well. And as to her
being happy, you can judge for yourself when you have read all this
story. She was very small for her age, with a rather pale face and big
dark eyes which had in them a frightened, wistful expression that went
to Aunt Frances's tender heart and made her ache to take care of
Elizabeth Ann better and better.
Aunt Frances was afraid of a great many things herself, and she knew
how to sympathize with timidity. She was always quick to reassure the
little girl with all her might and main whenever there was anything to
fear. When they were out walking (Aunt Frances took her out for a
walk up one block and down another every single day, no matter how
tired the music lessons had made her), the aunt's eyes were always on
the alert to avoid anything which might frighten Elizabeth Ann. If a big
dog trotted by, Aunt Frances always said, hastily: "There, there, dear!
That's a NICE doggie, I'm sure. I don't believe he ever bites little
girls. ... MERCY! Elizabeth Ann, don't go near him! ... Here, darling,
just get on the other side of Aunt Frances if he scares you so" (by that
time