Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher (iphone ebook reader .TXT) đ
- Author: Dorothy Canfield Fisher
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learned to read her teachersâ faces very accurately, and she guessed by
their expression whether the answer she gave was the right one. And that
was the only way she could tell. You never heard of any other child who
did that, did you?
They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just her
luck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and of
course right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8. She never
knew that one! She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguely
that it was somewhere in the fifties. Ralph burst out scornfully, â56!â
and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off,
pounced on him with 9 x 8. He answered, without drawing breath, 72.
Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy. Ellen, too, rose to the
occasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimes
remember and sometimes not. And then, oh horrors! It was her turn again!
Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mental
arithmetic lesson. She was so startled by the swiftness with which the
question went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly.
And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a
108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x
12. Good gracious! Who could have guessed, from the way they read, they
could do their tables like this! She herself missed on 7 x 7 and was
ready to cry. After this the teacher didnât call on her at all, but
showered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back with
sickening speed.
After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, âWell, Betsy, you were right
about your arithmetic. I guess youâd better recite with Eliza for a
while. Sheâs doing second-grade work. I shouldnât be surprised if, after
a good review with her, youâd be able to go on with the third-grade
work.â
Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open. She felt
really dizzy. What crazy things the teacher said! She felt as though she
was being pulled limb from limb.
âWhatâs the matter?â asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered fact.
âWhyâwhy,â said Elizabeth Ann, âI donât know what I am at all. If Iâm
second-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-grade
spelling, what grade AM I?â
The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase. âYOU arenât any grade at
all, no matter where you are in school. Youâre just yourself, arenât
you? What difference does it make what grade youâre in! And whatâs the
use of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because you
donât know your multiplication table?â
âWell, for goodnessâ SAKES!â ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very much
as though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head.
âWhy, whatâs the matter?â asked the teacher again.
This time Elizabeth Ann didnât answer, because she herself didnât know
what the matter was. But I do, and Iâll tell you. The matter was that
never before had she known what she was doing in school. She had always
thought she was there to pass from one grade to another, and she was
ever so startled to get a little glimpse of the fact that she was there
to learn how to read and write and cipher and generally use her mind, so
she could take care of herself when she came to be grown up. Of course,
she didnât really know that till she did come to be grown up, but she
had her first dim notion of it in that moment, and it made her feel the
way you do when youâre learning to skate and somebody pulls away the
chair youâve been leaning on and says, âNow, go it alone!â
The teacher waited a minute, and then, when Elizabeth Ann didnât say
anything more, she rang a little bell. âRecess time,â she said, and as
the children marched out and began putting on their wraps she followed
them into the cloak-room, pulled on a warm, red cap and a red sweater,
and ran outdoors herself. âWhoâs on my side!â she called, and the
children came darting out after her. Elizabeth Ann had dreaded the first
recess time with the strange children, but she had no time to feel shy,
for in a twinkling she was on one end of a long rope with a lot of her
schoolmates, pulling with all her might against the teacher and two of
the big boys. Nobody had looked at her curiously, nobody had said
anything to her beyond a loud, âCome on, Betsy!â from Ralph, who was at
the head on their side.
They pulled and they pulled, digging their feet into the ground and
bracing themselves against the rocks which stuck up out of the
playground. Sometimes the teacherâs side yanked them along by quick
jerks, and then theyâd all set their feet hard when Ralph shouted out,
âNow, ALL TOGETHER!â and theyâd slowly drag the other side back. And all
the time everybody was shouting and yelling together with the
excitement. Betsy was screaming too, and when a wagon passing by stopped
and a big, broad-shouldered farmer jumped down laughing, put the end of
the rope over his shoulder, and just walked off with the whole lot of
them till he had pulled them clear off their feet, Elizabeth Ann found
herself rolling over and over with a breathless, squirming mass of
children, her shrill laughter rising even above the shouts of merriment
of the others. She laughed so she could hardly get up on her feet again,
it was such an unexpected ending to the con test.
The big farmer was laughing too. âYou ainât so smart as you THINK you
are, are you!â he jeered at them good-naturedly. Then he started,
yelling âWHOA there!â to his horses, which had begun to walk on. He had
to run after them with all his might, and just climbed into the back of
the wagon and grabbed the reins the very moment they broke into a trot.
The children laughed, and Ralph shouted after him, âHi, there, Uncle
Nate! Whoâs not so smart as he thinks he is, NOW!â He turned to the
little girls near him. âThey âmost got away from him THAT time!â he
said. âHeâs awful foolish about leaving them standing while heâs funning
or something. He thinks heâs awful funny, anyhow. Some day theyâll run
away on him and THEN whereâll he be?â
Elizabeth Ann was thinking to herself that this was one of the queerest
things that had happened to her even in this queer place. Never, why
never once, had any grown-up, passing the playground of the big brick
building, DREAMED of such a thing as stopping for a minute to play. They
never even looked at the children, any more than if they were in another
world. In fact she had felt the school was in another world.
âRalph, itâs your turn to get the water,â said the teacher, handing him
a pail. âWant to go along?â said Ralph gruffly to Ellen and Betsy. He
led the way and the little girls walked after him. Now that she was out
of a crowd Elizabeth Ann felt all her shyness come down on her like a
black cloud, drying up her mouth and turning her hands and feet cold as
ice. Into one of these cold hands she felt small, warm fingers slide.
She looked down and there was little Molly trotting by her side, turning
her blue eyes up trustfully. âTeacher says I can go with you if youâll
take care of me,â she said. âShe never lets us first-graders go without
somebody bigger to help us over the log.â
As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a big
white-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set foot on it,
but with little Mollyâs hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed to
say she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show how
easy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and thenâoh, donât you
wish Aunt Frances could have been there!âBetsy shut her teeth together
hard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As a
matter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, having
done it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. But
nobody knew this, Molly least of all.
Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dipped
the pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellen
took a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without looking
up. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment,
much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, âDo you like
dolls with yellow hair the best?â
Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on this
point which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didnât REALLY
care about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her little
niece.
âNo, I DONâT!â answered the little girl emphatically. âI get just sick
and tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! I
like them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!â
Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. âOh, so do I!â she said.
âAnd that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will you
let me play with her some time?â
âMy folks?â said Elizabeth Ann blankly.
âWhy yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry.â
âHave they got a DOLL?â said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax of
Putney queerness.
âOh my, yes!â said Molly, eagerly. âSheâs the one Mrs. Putney had when
she was a little girl. And sheâs got the loveliest clothes! Sheâs in the
hair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down once
when I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a little
girl had come there to live, theyâd let her have her down all the time.
Iâll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mineâs got yellow
hair, but sheâs real pretty anyhow. If Fatherâs going to mill that day,
he can leave me there for the morning.â
[Illustration with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and
started across.]
Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, but
just then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helping
Elizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before.
They ran along to the little building, and there Iâm going to leave
them, because I think Iâve told enough about their school for ONE while.
It was only a poor, rough, little district school anyway, that no
Superintendent of Schools would have looked at for a minute, except to
sniff.
IF YOU DONâT LIKE CONVERSATION IN A BOOK SKIP THIS CHAPTER!
Betsy opened the door and was greeted by her kitten, who ran to her,
purring and arching her back to be stroked.
âWell,â said Aunt Abigail, looking up from the pan of apples in her lap,
âI suppose youâre starved, arenât you? Get yourself a piece of bread and
butter, why donât you? and have one of these apples.â
As the little girl sat down by her, munching fast on this provender, she
asked: âWhat desk did you get?â
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