Betsy and the Boys (4 page)

"They're not named yet," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "Have you any ideas about names?"

Betsy was delighted. She loved naming things.

"Well," she said, "first of all, are they boys or girls?"

"Sure, I guess only time will tell," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "It's hard to tell when they're so young."

"Of course," said Betsy, "their mother being a Queen, they will be princes and princesses."

"Now I never thought of that," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "But of course you're right. Princesses and princes they are."

"It would be funny," said Betsy, "if you gave them girls' names, like Princess Mabel or Princess Katherine, and then they turned out to be boys. Prince Mabel or Prince Katherine would sound awfully funny."

Mrs. Kilpatrick and Betsy both laughed. "That's right," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "It would probably have a bad effect on their dispositions."

Betsy puckered up her brow and looked down at the kittens. She was still holding the yellow one. Finally she looked up at Mrs. Kilpatrick. "I know what!" she cried, and her eyes were shining. "We could call them Eenie, Meenie, Minie, and Mo. Then when they get bigger it won't make any difference whether they are Prince Eenie or Princess Eenie or Prince Meenie or Princess Meenie or Prince Minie or Princess Minie or Prince Mo or Princess Mo."

Mrs. Kilpatrick clapped her hands together. "Now that's what I call right smart," she said. "What do you want to call the one you are holding?"

Betsy looked at the kitten. "I think this one should be Eenie," she said. "And the black ones can be Meenie, Minie, and Mo."

"Well now, that's right elegant!" said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "And how would you like to have Eenie for your own kitten?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" exclaimed Betsy. "You mean I can take him home and keep him?"

"Certainly," said Mrs. Kilpatrick.

"Oh, I wonder if Thumpy would mind," said Betsy. "Thumpy is my cocker spaniel, you know."

"Well, Thumpy couldn't treat that kitten any worse than its own mother treats it," said Mrs. Kilpatrick.

"That's right," said Betsy. "I guess Thumpy would get used to it."

"Do you think your father and mother would have any objection to your having a kitten?" asked Mrs. Kilpatrick.

"Oh, no!" said Betsy. "Mother and Father said I could have one, if I could get a nice one. And this is a very nice one," she added, holding the kitten up. "I didn't expect to get a member of a royal family."

"Where do you suppose Pat got to?" said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "I forgot all about him."

"I think he went upstairs," said Betsy, as she followed Mrs. Kilpatrick back into the front room.

Mrs. Kilpatrick went to the foot of the stairs. "Pat!" she called. "Where are you?"

"I'm coming. Right away," Mr. Kilpatrick called back.

"He's probably rummaging," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "Loves to get up in the attic and rummage. Like as not he'll come downstairs with something I haven't seen in years."

Betsy sat down on a chair to wait for Mr. Kilpatrick. Soon she heard a door bang.

"Didn't I tell you?" said Mre. Kilpatrick. "He's been in the attic. Now watch if I didn't speak the truth. Sure as my name's Katie, he'll be carrying something under his arm, and like as not I'll have to carry it back again."

In a few moments Mr. Kilpatrick began descending the stairs. As Betsy looked up, she saw first his feet; then his legs; and then the part of Mr. Kilpatrick that his belt went 'round, and that was a very big part. When his arms came into view, Betsy saw to her amazement that under one arm Mr. Kilpatrick carried a football.

"Now, Little Red Ribbons," said Mr. Kilpatrick, when he got all the way downstairs. "I've a football here. Do you think, by any chance, it would be useful to you?"

Betsy's eyes were like dollars. "Oh, Mr. Kilpatrick!" she cried, jumping up. "Do you mean that you are giving it to me?"

"That was my idea," said Mr. Kilpatrick. "But you must be very canny about it."

"What do you mean, 'canny'?" asked Betsy.

"I mean you mustn't let the boys know that you've got a football until you're sure that they'll let you play. Let them worry a little bit about getting a football. In other words, 'keep it up your sleeve.'"

"It's awful big to go up my sleeve," said Betsy with a twinkle.

Mr. Kilpatrick laughed his great big laugh. "What I mean is, you must keep it all hidden. You mustn't let on to the boys that you have it."

"I know," said Betsy, laughing. "That will be fun, won't it?"

"I think it will be," said Mr. Kilpatrick; "quite a lot of fun. And now I'll wrap it up and take you home."

Betsy said good-bye to Mrs. Kilpatrick and thanked her for the kitten. Mr. Kilpatrick put her into the car. In her arms she held the kitten. The football, hidden away in a hatbox, sat on her lap.

On her way home Betsy said, "Thank you very much for the football, Mr. Kilpatrick."

And Mr. Kilpatrick said, "You're very welcome, little one. It was my boy's football many years ago. I've taken good care of it. He's in the Navy now. He'd be surprised to know that I gave his football to a little girl."

"Won't he mind?" asked Betsy.

"Sure, he won't mind a bit," said Mr. Kilpatrick. "He'll enjoy the joke on the boys."

Betsy looked up at Mr. Kilpatrick and her whole face twinkled. "Oh, Mr. Kilpatrick," she said, "won't Billy be surprised when he finds out that I have a football up my sleeve?"

When Betsy stepped out of Mr. Kilpatrick's red car, she heard Billy call, "Hiya, Betsy!" "Oh, dear! There's Billy," said Betsy to Mr. Kilpatrick. "He's on our side porch."

"Good thing we put that football in the hatbox," whispered Mr. Kilpatrick. "He'll never guess what it is."

Betsy giggled. "Wouldn't he be surprised if
he knew?" she whispered back. Aloud she said, "Thank you, Mr. Kilpatrick, for bringing me home."

By this time Billy had run out to the car. "Hello, Mr. Kilpatrick!" he cried. "Why did you have to bring Betsy home?"

Then he spied the kitten in Betsy's arms. "Oh, boy!" he cried. "Where did you get the swell kitten?" Billy's eyes were big and round.

"Mrs. Kilpatrick gave it to me. It's a royal prince or princess. We don't know which. But anyway its mother is the Queen of Sheba."

"Golly!" exclaimed Billy.

"Well, so long," called Mr. Kilpatrick as he started the car. "Careful of your hat, Betsy," he added with a grin.

"Good-bye, Mr. Kilpatrick," said Betsy. "Thanks for everything."

Billy followed Betsy into the house and out onto the porch. Betsy placed the hatbox on a chair and sat down with the kitten.

"What's the kitten's name?" asked Billy.

"Eenie," said Betsy.

"Eenie?" replied Billy. "That's a funny name."

"No, it's a good name," said Betsy. "'Cause if it's Eenie, it can be either a prince or a princess."

Billy stroked the kitten. "Gee! I wish I could have one. Are there any more?"

"Yes, there are Meenie, Minie, and Mo. But they are all black, like the Queen of Sheba," said Betsy, putting the kitten on the floor.

Billy sat down on the chair beside the hatbox. He looked at the kitten fondly. "Do you suppose Mrs. Kilpatrick would let me have one of them?" asked Billy, leaning his elbow on the box.

"I don't know," replied Betsy. "'Course I didn't ask for this kitten. Mrs. Kilpatrick offered it to me."

Billy began twiddling with the string on the box. "Guess it wouldn't be polite to ask for one, would it?" he said.

"Oh, no!" said Betsy, keeping her eye on the box.

"Maybe she would sell one," said Billy as his fingers took hold of the bow of the string.

"Well, maybe," said Betsy.

"But I haven't any money," said Billy, plucking at the bow. It made a drumming sound on the lid of the box.

"I thought you were going to play football this afternoon," said Betsy.

"The football has caloopsed," said Billy.

"What do you mean, 'caloopsed'?" asked Betsy.

"It's n.g.—no good. Collapsed, in plain English," replied Billy.

"Oh!" said Betsy.

"We have to find a way to buy a new one," said Billy, still plucking at the bow. "That's why I couldn't buy a kitten. I have to save my money for a football."

"Oh!" said Betsy. And just as she said it the bow on the hatbox came untied.

Betsy jumped up so suddenly that she startled Billy and he knocked the hatbox off the chair. It fell to the floor with a thud and rolled across the porch. Betsy's heart was in her mouth, but fortunately the lid stuck fast. Both of the children ran after the box but Betsy reached it first. She picked it up with her hand firmly against the lid and quickly tied the string in a knot.

"What's in the box?" asked Billy. "A new hat?"

"No," replied Betsy. "It isn't a new hat. I guess I'll take it upstairs."

Betsy picked up the box by the string. "You mind Eenie," she said, "until I come back."

"OK," Billy replied.

Betsy went into the house and started upstairs. She didn't notice that the bottom of the box had
cracked when it fell off the chair. When she reached the top of the stairs the bottom of the box suddenly gave way, and the football fell out. It struck the step and bounced, the crooked way all footballs bounce, hither and thither, all the way down the steps. Then, to Betsy's horror, it rolled into the living room. She could hear Billy's chair squeak as he jumped out of it. "Hey!" he cried. "What's the matter?" But just then Thumpy, Betsy's cocker spaniel, dashed through the living room and out on the porch. "Oh, golly-wops!" Betsy heard Billy cry. "Here, Thumpy, you leave that kitten alone."

By this time Betsy had reached the football, which had rolled almost to the porch door. As she dashed upstairs with it she could hear Billy yelling, "Thumpy, get down! Get down, Thumpy! Stop it, Thumpy!"

And Betsy thought, "Good old Thumpy!" as she stowed the football away in her closet.

When Betsy returned to the porch she found Billy holding the kitten as high as he could, out of Thumpy's reach. Thumpy was leaping up and down and throwing himself against Billy.

"Get down, Thumpy," said Betsy. "Down!"

Thumpy stopped leaping and stood with his
pink tongue hanging out and his tail wagging. Betsy took the kitten from Billy.

"He was going to fight it," said Billy.

"Don't be silly," said Betsy. "Thumpy wouldn't fight a kitten. He's just glad to see the kitten, that's all."

Betsy held the kitten down, so that Thumpy could see it. Thumpy let out pleased little barks.

"They're going to be good friends," said Betsy.

At this moment Lucy, the cook, appeared in the doorway. "I just come to see what was all the racket on the stairs," she said.

"Oh, the bottom fell out of my hatbox," replied Betsy.

"Sure made a lot of noise," said Lucy. "I thought you was playing ball where 'taint allowed."

"That's what I thought it sounded like too, Lucy," said Billy.

Just then Betsy's mother came in the front door with Betsy's little sister, Star. Betsy ran to meet them.

"Mother!" she called. "Come out on the porch and see my kitten. Mrs. Kilpatrick gave it to me."

"Why, Betsy!" exclaimed Mother. "How lovely of Mrs. Kilpatrick!
Come,
Star, let's see Betsy's kitty."