After a while, in the dark night which arithmetic had always been to her, Betsy began to make out a few definite outlines, which were always there, facts which she knew to be so without guessing from the expression of her teacher’s face.  From that moment her progress had been rapid, one sure fact hooking itself on to another, and another one on to that.  She attacked a page of problems now with a zest and self-confidence which made her arithmetic lessons among the most interesting hours at school.  On that day she was standing up at the board, a piece of chalk in her hand, chewing her tongue and thinking hard how to find out the amount of wall-paper needed for a room 12 feet square with two doors and two windows in it, when her eye fell on little ’Lias, bent over his reading book.  She forgot her arithmetic, she forgot where she was.  She stared and stared, till Ellen, catching the direction of her eyes, looked and stared too.  Little ’Lias was clean, preternaturally, almost wetly clean.  His face was clean and shining, his ears shone pink and fair, his hands were absolutely spotless, even his hay-colored hair was clean and, still damp, brushed flatly back till it shone in the sun.  Betsy blinked her eyes a great many times, thinking she must be dreaming, but every time she opened them there was ’Lias, looking white and polished like a new willow whistle.

Somebody poked her hard in the ribs.  She started and, turning, saw Ralph, who was doing a sum beside her on the board, scowling at her under his black brows.  “Quit gawking at ’Lias,” he said under his breath.  “You make me tired!” Something conscious and shame-faced in his manner made Betsy understand at once what had happened.  Ralph had taken ‘Lias down to the little boys’ wading-place and had washed him all over.  She remembered now that they had a piece of yellow soap there.

Her face broke into a radiant smile and she began to say something to Ralph about how nice that was of him, but he frowned again and said, crossly, “Aw, cut it out!  Look at what you’ve done there!  If I couldn’t 9 x 8 and get it right!”

“How queer boys are!” thought Betsy, erasing her mistake and putting down the right answer.  But she did not try to speak to Ralph again about ’Lias, not even after school, when she saw ’Lias going home with a new cap on his head which she recognized as Ralph’s.  She just looked at Ralph’s bare head, and smiled her eyes at him, keeping the rest of her face sober, the way Cousin Ann did.  For just a minute Ralph almost smiled back.  At least he looked quite friendly.  They stepped along toward home together, the first time Ralph had ever condescended to walk beside a girl.

“We got a new colt,” he said.

“Have you?” she said.  “What color?”

“Black, with a white star, and they’re going to let me ride him when he’s old enough.”

“My!  Won’t that be nice!” said Betsy.

And all the time they were both thinking of little ’Lias with his new clothes and his sweet, thin face shining with cleanliness.