Betsy put her arms around her and gave her a great hug.  “I’ll always love you, Aunt Frances!” she said.

“You’ll love Mr. Plimpton, too.  He’s so big and strong, and he just loves to take care of people.  He says that’s why he’s marrying me.  Don’t you wonder where we are going to live?” she asked, answering her own question quickly.  “We’re not going to live anywhere.  Isn’t that a joke?  Mr. Plimpton’s business keeps him always moving around from one place to another, never more than a month anywhere.”

“What’ll Aunt Harriet do?” asked Betsy wonderingly.

“Why, she’s ever and ever so much better,” said Aunt Frances happily.  “And her own sister, my Aunt Rachel, has come back from China, where she’s been a missionary for ever so long, and the two old ladies are going to keep house together out in California, in the dearest little bungalow, all roses and honeysuckle.  But you’re going to be with me.  Won’t it be jolly fun, darling, to go traveling all about everywhere, and see new places all the time!”

Now those are the words Aunt Frances said, but something in her voice and her face suggested a faint possibility to Betsy that maybe Aunt Frances didn’t really think it would be such awfully jolly fun as her words said.  Her heart gave a big jump up, and she had to hold tight to the arm of the surrey before she could ask, in a quiet voice, “But, Aunt Frances, won’t I be awfully in your way, traveling around so?”

Now, Aunt Frances had ears of her own, and though that was what Betsy’s words said, what Aunt Frances heard was a suggestion that possibly Betsy wasn’t as crazy to leave Putney Farm as she had supposed of course she would be.

They both stopped talking for a moment and peered at each other through the thicket of words that held them apart.  I told you this was a very momentous conversation.  One sure thing is that the people on the back seat saw the inside of the surrey as they traveled along, and nothing else.  Red sumac and bronzed beech-trees waved their flags at them in vain.  They kept their eyes fixed on each other intently, each in an agony of fear lest she hurt the other’s feelings.

After a pause Aunt Frances came to herself with a start, and said, affectionately putting her arm around Betsy, “Why, you darling, what does Aunt Frances care about trouble if her own dear baby-girl is happy?”

And Betsy said, resolutely, “Oh, you know, Aunt Frances, I’d love to be with you!” She ventured one more step through the thicket.  “But honestly, Aunt Frances, won’t it be a bother ... ?”

Aunt Frances ventured another step to meet her, “But dear little girls must be somewhere ...”

And Betsy almost forgot her caution and burst out, “But I could stay here!  I know they would keep me!”

Even Aunt Frances’s two veils could not hide the gleam of relief and hope that came into her pretty, thin, sweet face.  She summoned all her courage and stepped out into the clearing in the middle of the thicket, asking right out, boldly, “Why, do you like it here, Betsy?  Would you like to stay?”