"An' I will
try to be happy. Only--I want my boy, my little son--my baby--"
Meanwhile--
"Isn't she the dearest thing?" asked Amy of Betty as they went into the
kitchen to gather up the picnic baskets. "I'm getting so fond of her it
will just hurt like everything to have her go away."
"Go away? Oh, Amy!" cried the Little Captain in surprise, facing her as
though that possibility had not yet entered her mind.
"Why, yes," repeated Amy, astonished at Betty's amazement. "She's almost
well now, and, of course, she's too independent to want to stay here when
she's all right again. Why, Betty, what's the matter?"
For Betty had sunk down in one of the kitchen chairs and was regarding her
tragically.
"But, Amy, she mustn't go away," she argued weakly, knowing that she
really had no argument at all. "Why, I really can't imagine it! I--I never
thought--"
"Well, of course, none of us wants her to," Amy admitted, adding
reasonably: "But I really don't see how we're going to stop her if she
makes up her mind to go. Do you?"
Betty picked up one of the hampers and they walked slowly back through the
hall to the front porch.
"Why no, not exactly," she said thoughtfully, then added, with a sudden
gleam in her eyes: "Unless--unless--"
"Unless what?" queried Amy breathlessly.
"Oh, I don't know whether you'd call it an idea or just plain
foolishness," answered Betty, striving to speak carelessly.
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