Betsy and the Boys Page 2

  Soon all of the Wilson boys were calling Billy Puff. Billy thought this was much better than Cream Puff. After all, no one would know what it meant. Big strong things puffed. Like locomotives and the wolf that "huffed and puffed until he blew the house down."

  No, thought Billy, it isn't bad to be called Puff. In fact, he thought Puff Porter sounded more

  grown-up than Billy Porter. Lots of the big boys in the school had nicknames like Spike or Butch or Skinny.

  By the time Betsy and the Wilson boys went home, Billy was quite pleased with his new name.

  That night at dinner Billy said, "Daddy, did you know that I have a nickname?"

  "Is that so?" said Daddy. "What is it? Pud?"

  "No. It's Puff," replied Billy.

  "Puff! Why Puff?" asked Daddy.

  "Well, you know how big strong things puff, like locomotives and the wolf that huffed and puffed," said Billy, throwing out his chest. "That's me. Puff Porter."

  "Well, well," said his daddy. "Names are funny things."

  "Yes," said Billy. "Do you know what we call Betsy?"

  "Haven't an idea," said Mr. Porter.

  "We call her Pancake," said Billy; and he threw back his head and laughed. "Pancake! I named her that. I'll bet nobody ever had the name Pancake before."

  "Does sound a bit unusual," said Daddy. "Does Betsy mind being called Pancake?"

  "No," laughed Billy. "She thinks it's funny. Every time I call her that we just laugh and laugh. We always remember about slipping in the pancake batter."

  When Betsy reached home, Mother said, "Oh, Betsy, I have just heard that there is to be a new teacher at your school and she is to teach your class."

  "You did, Mother!" said Betsy. "What's her name?"

  Mother laughed. "Well, Betsy, she has a very unusual name. In fact, I have never known anyone with the same name."

  "What is it?" said Betsy.

  "Miss Pancake," replied Mother.

  Betsy fell into the nearest chair. She rocked from side to side, laughing. "Oh, Mother! You're just fooling. That's what Billy calls me—Pan-cake."

  Mother was laughing too. "No, Betsy, I'm not fooling. That really is her name."

  "But I'll never be able to call her Miss Pan-cake without laughing," said Betsy.

  "You will have to learn to say it without laughing, dear. You can't be rude to Miss Pancake."

  When Mother said the name, Betsy went off into gales of laughter. "Oh, just wait until I tell Billy," she gasped.

  The next morning Betsy was at Billy's house

  bright and early. When she told Billy the news about the new teacher, Billy didn't believe it.

  "You're just making that up," he said.

  "No, I am not," said Betsy. "It's her real name."

  "But I can't call her Miss Pancake," chortled Billy. "I'll laugh and laugh."

  "That's what I told Mother," said Betsy. "But Mother says that would be rude and that we will have to practice saying it until we can say it without laughing."

  The opening day of school was only five days off, so Betsy and Billy had to learn quickly to say Miss Pancake and keep their faces straight.

  Every morning when Betsy came downstairs to breakfast, her mother would say, "Good morning, Betsy," and Betsy would reply, "Good morning, Miss Pancake."

  The first two mornings she did very badly, for she laughed right in the middle of it.

  Over at Billy's house, Mrs. Porter was doing the same thing and Billy was trying to say, "Good morning, Miss Pancake," without exploding. But by the day school opened the children had reached the place where they could say it with only a smile.

  They wondered what Miss Pancake would look like. Betsy didn't think she would be pretty. Billy thought she would be tall and thin.

  When the children went into their classroom, there, at the front of the room, stood a roly-poly little person with short red curly hair and eyes that looked like black buttons. Betsy noticed that they were very shiny and that they looked very happy.

  When all of the children were seated, the teacher said in a voice that chuckled, "Now, boys and girls, I am going to tell you something that is going to make you laugh. I am going to tell you my name, and it is a very funny name. It's Miss Pancake."

  The children laughed and laughed and Miss Pancake laughed too. And when she laughed, she seemed to bounce up and down.

  Betsy knew, right then and there, that she was going to love Miss Pancake.

  It was a happy day and when the children said "Miss Pancake" and laughed, Miss Pancake laughed too.

  When school was over, Billy waited by his new teacher's desk until all of the children had gone. Then he said, "Miss Pancake, I've got a funny name too. They call me Puff. Puff Porter."

  "That is a funny name," said Miss Pancake, with her eyes twinkling. "Why do they call you Puff?"

  "Well," replied Billy, "it's a secret, but I'll tell you. It's really Cream Puff."

  And Miss Pancake and Billy both threw back their heads and laughed long and loud.

  3. Eenie, Meenie, Minie, and Mo

  At the close of the first day of school, Betsy thought of her old friend, Mr. Kilpatrick. He was the policeman who took the children across the wide avenue not very far from the school.

  Father had driven Betsy to school in the morning, so Betsy hadn't seen Mr. Kilpatrick. Now she skipped along, thinking how nice it would be to see him. When she turned the next corner, she would be able to see his bright red car parked at the curb.

  Sure enough, when Betsy turned the corner, there, away down the street, was Mr. Kilpatrick's car. As she got nearer, she could hear the sharp sound of his whistle. When she reached the corner, Mr. Kilpatrick was in the middle of the street directing the traffic. The moment he saw her his face broke into a big smile. As he came toward her he said, "Well, if it isn't Little Red Ribbons! Sure, it's good to see the little girl again."

  "Hello, Mr. Kilpatrick!" said Betsy. "How are you?"

  "I couldn't be better," replied Mr. Kilpatrick. "And how do you find yourself?"

  "Just fine," said Betsy. "What do you think, Mr. Kilpatrick? My new teacher's name is Miss Pancake."

  "Sure, I've been hearing about her," said Mr. Kilpatrick. "It's a good hearty name, isn't it? Goes right to your stomach."

  Betsy laughed as Mr. Kilpatrick walked across the street with her. "How is Mrs. Kilpatrick?" asked Betsy.

  "She's feeling quite smart," said the policeman. "She'll be asking after you when I get home. She's never forgotten you getting lost when you were back in the first grade."

  "That was funny, wasn't it?" said Betsy.

  "We have a new cat," said Mr. Kilpatrick. "We call her the Queen of Sheba. And what do you think she carried into the kitchen the other night?"

  "I don't know," said Betsy. "What?"

  Mr. Kilpatrick leaned over. "A kitten," he said. "Had it in her mouth. Then we found that she had three others. We've put them in a box in the laundry."

  "Oh, Mr. Kilpatrick!" cried Betsy. "I would love to see them."

  "Well, let's see," said Mr. Kilpatrick, looking at his watch. "My time is about up here. Suppose I drive you around to my house to see them. Then I can run you home."

  "That would be lovely," said Betsy.

  Mr. Kilpatrick helped Betsy into his red police car. He climbed into the driver's seat and they started off.

  "Well," said Mr. Kilpatrick, "how is your friend Billy these days? I didn't see him this morning."

  "No, Father drove us both to school this morning. Billy's all right. We had a lovely summer vacation. But do you know what, Mr. Kilpatrick?"

  "What?" asked Mr. Kilpatrick.

  "I don't think Billy is going to play with me very much now," said Betsy.

  "Sure and why not?" asked Mr. Kilpatrick.

  "Well, all he wants to do is play football with the Wilson boys," said Betsy.

  "What's stopping you from playing with them?" asked Mr. Kilpatrick.

  "Oh, they won't let me play," said Betsy
. "Rudy says girls can't play football."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Kilpatrick. "You'd be as good as the rest of them."

  "Well, they won't let me," sighed Betsy.

  "Who owns the football?" asked Mr. Kilpatrick.

  "Oh, the football!" laughed Betsy. "You should see it. It belongs to Rudy, but it's so old the air won't stay in it."

  Mr. Kilpatrick snorted. "Looks to me as though they wouldn't play much football until they get a ball," he said.

  "They talk a lot about getting a ball," said Betsy.

  "Sure, talk's cheap," said Mr. Kilpatrick.

  They drove another block in silence. Then Mr. Kilpatrick said, "I suppose if anyone were to bring out a football, they'd be glad to play with that one. Even if it was one with pigtails and red ribbons."

  "Maybe," said Betsy.

  And now the car stopped in front of Mr. Kilpatrick's house. Betsy jumped out and Mr. Kilpatrick opened the front gate for her. She walked up the path with its border of bright flowers. Mr. Kilpatrick opened the front door and called, "Hello, Katie!"

  Betsy heard Mrs. Kilpatrick's voice from upstairs. "I'm up here, Pat."

  "Well, come down," shouted Mr. Kilpatrick. "I've brought an old friend home with me."

  Betsy heard Mrs. Kilpatrick's heavy tread above, for the policeman's wife was a large lady. "Now who have you brought with you?" she said.

  Mrs. Kilpatrick was at the head of the stairs now. She peered down. "Land sakes!" she cried. "If it isn't the little girl that was lost back in the first grade. There was I, sweeping the pavement and she comes up to me, looking for all the world like a stray puppy." All of this Mrs. Kilpatrick said as she came lumbering down the stairs. "Well, it's good to see you again," she said. "Did Pat bring you to see the kittens?"

  "Yes," replied Betsy. "And the Queen of Sheba, too."

  "Well, come right out to the laundry," said Mrs. Kilpatrick.

  Betsy followed Mrs. Kilpatrick to the back of the house. In the doorway between the kitchen and the laundry sat the biggest and most beautiful cat Betsy had ever seen. It was the Queen of Sheba. She was coal black and her yellow eyes were like big amber beads.

  "She doesn't like you to touch her babies," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "Come on here, Queen of Sheba. You go outside for a while."

  Mrs. Kilpatrick opened the back door. The Queen of Sheba sat like a statue, looking at her.

  "Come on here; don't put on any of your haughty airs with me," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "Out with i" you!

  The Queen of Sheba didn't even blink.

  "Do you see that?" said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "Majestic, I calls it. Majestic."

  Mrs. Kilpatrick reached for her broom. "Now, Your Majesty, will you git? Or shall I help you?"

  The Queen of Sheba got. She got, majestically, out of the back door.

  "Now come look at the kittens," said Mrs. Kilpatrick, leading Betsy toward the box in the corner.

  "Oh!" cried Betsy. But Mrs. Kilpatrick interrupted. "Sakes alive!" she cried. "There's one of them missing! Now what did that cat do with that kitten?"

  Betsy went down on her knees beside the box. She looked down at the three furry little balls. "Aren't they sweet!" she said.

  "Sure, but where's the fourth one?" said Mrs. Kilpatrick, looking all around the laundry. "You know, the Queen's got a grudge against that kitten. That's the second time she's carried it off. Last time I found it in the coal bucket beside the fireplace."

  Mrs. Kilpatrick tramped into the front room. Betsy followed her to the coal bucket.

  "Well, she's not put it in the coal bucket this time," said Mrs. Kilpatrick.

  Betsy started to look under the furniture while Mrs. Kilpatrick picked up the sofa cushions.

  "What color is it?" asked Betsy.

  "It's a yellow one," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "The only one in the litter that wasn't like the mother. I declare, it's just as though the Queen didn't like the kitten because it's different from her and the rest of them."

  "Sort of an ugly duckling?" said Betsy.

  "That's it!" replied Mrs. Kilpatrick. "But you remember the ugly duckling turned out to be the beauty of the lot, and it's my opinion that this kitten will be the beauty, too. Now where do you suppose that cat hid that kitten?"

  Mrs. Kilpatrick's sewing basket was on a low stool. Betsy looked into the basket. It was filled with Mr. Kilpatrick's socks and shirts that needed mending. But curled up in the center of the basket was a round golden ball of soft fur. "Here it is!" cried Betsy.

  Mrs. Kilpatrick leaned over the basket. "Well, sure as faith! You've found it," she cried. Picking it up, she placed it in Betsy's arms.

  Betsy carried the kitten back to the laundry. "What have you named them?" she asked.

  "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?"

  4. It's a Secret