Now this was rather unwise of Aunt
Jane, for Betsy and the children did not get on. She was one of those
uncomfortable persons who refuse to understand how a little
conversation makes undressing so much less unpleasant. She was not
inclined to give Rudolf any information on the subject of sea
serpents, nor would she listen to Ann's remarks on how much more
fashionable hot-water bottles were than warming-pans. She had even no
sympathy for Peter when he wished to be considered a diver going down
to the bottom of the sea after gold, instead of a little boy being
bathed in a tin tub.
Betsy had a horrid way of scrubbing, being none too careful about soap
in people's eyes, and Peter came out dreadfully clean. Feeling that he
needed comforting of some sort, he looked about for Mittens and
discovered him at last, taking a much needed nap behind the sofa.
Squeezing the weary cat carefully under one arm, Peter began to climb
by the aid of a chair into the big bed. Betsy caught sight of him and
guessed his plan. Poor little Peter's hopes were dashed.
"No you don't, Master Peter," she snapped at him. "Ye don't take no
cats to bed with ye--not in this house!" And she grabbed Mittens away
very roughly, set him outside the door, and shut it with a bang. After
she had tucked the bedclothes firmly about the little boy, she turned
her attention to Rudolf and Ann, evidently thinking Peter was settled
for the night--which shows just how much Betsy knew about him.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25