So I can’t tell you why Elizabeth Ann did not go back and cry and sob and say she couldn’t and she wouldn’t and she couldn’t, as she would certainly have done at Aunt Harriet’s. You remember that I could not even tell you why it was that, as the little fatherless and motherless girl lay in bed looking at Aunt Abigail’s old face, she should feel so comforted and protected that she must needs break out crying. No, all I can say is that it was because Aunt Abigail was Aunt Abigail. But perhaps it may occur to you that it’s rather a good idea to keep a sharp eye on your “personality,” whatever that is! It might be very handy, you know, to have a personality like Cousin Ann’s which sent Elizabeth Ann’s feet down the path; or perhaps you would prefer one like Aunt Abigail’s. Well, take your choice. You must not, of course, think for a moment that Elizabeth Ann had the slightest INTENTION of obeying Cousin Ann. No indeed! Nothing was farther from her mind as her feet carried her along the path and into the road. In her mind was nothing but rebellion and fear and anger and oh, such hurt feelings! She turned sick at the very thought of facing all the staring, curious faces in the playground turned on the new scholar as she had seen them at home! She would never, never do it! She would walk around all the afternoon, and then go back and tell Cousin Ann that she couldn’t! She would EXPLAIN to her how Aunt Frances never let her go out of doors without a loving hand to cling to. She would EXPLAIN to her how Aunt Frances always took care of her! ... it was easier to think about what she would say and do and explain, away from Cousin Ann, than it was to say and do it before those black eyes. Aunt Frances’s eyes were soft, light blue. Oh, how she wanted Aunt Frances to take care of her! Nobody cared a thing about her! Nobody UNDERSTOOD her but Aunt Frances! She wouldn’t go back at all to Putney Farm. She would just walk on and on till she was lost, and the night would come and she would lie down and freeze to death, and then wouldn’t Cousin Ann feel ... Someone called to her, “Isn’t this Betsy?” She looked up astonished. A young girl in a gingham dress and a white apron like those at Putney Farm stood in front of a tiny, square building, like a toy house. “Isn’t this Betsy?” asked the young girl again. “Your Cousin Ann said you were coming to school today and I’ve been looking out for you. But I saw you going right by, and I ran out to stop you.” “Why, where IS the school?” asked Betsy, staring around for a big brick, four-story building. The young girl laughed and held out her hand. “This is the school,” she said, “and I am the teacher, and you’d better come right in, for it’s time to begin.”