As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a big white-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set foot on it, but with little Molly’s hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed to say she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show how easy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and then—oh, don’t you wish Aunt Frances could have been there!—Betsy shut her teeth together hard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As a matter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, having done it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. But nobody knew this, Molly least of all. Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dipped the pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellen took a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without looking up. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment, much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, “Do you like dolls with yellow hair the best?” Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on this point which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didn’t REALLY care about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her little niece. “No, I DON’T!” answered the little girl emphatically. “I get just sick and tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! I like them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!” Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. “Oh, so do I!” she said. “And that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will you let me play with her some time?” “My folks?” said Elizabeth Ann blankly. “Why yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry.” “Have they got a DOLL?” said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax of Putney queerness. “Oh my, yes!” said Molly, eagerly. “She’s the one Mrs. Putney had when she was a little girl. And she’s got the loveliest clothes! She’s in the hair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down once when I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a little girl had come there to live, they’d let her have her down all the time. I’ll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mine’s got yellow hair, but she’s real pretty anyhow. If Father’s going to mill that day, he can leave me there for the morning.” [Illustration with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and started across.] Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, but just then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helping Elizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before.