{"id":5727,"date":"2023-08-14T00:01:31","date_gmt":"2023-08-14T04:01:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sawpublishing.com\/?p=5727"},"modified":"2023-08-11T11:20:03","modified_gmt":"2023-08-11T15:20:03","slug":"betty-bonnet-august-1915","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sawpublishing.com\/betty-bonnet-august-1915\/","title":{"rendered":"Betty Bonnet August 1915"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"InBetty Bonnet is an ongoing serial story, released on the Sheep Among Wolves blog once a month. It follows the adventures of the Bonnet family, first created by Sheila Young as a paper doll series released in the Ladies\u2019 Home Journal beginning 1915. To go to the first episode,\u00a0click here<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

I.<\/p>\n

All this time, during which Betty and Bob had been making exciting\u2014if disconcerting\u2014discoveries about the corruptibility of human nature, I myself had been very busy.<\/p>\n

There are people who look at you disapprovingly, when you mention that you have been very busy lying in a steamer chair at a seaside watering place contemplating the colour of the sand, and the shape of the clouds, and the boundless depths of a summer sky.<\/p>\n

There is some sort of general prejudice against putting the sluggish tranquility of the dog days to the purpose for which they were so obviously intended\u2014that of recruiting tired bodies (not to say tired brains) and laying in a stock of fresh, unsullied resources for the business of life.<\/p>\n

Just because an August afternoon is too hot to do anything but lie still and doze, it has always been my principle to take it at face value, and accept graciously the permission to do just that.<\/p>\n

All this I said\u2014in one form or another\u2014to Betty and Bob, when I came home from the seaside. I pointed out that the thermometer stood at a number which I didn\u2019t like to mention, out of respect for its feelings. I drew their attention to the fact that the sun was glaring at an angle I didn\u2019t like to mention, out of respect for mine.<\/p>\n

It was all no good.<\/p>\n

Betty and Bob were bent, with Livingstonian enterprise, on pressing through that wilderness of heat, to the Foster Street mission.<\/p>\n

II.<\/h6>\n

\u201cAnd Mamma said we mustn\u2019t go by ourselves,\u201d Betty explained to me, pleadingly.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh!\u201d I reflected, with an uneasy glance at the meagre shadows in the sundrenched garden. \u201cOne must always obey one\u2019s mother. If she says you mustn\u2019t go\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMustn\u2019t go by ourselves<\/em>,\u201d Betty corrected, with exasperating exactitude.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re quite sure?\u201d I inquired limply.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course. And she can\u2019t take us, because she\u2019s gone to Aunt Julia\u2019s garden party. And Birdie can\u2019t take us, because she\u2019s playing in a tennis match\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought Birdie wasn\u2019t playing tennis this summer?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, it\u2019s a charity match. Of course, that isn\u2019t the same thing at all. And then Belle won\u2019t take us, because it\u2019s too hot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is<\/em> too hot,\u201d I agreed, lying back on the sofa. \u201cYour sister Belle is the sensible member of the family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we\u2019ve got<\/em> to go today,\u201d persevered Betty. \u201cAnd it isn\u2019t much<\/em> hotter in the street, than it is in the drawing room. And\u2014and\u2014you can always buy us an ice cream on the way home. And then it won\u2019t feel hot at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was obviously no help for it.<\/p>\n

I surrendered.<\/p>\n

\"InIII.<\/h6>\n

\u201cIt isn\u2019t just for nothing,\u201d Betty explained, as we crossed the pavement onto Foster Street.<\/p>\n

This was a reflection to bolster one\u2019s courage.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou see, Miss Burton,\u201d Betty stood on tiptoe, to bring her lips into as close proximity with my ear as the relative limitations of the case would allow. \u201cWe\u2019ve found out that the Foster Street mission\u2014has a thief!!!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Being already acquainted with the general object of the Foster Street mission, I was more surprised to hear the thief put in the singular, than to be informed of his existence.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the reason they need a mission, I suppose. To prevent bullying, and pickpocketing, and all sorts of petty crime.\u201d<\/p>\n

Betty raised reproachful eyes to mine. \u201cThey need a mission,\u201d she informed me reprovingly, \u201cbecause they don\u2019t know about Jesus! And they would need one, even if they weren\u2019t bullies or pickpocketers at all!\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a deep enough truth in this that I felt genuinely rebuked.<\/p>\n

IV.<\/h6>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s much worse than pocket picking, though,\u201d Bob informed me gloomily. \u201cAt least, I suppose she picked it out of my pocket, because that\u2019s where it was. But it\u2019s much more serious than petty crime. It was a valuable scientific instrument!\u201d<\/p>\n

I began to feel slightly uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

Convoying the children down to Foster Street was one thing.<\/p>\n

Becoming suddenly embroiled in a fight over scientific instruments and accused thieves was another.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think the most sensible thing you could do, would be to lay the whole thing before Miss Proctor,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe are going to,\u201d Bob informed me grimly.<\/p>\n

It ought to have been reassuring.<\/p>\n

The words themselves were reassuring.<\/p>\n

The tone in which Bob said them was not.<\/p>\n

V.<\/h6>\n

I looked about me uneasily, in hopes of an unsuspected ice cream parlour materializing out of the dilapidated rows of dingy shops and slip-shod tenement buildings.<\/p>\n

If we ate enough ice cream, it might be too late to disturb the mission secretary that afternoon. We could all go home again cheerfully, to our outrageously spoiled tea. And tomorrow morning, Mrs. Bonnet, or Birdie, or Belle, or somebody else who was genuinely responsible for this mess, could take the children down to say whatever they needed to say to Miss Proctor.<\/p>\n

Sadly, the only thing that saw fit to materialize was the door of the Foster Street mission.<\/p>\n

Bob opened it. And we went in.<\/p>\n

Miss Proctor was in her office, at her desk.<\/p>\n

Even Bob flushed a little nervously when he saw her.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe awkward thing about being a thief,\u201d he observed in an undertone to Betty, \u201cis that it\u2019s so awkward for everybody else, when they have to talk about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Betty, however, was unmoved by the awkwardness. \u201cGood afternoon, Miss Proctor,\u201d she observed undauntedly.<\/p>\n

Miss Proctor looked up and smiled. \u201cGood afternoon, my dears. I didn\u2019t expect to see you, today.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bob glowered reprovingly at this innuendo of a guilty conscience.<\/p>\n

Miss Proctor, with either great boldness or great simplicity, did not seem to comprehend to what the glare alluded.<\/p>\n

VI.<\/h6>\n

\u201cWe have come here today,\u201d explained Betty impressively, \u201cto know whether you have got any mail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlenty,\u201d said Miss Proctor, still either feigning or achieving na\u00efve innocence.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe meant,\u201d interposed Bob, forcefully, \u201cdid you get a tract about thieves?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cA tract about thieves?\u201d repeated Miss Proctor. \u201cOh, yes. You mean the booklets that came on Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBooklets!\u201d said Bob, surprised in his turn. \u201cDid he find more than one of them, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Proctor glanced at him a little oddly. \u201cIt was a packet of fifty,\u201d she replied. \u201cWhat would be the good of a tract, if you didn\u2019t have enough for distribution?\u201d<\/p>\n

Bob looked a little indignant. \u201cI think that was rather wasteful,\u201d he remarked. \u201cWhen the clergyman knew<\/em> we only wanted it for one<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNever mind that,\u201d went on Betty, a little breathlessly. \u201cYou did read it, Miss Proctor, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRead it?\u201d repeated Miss Proctor, putting up her silver-rimmed spectacles.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe tract!\u201d Betty gasped out impatiently. \u201cYou did read the tract, Miss Proctor, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

VII.<\/h6>\n

\u201cMy dear little girl,\u201d said Miss Proctor kindly. \u201cThe packet only came on Tuesday, and our outreach isn\u2019t until next Saturday. I mean to glance through the literature, before we distribute it, of course. Although the return address was that of a gentleman I know very well, and upon whose judgement I would unhesitatingly rely. But really, with the press of business we\u2019ve undergone of late, I have had so little time or leisure for anything\u2014 Which reminds me,\u201d Miss Proctor broke off suddenly, and turned towards her desk. \u201cI haven\u2019t had a moment to remember to give you this.\u201d<\/p>\n

She opened the very drawer upon which Bob\u2019s gaze had been resting broodingly since he first entered the room.<\/p>\n

She ruffled aside some papers. She drew out\u2014<\/p>\n

Yes, she actually drew out\u2014<\/p>\n

Sometime smooth, and round, and shining.<\/p>\n

Something with a peculiar dent on one side.<\/p>\n

Something which both Bob and Betty had known was in that drawer, but which neither of them\u2014after the disappointing revelation of Miss Proctor\u2019s lack of reading time\u2014had expected to see.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, Bob! It\u2019s your compass!\u201d Betty cried.<\/p>\n

VIII.<\/h6>\n

Miss Proctor smiled affably. \u201cI fancied it was. One of the street children picked it up, in the corridor, after you had been here\u2014oh, more than a month ago, it must have been. I was peculiarly please,\u201d Miss Proctor went on beamingly. \u201cIt was a little boy who was know, by many informants, to have been a notorious pickpocket, in days past. He had seemed genuinely touched by the spirit of the teaching here, and had made many protestations of reform. But until I observed him, unseen through my partially-open door, pick up the compass with one quick, dextrous, practiced movement; then stand perfectly still, as if the old instincts were warring with the new convictions; and at last turn resolutely to bring it straight to my office and candidly explain where and how he had found it\u2014until I had this real proof of his change of character, I hardly knew whether to trust that his conversion was indeed as genuine as it professed to be. But I have<\/em> seen. With the greatest possible satisfaction. And for that, young man,\u201d her gaze turned approvingly upon Bob, \u201cI am sincerely grateful for the accidental loan of your compass.\u201d<\/p>\n

Neither Bob nor Betty was equal to a reply.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now, what can I do for you today?\u201d inquired Miss Proctor in a friendly tone.<\/p>\n

Betty looked at Bob.<\/p>\n

Bob looked at Betty.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps,\u201d said I, \u201cyou would care to come up town and have some ice cream, with the rest of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

(To be continued.)<\/em><\/p>\n

Don’t miss Betty’s previous adventure:<\/p>\n

\"Betty<\/a><\/p>\n

You might also enjoy:<\/p>\n

\"Billy<\/a>

Billy has a plan to save Betty\u2019s beloved doll, but will he win the day before Easter? Find out in this episode of the Betty Bonnet serial story.<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Springtime<\/a>

Springtime in Surrey, the first collection releasing with Wild Blue Wonder Press, is a Christian anthology featuring eight lovely stories. With a mix of historical and contemporary, romance and women\u2019s fiction, a dash of mystery here and there, real-life themes presented in a loving way, and a vintage feel, this story is sure to charm lovers of Christian women\u2019s fiction.<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\u201cAre<\/a>

\u201cAre you writing another book?\u201d It\u2019s a question I get asked all the time. But the answer ends up being so long that I rarely give it in full.<\/p><\/div>\n

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