THE BOOK OF BETTY BARBER.
Lucy sat down under the tree, and looked very much as if she were going to cry.
The Major stopped his march to stare at her.
“Hullo,” he said, “what’s the matter with you?”
“She says that I am nonsense, that I ought only to have three verses, and that she’s sick of me,” said Lucy faintly.
“Oh, she does, does she?” said Major C, “then that only shows she doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Indeed it does,” said the Fraction, “sick of good little Lucy, and her rooks and horses and violets”
‘May I ask,” interrupted Miss Crimson Lake, who began to think that she was forgotten, “may I ask if anybody spoke to you?”
The Fraction was about to answer angrily, but the Major stopped him.
“The fact of the matter is,” he said, “this book of Betty Barber’s is nonsense, and it should be torn to pieces.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted the Fraction. ‘Tear it up, tear it up, I’ll help.”
He seized one cover, the Major grasped the other, and the Book of Betty Barber was nearly in two, when Lucy jumped up from the ground with a cry, and held up her hand.
“Don’t,” she said, “don’t. You mustn’t. She won’t like the book torn up. She does not think it is nonsense, or she would not have hidden it so carefully in this tree. She will be sorry if it is torn up. Please don’t tear it up.”
Thirteen-fourteenths dropped his half of the cover, but the Major still held on to his.
“It is all stuff and rubbish,” said the Major.
“It is nothing of the kind,” said Miss Crimson Lake, “it is sound good sense.”
“It is nonsense,” said the Fraction, leaning forward to seize the cover again. “The proper place for that book is Nonsense Land.”
“But don’t tear it up,” said Lucy, “please don’t.”
6
