Other editions of book Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm

"I do wish you'd wear a sunbonnet, Betty," said Mrs. Arnold, glancing up from her ironing board as Betty Gordon came into the kitchen. "You're getting old enough now to think a little about your complexion."Betty's brown eyes laughed over the rim of the glass of water she had drawn at the sink."I can't stand a sunbonnet," she declared vehemently, returning the glass to the nickel holder under the shelf. "I know just how a horse feels with blinders on. You know you wouldn't like it, Mrs. Arnold, if I pulled up half your onion sets in mistake for weeds because I couldn't see what I was doing."Mrs. Arnold shook her head over the white ruffle she was fluting with nervous, skillful fingers.....

CHAPTER I:WAITING FOR WORD"I do wish you'd wear a sunbonnet, Betty," said Mrs. Arnold, glancing up from her ironing board as Betty Gordon came into the kitchen. "You're getting old enough now to think a little about your complexion."Betty's brown eyes laughed over the rim of the glass of water she had drawn at the sink."I can't stand a sunbonnet," she declared vehemently, returning the glass to the nickel holder under the shelf. "I know just how a horse feels with blinders on. You know you wouldn't like it, Mrs. Arnold, if I pulled up half your onion sets in mistake for weeds because I couldn't see what I was doing."Mrs. Arnold shook her head over the white ruffle she was fluting with nervous, skillful fingers. "There's no call for you to go grubbing in that onion bed," she said. "I'd like you to have nice hands and not be burnt black as an Indian when your uncle comes. But then, nobody pays any attention to what I say."There was more truth in this statement than Mrs. Arnold herself suspected. She was one of these patient, anxious women who unconsciously nag every one about them and whose stream of complaint never rises above a constant murmur. Her family were so used to Mrs. Arnold's monotonous fault-finding that they rarely if ever knew what she was complaining about. They did not mean to be disrespectful, but they had fallen into the habit of not listening."Uncle' Dick won't mind if I'm as black as an Indian," said Betty confidently, spreading out her strong, little brown right hand and eyeing it critically. "With all the traveling he's done, I guess he's seen people more tanned than I am, You're sure there wasn't a letter this morning?""The young ones said there wasn't," returned Mrs. Arnold, changing her cool iron for a hot one, and testing it by holding it close to her flushed face. "But I don't know that Ted and George would know a letter if they saw it, their heads are so full of fishing.""I thought' Uncle Dick would write again," observed Betty wistfully. "But perhaps there wasn't time. He said he might come any day." "I don't know what he'll say," worried Mrs.Arnold, her eyes surveying the slender figure leaning against the sink. "Your not being in mourning will certainly seem queer to him. I hope you'll tell him Sally Pettit and I offered to make you black frocks."Betty smiled, her peculiarly vivid, rich smile. "Dear Mrs. Arnold!" she said, affection warm in her voice. "Of course I'll tell him. He will understand, and not blame you. And now I'm going to tackle those weeds."

The wagon was rattling down a narrow lane, for though the horse went at a snail's pace, every bolt and hinge in the wagon was loose and contributed its own measure of noise to their progress. Betty looked about her with interest. On either side of the lane lay rolling fertile fields—in the highest state of cultivation, had she known it. Bramble Farm was famed for its good crops, and whatever people said of its master, the charge of poor farming was never laid at his door. The lane turned abruptly into a neglected driveway, and this led them up to the kitchen door of the farmhouse."Never unlocks the front door 'cept for the minister or your funeral," whispered Bob in an aside to Betty, as the kitchen door opened and a tall, thin man came out."Took you long enough to get here," he greeted the two young people sourly. "Dinner's been over two hours and more. Hustle that trunk inside, you Bob, and put up the horse. Wapley and Lieson need you to help 'em set tomato plants."Betty had climbed down and stood helplessly beside the wagon. Mr. Peabody, for she judged the tall, thin man must be the owner of Bramble Farm, though he addressed no word directly to her and Bob was too evidently subdued to attempt any introduction, but swung on his heel and strode off in the direction of the barn. There was nothing for Betty to do but to follow Bob and her trunk into the house.The kitchen was hot and swarming with flies. There were no screens at the windows, and though the shades were drawn down, the pests easily found their way into the room."How do you do, Betty? I hope your trip was pleasant. Dinner's all put away, but it won't be long till supper time. I'm just trying to brush some of the flies out," and to Betty's surprise a thin flaccid hand was thrust into hers. Mrs. Peabody was carrying out her idea of a handshake.Betty stared in wonder at the lifeless creature who smiled wanly at her. What would Uncle Dick say if he saw Agatha Peabody now? Where were the long yellow braids and the blue eyes he had described? This woman, thin, absolutely colorless in face, voice and manner, dressed in a faded, cheap, blue calico wrapper—was this Uncle Dick's old school friend?"Perhaps you'd like to go upstairs to your room and lie down a while," Mrs. Peabody was saying. "I'll show you where you're to sleep. How did you leave your uncle, dear?"Betty answered dully that he was well. Her mind was too taken up with new impressions to know very clearly what was said to her."I'm sorry there aren't any screens," apologized her hostess. "But the flies aren't bad on this side of the house, and the mosquitoes only come when there's a marsh wind. You'll find water in the pitcher, and I laid out a clean towel for you. Do you want I should help you unpack your trunk?"Betty declined the offer with thanks, for she wanted to be alone. She had not noticed Mrs. Peabody's longing glance at the smart little trunk, but later she was to understand that that afternoon she had denied a real heart hunger for handling pretty clothes and the dainty accessories that women love.

Betty Gordon, a recently-orphaned girl, becomes the ward of her uncle, Dick Gordon. Betty loves Uncle Dick from the moment that she meets him, but he must travel on business. Uncle Dick arranges for Betty to spend the summer at Bramble Farm, where his old school friend, Agatha Peabody, lives with her husband. While Betty hates to be separated from her uncle, she fantasizes about the good times she will have at Bramble Farm. Betty finds that Bramble Farm is a very miserable place. Mr. Peabody is a mean old miser, and Mrs. Peabody is crushed in spirit and unable to speak up for herself. Mr. Peabody forces his wife and employees to eat skimpy meals. He refuses to allow his wife to make any decisions, and Mrs. Peabody is treated almost like a slave. The one bright spot is Betty's new friend, Bob Henderson, who is a poorhouse boy who lives on the farm. "Take your old butter!" she stormed at the astonished Mr. Peabody. Both Betty and Bob wish they could escape from Bramble Farm. Betty writes to her uncle and explains how miserable life at Bramble Farm is. While Betty awaits a response, she becomes acquainted with Dr. Guerin and his family. Betty considers running away, but the Guerin family convinces her that it would be best to wait for her uncle to reply to her letter.

Betty Gordon, a recently-orphaned girl, becomes the ward of her uncle, Dick Gordon. Betty loves Uncle Dick from the moment that she meets him, but he must travel on business. Uncle Dick arranges for Betty to spend the summer at Bramble Farm, where his old school friend, Agatha Peabody, lives with her husband. While Betty hates to be separated from her uncle, she fantasizes about the good times she will have at Bramble Farm. Betty finds that Bramble Farm is a very miserable place. Mr. Peabody is a mean old miser, and Mrs. Peabody is crushed in spirit and unable to speak up for herself. Mr. Peabody forces his wife and employees to eat skimpy meals. He refuses to allow his wife to make any decisions, and Mrs. Peabody is treated almost like a slave. The one bright spot is Betty's new friend, Bob Henderson, who is a poorhouse boy who lives on the farm. "Take your old butter!" she stormed at the astonished Mr. Peabody. Both Betty and Bob wish they could escape from Bramble Farm. Betty writes to her uncle and explains how miserable life at Bramble Farm is. While Betty awaits a response, she becomes acquainted with Dr. Guerin and his family. Betty considers running away, but the Guerin family convinces her that it would be best to wait for her uncle to reply to her letter.

Cupples & Leon Company [Published Date: 1990]. Hardcover, 212 pp. Nice black and white frontis-piece illustration by Thelma Gooch. Alice B. Emerson was a pseudonym used by the Stratemeyer Syndicate for the Betty Gordon and Ruth Fielding series of children's novels. In this tale, Betty Gordon, a recently-orphaned girl, becomes the ward of her uncle, Dick Gordon. Betty loves Uncle Dick from the moment that she meets him, but he must travel on business. Uncle Dick arranges for Betty to spend the summer at Bramble Farm, where his old school friend, Agatha Peabody, lives with her husband. While Betty hates to be separated from her uncle, she fantasizes about the good times she will have at Bramble Farm.Betty finds that Bramble Farm is a very miserable place. Mr. Peabody is a mean old miser, and Mrs. Peabody is crushed in spirit and unable to speak up for herself. Mr. Peabody forces his wife and employees to eat skimpy meals. He refuses to allow his wife to make any decisions, and Mrs. Peabody is treated almost like a slave. The one bright spot is Betty's new friend, Bob Henderson, who is a poorhouse boy who lives on the farm.

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