feelings toward him yet.
“Um…” She gulped, thinking hard and trying to answer his questions. “I’m just a normal girl. Born in the country, raised on a farm. I didn’t do very good at school, but I tried hard.” She smiled in reminiscence. “I milked the cows every day and used to earn money sometimes by babysitting or selling lemonade or cookies. I always loved to cook. I learned from my mother and grandmother.”
Because Betty was used to cooking, she didn’t think of it as a great skill. She felt almost as though she’d been born knowing how. Now, she realized this wasn’t true. I learned from my mother and grandmother.
He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “Why did you decide to become a secretary?”
“Oh, I always wanted to be one. I don’t know why. It sounded like such fun, working at an office, making things neat and tidy, and making those machines type down all the words somebody else was saying.” She turned away from him briefly. “Well, it turns out I’m not that good at it, and it’s not quite what I thought…but I’m glad I got the chance to try. I’d saved some money from my bake sales, and babysitting, and then I got the chance to go to school here in the city.” She turned away from him with a faint smile, hoping to skip over and avoid mentioning the reason she’d decided to come in such a hurry. Maybe he didn’t need to know that; certainly she didn’t mean to volunteer it!
“But—”
“Oh by the way, Mr. Watterson, I finished your book!”
“You did?” He drew his brows up and his head tilted back in a look of surprise. “Which one?”
“Oh, the-the one about the grandma, and the stolen cake, with the diamonds in it!”
“The—” For an instant he looked puzzled, and then his face cleared. “The Missing Mustang. Yes.”
“I thought that was really clever!”
“Why, thank you.” A slow smile spread across his face.
“I’d never have thought of all that stuff. It was really inventive. And I never guessed the ending! To be honest, I thought the mailman did it.” She laughed self-consciously at her own silliness. “But it all made sense when you wrote it out.”
He reached up and scratched at his chin. “Thank you, Betty. That means a lot.”
“What are you going to be wearing for the party?” asked Betty, changing subjects suddenly.
He hesitated. “ Er, a good suit. Why?” He looked like he wanted to talk about his story more, and she made a mental note to return to the subject and not let her attention flit around from subject to subject quite so much.
She thought of the dresses she had back at her apartment: the gingham one, the professional-looking brown one for work, and the spring-like dress she had originally worn when she first met Mr. Watterson. He was sure to show her up unless his “good suit” was ratty and second-hand. She couldn’t imagine looking fit to go to a party with him in any of those dresses.
She glanced at him. “It’s just I don’t want to be under-dressed, but I don’t have anything really fancy to wear.”
“Well, we could fix that,” said Jake, looking faintly pleased. He turned and led her back toward the street.
“Where are we going?”
“To buy you a nice party dress. I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”
“Oh! But— I couldn’t let you!”
“Why not?” He kept walking, his hand gently on her elbow, leading her.
“I— you pay me too much already! I…couldn’t let you…pay for…a dress!”
“Oh?” said Jake. He looked at her, and his eyes snapped with good humor and friendliness. His gaze took the breath right out of her, left her gasping inwardly, and made her lose her train of thought.
Jake smiled. “It’s my fault you’re coming to the party, so I may as well pay for the extra clothing you need to buy to attend it. That’s only fair, isn’t it? By the way, I can’t let you keep calling me Mr. Watterson. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” said Betty rather
“Um…” She gulped, thinking hard and trying to answer his questions. “I’m just a normal girl. Born in the country, raised on a farm. I didn’t do very good at school, but I tried hard.” She smiled in reminiscence. “I milked the cows every day and used to earn money sometimes by babysitting or selling lemonade or cookies. I always loved to cook. I learned from my mother and grandmother.”
Because Betty was used to cooking, she didn’t think of it as a great skill. She felt almost as though she’d been born knowing how. Now, she realized this wasn’t true. I learned from my mother and grandmother.
He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “Why did you decide to become a secretary?”
“Oh, I always wanted to be one. I don’t know why. It sounded like such fun, working at an office, making things neat and tidy, and making those machines type down all the words somebody else was saying.” She turned away from him briefly. “Well, it turns out I’m not that good at it, and it’s not quite what I thought…but I’m glad I got the chance to try. I’d saved some money from my bake sales, and babysitting, and then I got the chance to go to school here in the city.” She turned away from him with a faint smile, hoping to skip over and avoid mentioning the reason she’d decided to come in such a hurry. Maybe he didn’t need to know that; certainly she didn’t mean to volunteer it!
“But—”
“Oh by the way, Mr. Watterson, I finished your book!”
“You did?” He drew his brows up and his head tilted back in a look of surprise. “Which one?”
“Oh, the-the one about the grandma, and the stolen cake, with the diamonds in it!”
“The—” For an instant he looked puzzled, and then his face cleared. “The Missing Mustang. Yes.”
“I thought that was really clever!”
“Why, thank you.” A slow smile spread across his face.
“I’d never have thought of all that stuff. It was really inventive. And I never guessed the ending! To be honest, I thought the mailman did it.” She laughed self-consciously at her own silliness. “But it all made sense when you wrote it out.”
He reached up and scratched at his chin. “Thank you, Betty. That means a lot.”
“What are you going to be wearing for the party?” asked Betty, changing subjects suddenly.
He hesitated. “ Er, a good suit. Why?” He looked like he wanted to talk about his story more, and she made a mental note to return to the subject and not let her attention flit around from subject to subject quite so much.
She thought of the dresses she had back at her apartment: the gingham one, the professional-looking brown one for work, and the spring-like dress she had originally worn when she first met Mr. Watterson. He was sure to show her up unless his “good suit” was ratty and second-hand. She couldn’t imagine looking fit to go to a party with him in any of those dresses.
She glanced at him. “It’s just I don’t want to be under-dressed, but I don’t have anything really fancy to wear.”
“Well, we could fix that,” said Jake, looking faintly pleased. He turned and led her back toward the street.
“Where are we going?”
“To buy you a nice party dress. I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”
“Oh! But— I couldn’t let you!”
“Why not?” He kept walking, his hand gently on her elbow, leading her.
“I— you pay me too much already! I…couldn’t let you…pay for…a dress!”
“Oh?” said Jake. He looked at her, and his eyes snapped with good humor and friendliness. His gaze took the breath right out of her, left her gasping inwardly, and made her lose her train of thought.
Jake smiled. “It’s my fault you’re coming to the party, so I may as well pay for the extra clothing you need to buy to attend it. That’s only fair, isn’t it? By the way, I can’t let you keep calling me Mr. Watterson. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” said Betty rather
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