Text Leveling System

Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown

RDQ:	1373	Max Word/Sent	60	Total Words	2821		Diff Words	871
Lex	810	Ave Word/.Sent	8	Hi Freq occurs	1942	68.8%	Hi freq	353	40.5%
AR	4.2	Long Sentences	6.1	Low Freq occurs	163	5.8%	Low freq	130	14.9%

THE MAPLE TREE
BETSY was sitting in the back-yard maple, high among spreading branches that were clothed in rich green except at their tips where they wore the
first gold of September. Three branches forked to make a seat, one of them even providing a prop for her back. To her right, within easy reach, was another smaller crotch into which a cigar box had been nailed. This was closed and showed on the cover a plump coquettish lady wearing a Spanish shawl.
From this lofty retreat Betsy had a splendid view. It did not look toward the Big Hill where she and her friends Tacy and Tib had had so many adventurous picnics. It looked toward the town. Strictly speaking, her leaf-framed vista was of rooftops going down Hill Street like steps. But Betsy knew whither those steps led.
Sitting in her maple, she was aware of the town, spread out below, of Front Street where the stores were, of streets lined with the houses of people she did not know, of the Opera House, the Melborn Hotel, the skeleton of the new Carnegie Library, and the High School that her sister Julia and Tacy's sister Katie now attended. She was aware of the river winding through its spacious valley and of a world, yet unexplored, lying beyond.
Lifting the lid of the cigar box, Betsy took out a small tab. let. It said on the cover, "Ray's Shoe Store. Wear Queen Quality Shoes." She took out a pencil, short and well tooth- marked, and chewed it thoughtfully. Then opening the tablet she wrote:
The Repentance o f Lady Clinton
by Betsy Warrington Ray Author of Her Secret Marriage, The Mystery of the Butternut Tree, A Tress of Golden Hair, Hardly More than a Child. Etc. Etc.
Chapter One Lord Patterson's Ball
She had progressed no further when a scratching sound; caused her to look down. A red ringleted head was rising toward her. The visitor was Tacy who lived across the street and had been her dear friend for many years. Seven, to be exact, for Betsy and Tacy had started to be friends at Betsy's fifth birthday party, and now they were both twelve.
Tacy paused on a limb just below.
"Is it all right for me to come up?" she asked.
The perch in the maple tree was Betsy's private office. Here she thought out stories and poems and wrote them down. Here she kept what she had written in the cigar box that her mother had given her and Tacy had helped her nail to its present place.
"Of course," said Betsy. "Why weren't you in school this afternoon? Why couldn't you come out to play?" "Something awful, something terrible has happened," Tacy said. She hoisted herself into a crotch near the one in which Betsy was sitting.
Tacy's large blue eyes swam with tears. Her lids were red, her freckled cheeks were wet. Betsy put her tablet and pencil Into the cigar box and closed the lid with the Spanish lady on it.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
Tacy wiped her eyes on a wet ball of handkerchief.
"You remember," she said, "Rena loaned me Lady Audley's Secret."
Betsy nodded.
"Well . . . papa found it." "What happened?"
Tacy's eyes overflowed.
"I had hidden it under the bed. And this noon while we were eating dinner, mamma told papa she thought there was a mousehole in our room, and papa went looking for it, and he found the book.
"He was furious, but he never dreamed it was mine. He marched down to the table and asked Mary whether she'd been reading it, and she said `no.' And he asked Celia, and she said `no.' And he asked Katie, and she said `no.' And then he came to me and I had to say `yes. "
Tacy began to sob.
"Papa said he was amazed and astounded. He said he thought he had brought us up to appreciate good literature. He said there was a set of Dickens in the house, and Shakespeare, and Father Finn, and how did a child of his happen to be reading trash? Then he went out to the kitchen range and lifted the lid and threw it in . . ."
"Tacy"
"Yes, he didi" wept Tacy. "And now what am I going to tell Rena?"
What, indeed!
Looking down from the maple, Betsy could see Rena contentedly stringing beans on the back doorstep, unconscious of her loss. Rena had come from a farm to help Mrs. Ray. She was young and good-matured, not like Tib's mother's hired girl, Matilda, who was old and cross. But even Rena got mad sometimes, and her paper-backed novels were her dearest treasures. She kept them locked in her trunk, and Betsy read them out loud to her evenings when Mr. and Mrs. Ray happened to be out-at their High Fly Whist Club or a lodge dance or prayer meeting. Prompted by the same instinct that had caused Tacy to hide Lady Audley's Secret under her bed, Betsy had never mentioned these readings to her father and mother. But she had told all the stories to Tacy and Tib and had even persuaded Rena to lend them the books. And now Lady Audley's Secret had perished in the flames!
"We'll have to buy her another one," said Betsy. "They have those paper-backed books at Cook's Book Store. I've seen them."
"But they cost a dime," answered Tacy through her tears. That was true. And a dime, ten cents, was hard to come by, especially when one could not tell for what one needed it. "We'll earn it," said Betsy stoutly.
"How?" asked Tacy. "Somehow. You'll see." "Betsy! Tacy!" came a voice from below.
"It's Tib," said Betsy. "Come on up," she called. And in half a minute a fluff of yellow hair rose into view. Tib swung herself lightly to a seat on a neighboring branch.
Tib had been friends with Betsy and Tacy almost as long as they had been friends with each other. She lived two blocks away on Pleasant Street in a large chocolate-colored house. Betsy's house faced Tacy's at the end of Hill Street. The town ended and the country began there, on a green tree-covered hill that made a beautiful playground for all the neighborhood children. There was hardly a day when Tib did not come to play with Betsy and Tacy.
She looked anxiously now at Tacy's tear-stained face. "What's the matter?" she asked.
"Tacy's father found Lady Audley's Secret under her bed." "And he threw it in the kitchen stove," said Tacy. "He said it was trash."
"Trash!" cried Betsy. "I'm trying to write books just like it."
Tib's round blue eyes grew rounder.
"What are you going to tell Rena?" she asked.
"We're not going to tell her anything," said Betsy, "until we have a dime to buy her another book."
"How are you going to get a dime?" asked Tib.
"We're going to earn it," said Betsy. "But we haven't quite decided how."
The screen door creaked, and they looked down to see Rena with the pan of beans under her arm going into the kitchen. At the same moment they saw something else. . . . Julia, with a boy beside her, walking up Hill Street.
Julia was fourteen. Her skirt came down to the tops of her shoes. A braid with a curl on the end hung down her back, past her slender, belted waist. She wore a big hat.
The boy, who wore the uniform of a military school, was carrying her books.
"It's a good thing," said Betsy sarcastically, "that she has Jerry to carry those heavy books."
"They'd break her back practically," said Tacy, "if she had to carry them herself."
"Look at him help her up the steps!" jeered Betsy. "It's too bad she's so weak."
"This going around with boys makes me sick," said Tacy. "I like Herbert Humphreys," said Tib.
It was just like Tib to like a boy and say so.
"Oh, if you have to have a boy around, it might as well be Herbert," said Betsy, who liked him too.
"He wears cute clothes," said Tacy, blushing.
Herbert Humphreys, who had come to Deep Valley from St. Paul, wore knickerbockers. The other boys in their grade wore plain short pants.
"Why does Jerry wear a uniform?" asked Tib, peering down.
"He goes away to school. To Cox Military. It hasn't opened yet. And every day he walks up to the high school to walk home with Julia. Silly!" Betsy gave a sniff. "But he's nice. I'll say that much. He's mighty nice to me. Always giving me money for candy . . . Tacy!" She broke off in a shout. "Money! A dime! Ten cents!"
"Of course," cried Tacy, a smile breaking over her face.
"What is it? What are you talking about?" asked Tib in bewilderment.
"We need money, don't we?" asked Betsy. "Well, here's our chance to earn some."
"But how?" demanded Tib, as Betsy swung downward. "By being nuisances," cried Tacy, following.
"Do you get paid for being nuisances?" "For not being nuisances."
"I don't understand."'
Betsy hung to a limb to explain.
"Jerry likes to talk to Julia without us sticking around. So sometimes he gives us money to go to the store for candy." "Oh," said Tib, and slid nimbly to the ground.
Down on the ground, Tib did not look to be ten, much less her actual age of twelve. She was dainty and small. With her short yellow hair, round eyes and rosebud mouth, she looked like a doll. She wore a long-waisted pink lawn dress and a pink bow in her hair. Betsy and Tacy wore sailor suits.
Betsy was not so tall as Tacy but she was taller than she had been at ten. She wore her brown braids crossed in back and tied with perky ribbons which somehow matched her perky smiling face.
Tacy was slim and long of limb. Her face was still crowded with freckles, but they didn't matter when she shook back her curls and looked out shyly with blue Irish eyes.
All three were barefoot.
Single file they padded softly around the corner of the yellow cottage. A vine was turning red over the small front porch. Julia sat in the hammock there and Jerry sat on the
railing staring into her slim wistful face.
"Why does he look at her like that? She's only Julia," Tacy whispered.
"Don't ask me," answered Betsy in disgust. "Why does Julia look so sad?" asked Tib.
"She's just putting that look on. Thinks it's pretty," Betsy' said. Scornfully she led the way to the porch.
Jerry turned around and smiled. He had a friendly, toothy smile in a brown pleasant face.
"Hello, kids," he said.
"Hello, children," said Julia languidly.
"Kids! Children!" said Betsy, not quite under her breath. "Hello," said Tacy.
"Hello," said Tib.
They sat down in a row on the steps.
Conversation on the porch lagged. Julia unpinned her hat and fluffed her dark pompadour. She wore a big bow on the top of her head and another at the top of her braid.
"Remember, Jerry," she said at last, "you promised to help me with my algebra."
"Glad to," Jerry said.
"Betsy," said Julia. "I think mamma is looking for you." "She can't be," said Betsy. "She's taken Margaret down town to get an English bob."
"Maybe Rena is looking for you then," said Julia pointedly.
"Nobody's looking for me," said Betsy. "Or me either," said Tacy.
"Or me either," said Tib.
They sat like lumps.
"Algebra," said Julia, "is hard. Jerry can't explain it with so many around. He can't concentrate."
"That's right," said Jerry. He turned around to smile at them again. Betsy liked him when he smiled. But she hardened her heart and didn't budge.
"Oh, well," said Julia. "Let's let the arithmetic go. Come on in the house, Jerry, and sing a while. I have some of the music from Robin Hood. Did you hear it?"
"Yes, I did."
"Wasn't it good? I went with papa and mamma. They decided I was old enough to start going to the theatre and they thought Robin Hood was a good thing to begin on. I loved it. I'm sure I'll like grand opera better, though."
Betsy writhed. It was her sorest grievance that she had not seen Robin Hood. She had never even been inside the Opera House.
Chatting in a grown-up way, Julia went into the house and Jerry followed. Betsy and Tacy and Tib followed too. They sat down in the largest, most comfortable chairs. They I said nothing.
Julia went to the piano stool and ran her white fingers trippingly over the keys. She fluttered the music on the rack. "Here's that good baritone solo. Sing it for me, Jerry." "Well, gosh!" said Jerry, bending to look at it. "I'd like to. But I'm no De Wolf Hopper."
"Please, Jerry! You've sung for me before." "But we were alone."
Julia turned the piano stool about.
"Why don't you three run over to Kelly's to play?" she asked pleadingly.
"Paul's got the stomach ache," said Tacy. "Too many green apples."
"Mamma's got company," said Tib, after being nudged. "I'm afraid we've got to stay right here," said Betsy. "Of course," she added cautiously after a moment, "we could go to Mrs. Chubbock's store for candy . . . if we had any money."
"We haven't any though," said Tacy. "At least I haven't." "Neither have I," said Tib.
"Neither have I," said Betsy. "Not a cent." Jerry dived into his pocket.
"Here, take this," he said, pulling out a dime.
Betsy looked from the dime to Tacy. And Tacy looked from the dime to Betsy. And Tib looked from the dime to Betsy and Tacy. What they were thinking, of course, was, "Of all the luck!" But Jerry misunderstood.
"Maybe a dime isn't enough," he said, "for three of you. Of course it isn't! You need a nickel apiece."
And he drew out a nickel.
This time Betsy and Tacy and Tib did not hesitate. With shouted thanks they grabbed and ran. They ran to Tacy's hitching block.
"There's enough for the book and still some for candy" "A nickel's worth of jaw-breakers!"
"Let's go down town right now," suggested Betsy. "We can go to Cook's Book Store and buy the book. Get some jaw-breakers on the way. Of course, we'll have to ask."
"Mamma will let us go, I think," said Tacy. "She feels sorry for me, on account of how hard I cried. Wait here while I ask."
She ran into the house.
She was slow in returning, but when she came it was with a sparkling face.
"We may go if we put on shoes and stockings. I've put mine on. "
"Mine are underneath the maple," said Tib, darting off. "I'll get mine," Betsy said.
She raced into the house and upstairs to the little front bedroom. She and Julia shared it with Margaret now. Rena slept in the little back bedroom that had once been Margaret's. The house was getting crowded, Mr. Ray said.
Rena was baking gingerbread. Betsy could tell by the smell rising from the kitchen. In the parlor Jerry was singing a song about Brown October Ale.
Betsy and Tacy and Tib started down Hill Street. They were pleased and excited because they were going down town. But they did not suspect what marvel they would see before they returned.
THE HORSELESS CARRIAGE
THE walk down town was uneventful . . . as uneventful as a walk down town could be. It always seemed important to go beyond Lincoln Park, that pie-shaped wedge of lawn with an elm tree and a fountain on it which marked the end of the neighborhood. Ahead stretched Broad Street where fine houses sat on wide, tree-shaded streets. Wooden sidewalks changed to cement ones here. Church steeples loomed ahead, and the shiny framework of the new Carnegie Library.
"When that library is finished," Betsy remarked, "we won't need to borrow our novels from Rena."
Parallel with Broad Street to the right were other streets rising one above another on the bluff. The High School that Julia and Katie attended lifted its tower there.
Parallel with Broad Street to the left was Second Street with more houses, churches, livery stables, and the Opera House. Beyond that, Front Street lay along the river. But the river could not be seen except in glimpses between stores and shops, the Depot, the Big Mill, and Mr. Melborn Poppy's splendid Melborn Hotel.
September lay upon Front Street in pale golden light. I Horses were drowsing at hitching rings and poles. In front

Subjective Criteria

Illustrations: No support

Dialog: Multiple speakers

Dialog: Broken dialogue

Dialog: Unlabeled Speaker

Vocabulary: Some difficult words

Language: Many descriptive words

Sentences: Multiple phrases

Text structure: Story/Poem

Complexity: Several unrelated ideas

Concepts: Concrete/Simple Social

Chapters

Sequence of Events: Chronological

Features

Character traits

Simple Plot

Topic

Writing

Plays

Friendship

*Entertainment & Fun

*Family & Friends

Reading

Low Frequency Words

account	ache	actual	adventurous	anxiously
apiece	appreciate	astounded	baritone	belted
bewilderment	borrow	carriage	cautiously	cigar
concentrate	contentedly	conversation	crotch	curls
dainty	depot	dickens	didi	drowsing
forked	freckled	freckles	furious	further
glimpses	grievance	hammock	handkerchief	hardened
hesitate	hoisted	horseless	instinct	irish
jeered	knickerbockers	lagged	lightly	limb
literature	livery	loaned	lodge	lofty
mamma	mamma's	maple	marriage	marvel
matured	melborn	mentioned	military	misunderstood
mousehole	nailed	neighborhood	neighboring	nimbly
novels	nudged	nuisances	opera	overflowed
parallel	parlor	patterson's	paused	peering
perch	perished	perky	persuaded	pleadingly
pleasant	poems	pointedly	pompadour	practically
private	prompted	providing	railing	readings
remarked	rena	retreat	ringleted	rooftops
rosebud	sailor	sarcastically	scornfully	shaded
shakespeare	shared	shawl	sidewalks	slender
solo	spacious	sparkling	splendid	stables
steeples	stockings	stoutly	suits	tablet
theatre	thoughtfully	trippingly	unconscious	uneventful
unexplored	unpinned	vista	waisted	warrington
wears	wedge	whist	whither	wistful
worth	writhed