WHEREIN THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED, AND MRS. COMSTOCK LEARNS THAT SHE CAN LAUGH
With the first streak of red above the Limberlost Margaret Sinton was busy with the gingham and the intricate paper pattern she had purchased. Wesley cooked the breakfast and worked until he thought Elnora would be gone, then he started to bring her mother.
“Now you be mighty careful,” cautioned Margaret. “I don’t know how she will take it.”
“I don’t either,” said Wesley philosophically, “but she’s got to take it some way. That dress has to be finished by school time in the morning.”
Wesley had not slept well that night. He had been so busy framing diplomatic speeches to make to Mrs. Comstock that sleep had little chance with him. Every step nearer to her he approached his position seemed less enviable. By the time he reached the front gate and started down the walk between the rows of asters and lady slippers he was perspiring, and every plausible and convincing speech had fled his brain. Mrs. Comstock helped him. She met him at the door.
“Good morning,” she said. “Did Margaret send you for something?”
“Yes,” said Wesley. “She’s got a job that’s too big for her, and she wants you to help.”
“Of course I will,” said Mrs. Comstock. It was no one’s affair how lonely the previous day had been, or how the endless hours of the present would drag. “What is she doing in such a rush?”
Now was his chance.
“She’s making a dress for Elnora,” answered, Wesley. He saw Mrs. Comstock’s form straighten, and her face harden, so he continued hastily. “You see Elnora has been helping us at harvest time, butchering, and with unexpected visitors for years. We’ve made out that she’s saved us a considerable sum, and as she wouldn’t ever touch any pay for anything, we just went to town and got a few clothes we thought would fix her up a little for the high school. We want to get a dress done to-day mighty bad, but Margaret is slow about sewing, and she never can finish alone, so I came after you.”
“And it’s such a simple little matter, so dead easy; and all so between old friends like, that you can’t look above your boots while you explain it,” sneered Mrs. Comstock. “Wesley Sinton, what put the idea into your head that Elnora would take things bought with money, when she wouldn’t take the money?”
Then Sinton’s eyes came up straightly.
“Finding her on the trail last night sobbing as hard as I ever saw any one at a funeral. She wasn’t complaining at all, but she’s come to me all her life with her little hurts, and she couldn’t hide how she’d been laughed at, twitted, and run face to face against the fact that there were books and tuition, unexpected, and nothing will ever make me believe you didn’t know that, Kate Comstock.”
“If any doubts are troubling you on that subject, sure I knew it! She was so anxious to try the world, I thought I’d just let her take a few knocks and see how she liked them.”
“As if she’d ever taken anything but knocks all her life!” cried Wesley Sinton. “Kate Comstock, you are a heartless, selfish woman. You’ve never shown Elnora any real love in her life. If ever she finds out that thing you’ll lose her, and it will serve you right.”
“She knows it now,” said Mrs. Comstock icily, “and she’ll be home to-night just as usual.”
“Well, you are a brave woman if you dared put a girl of Elnora’s make through what she suffered yesterday, and will suffer again to-day, and let her know you did it on purpose. I admire your nerve. But I’ve watched this since Elnora was born, and I got enough. Things have come to a pass where they go better for her, or I interfere.”
“As if you’d ever done anything but interfere all her life! Think I haven’t watched you? Think I, with my heart raw in my breast, and too numb to resent it openly, haven’t seen you and Mag Sinton trying to turn Elnora against me day after day? When did you ever tell her what her father meant to me? When did you ever try to make her see the wreck of my life, and what I’ve suffered? No indeed! Always it’s been poor little abused Elnora, and cakes, kissing, extra clothes, and encouraging her to run to you with a pitiful mouth every time I tried to make a woman of her.”
“Kate Comstock, that’s unjust,” cried Sinton. “Only last night I tried to show her the picture I saw the day she was born. I begged her to come to you and tell you pleasant what she needed, and ask you for what I happen to know you can well afford to give her.”
“I can’t!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You know I can’t!”
“Then get so you can!” said Wesley Sinton. “Any day you say the word you can sell six thousand worth of rare timber off this place easy. I’ll see to clearing and working the fields cheap as dirt, for Elnora’s sake. I’ll buy you more cattle to fatten. All you’ve got to do is sign a lease, to pull thousands from the ground in oil, as the rest of us are doing all around you!”
“Cut down Robert’s trees!” shrieked Mrs. Comstock. “Tear up his land! Cover everything with horrid, greasy oil! I’ll die first.”
“You mean you’ll let Elnora go like a beggar, and hurt and mortify her past bearing. I’ve got to the place where I tell you plain what I am going to do. Maggie and I went to town last night, and we bought what things Elnora needs most urgent to make her look a little like the rest of the high school girls. Now here it is in plain English. You can help get these things ready, and let us give them to her as we want——”
“She won’t touch them!” cried Mrs. Comstock.
“Then you can pay us, and she can take them as her right——”
“I won’t!”
“Then I will tell Elnora just what you are worth, what you can afford, and how much of this she owns. I’ll loan her the money to buy books and decent clothes, and when she is of age she can sell her share and pay me.”
Mrs. Comstock gripped a chair-back and opened her lips, but no words came.
“And,” Sinton continued, “if she is so much like you that she won’t do that, I’ll go to the county seat and lay complaint against you as her guardian before the judge. I’ll swear to what you are worth, and how you are raising her, and have you discharged, or have the judge appoint some man who will see that she is comfortable, educated, and decent looking!”
“You—you wouldn’t!” gasped Kate Comstock.
“I won’t need to, Kate!” said Sinton, his heart softening the instant the hard words were said. “You won’t show it, but you do love Elnora! You can’t help it! You must see how she needs things; come help us fix them, and be friends. Maggie and I couldn’t live without her, and you couldn’t either. You’ve got to love such a fine girl as she is; let it show a little!”
“You can hardly expect me to love her,” said Mrs. Comstock coldly. “But for her a man would stand back of me now, who would beat the breath out of your sneaking body for the cowardly thing with which you threaten me. After all I’ve suffered you’d drag me to court and compel me to tear up Robert’s property. If I ever go they carry me. If they touch one tree, or put down one greasy old oil well, it will be over all I can shoot, before they begin. Now, see how quick you can clear out of here!”
“You won’t come and help Maggie with the dress?”
For answer Mrs. Comstock looked around swiftly for some object on which to lay her hands. Knowing her temper, Wesley Sinton left with all the haste consistent with dignity. But he did not go home. He crossed a field, and in an hour brought another neighbour who was skilful with her needle. With sinking heart Margaret saw them coming.
“Kate is too busy to help to-day, she can’t sew before to-morrow,” said Wesley cheerfully as they entered.
That quieted Margaret’s apprehension a little, though she had some doubts. Wesley prepared the lunch, and by four o’clock the dress was finished as far as it possibly could be until it was fitted on Elnora. If that did not entail too much work, it could be completed in two hours.
Then Margaret packed their purchases into the big market basket. Wesley took the hat, umbrella, and raincoat, and they went to Mrs. Comstock’s. As they reached the step, Margaret spoke pleasantly to Mrs. Comstock, who sat reading just inside the door, but she did not answer and deliberately turned a leaf without looking up.
Wesley Sinton opened the door and went in followed by Margaret.
“Kate,” he said, “you needn’t take out your mad over our little racket on Maggie. I ain’t told her a word I said to you, or you said to me. She’s not so very strong, and she’s sewed since four o’clock this morning to get this dress ready for to-morrow. It’s done and we came down to try it on Elnora.”
“Is that the truth, Mag Sinton?” demanded Mrs. Comstock.
“You heard Wesley say so,” proudly affirmed Mrs. Sinton.
“I want to make you a proposition,” said Wesley. “Wait till Elnora comes. Then we’ll show her the things and see what she says.”
“How would it do to see what she says without bribing her,” sneered Mrs. Comstock.
“If she can stand what she did yesterday, and will to-day, she can bear ‘most anything,” said Wesley. “Put away the clothes if you want to, till we tell her.”
“Well, you don’t take this waist I’m working on,” said Margaret, “for I have to baste in the sleeves and set the collar. Put the rest out of sight if you like.”
Mrs. Comstock picked up the basket and bundles, placed them inside her room and closed the door.
Margaret threaded her needle and began to sew. Mrs. Comstock returned to her book, while Wesley fidgeted and raged inwardly. He could see that Margaret was nervous and almost in tears, but the lines in Mrs. Comstock’s impassive face were set and cold. So they sat while the clock ticked off the time—one hour, two, dusk, and no Elnora. Just when Margaret and Wesley were discussing whether he had not better go to town to meet Elnora, they heard her coming up the walk. Wesley dropped his tilted chair and squared himself. Margaret gripped her sewing, and turned pleading eyes toward the door. Mrs. Comstock closed her book and grimly smiled.
“Mother, please open the door,” called Elnora.
Mrs. Comstock arose, and swung back the screen. Elnora stepped in beside her, bent half double, the whole front of her dress gathered into a sort of bag filled with a heavy load, and one arm stacked high with books. In the dim light she did not see the Sintons.
“Please hand me the empty bucket in the kitchen, mother,” she said. “I just had to bring these arrow points home, but I’m scared for fear I’ve spoiled my dress and will have to wash it. I’m to clean them, and take them to the banker in the morning, and oh, mother, I’ve sold enough stuff to pay for my books, my tuition, and maybe a dress and some lighter shoes besides. Oh, mother I’m so happy! Take the books and bring the bucket!”
Then she saw Margaret and Wesley. “Oh, glory!” she exulted. “I was just wondering how I’d ever wait to tell you, and here you are! It’s too perfectly splendid to be true!”
“Tell us, Elnora,” said Sinton.
“Well sir,” said Elnora, doubling down on the floor and spreading out her skirt, “set the bucket here, mother. These points are brittle, and should be put in one at a time. If they are chipped I can’t sell them. Well sir! I’ve had a time! You know I just had to have books. I tried three stores, and they wouldn’t trust me, not even three days, I didn’t know what in this world I could do quickly enough. Just when I was almost frantic I saw a sign in a bank window asking for caterpillars, cocoons, butterflies, arrow points, and everything. I went in, and it was this Bird Woman who wants the insects, and the banker wants the stones. I had to go to school then, but, if you’ll believe it”—Elnora beamed on all of them in turn as she talked and slipped the arrow points from her dress to the pail—“if you’ll believe it—but you won’t, hardly, until you look at the books—there was the mathematics teacher, waiting at his door, and he had a set of books for me that he had telephoned a Sophomore to bring.”
“How did he happen to do that, Elnora?” interrupted Sinton.
Elnora blushed.
“It was a fool mistake I made yesterday in thinking books were just handed out to one. There was a teachers’ meeting last night and the history teacher told about that. Professor Henley thought of me. You know I told you what he said about my algebra, mother. Ain’t I glad I studied out some of it myself this summer! So he telephoned and a girl brought the books. Because they are marked and abused some I get the whole outfit for two dollars. I can erase most of the marks, paste down the covers, and fix them so they look better. But I must hurry to the joy part. I didn’t stop to eat, at noon, I just ran to the Bird Woman’s, and I had lunch with her. It was salad, hot chocolate, and lovely things, and she wants to buy most every old scrap I ever gathered. She wants dragonflies, moths, butterflies, and he—the banker, I mean—wants everything Indian. This very night she came to the swamp with me and took away enough stuff to pay for the books and tuition, and to-morrow she is going to buy some more.”
Elnora laid the last arrow point in the pail and arose, shaking leaves and bits of baked earth from her dress. She reached into her pocket, produced her money and waved it before their wondering eyes.
“And that’s the joy part!” she exulted. “Put it up in the clock till morning, mother. That pays for the books and tuition and—” Elnora hesitated, for she saw the nervous grasp with which her mother’s fingers closed on the bills. Then she continued, but more slowly and thinking before she spoke.
“What I get to-morrow pays for more books and tuition, and maybe a few, just a few, things to wear. These shoes are so dreadfully heavy and hot, and they make such a noise on the floor. There isn’t another calico dress in the whole building, not among hundreds of us. Why, what is that? Aunt Margaret, what are you hiding in your lap?”
She snatched the waist and shook it out, and her face was beaming. “Have you taken to waists all fancy and buttoned in the back? I bet you this is mine!”
“I bet you so too,” said Margaret Sinton. “You undress right away and try it on, and if it fits, it will be done for morning. There are some low shoes, too!”
Elnora began to dance. “Oh, you dear people!” she cried. “I can pay for them to-morrow night! Isn’t it too splendid! I was just thinking on the way home that I certainly would be compelled to have cooler shoes until later, and I was wondering what I’d do when the fall rains begin.”
“I meant to get you some heavy dress skirts and a coat then,” said Mrs. Comstock.
“I know you said so!” cried Elnora. “But you needn’t, now! I can buy every single stitch I need myself. Next summer I can gather up a lot more stuff, and all winter on the way to school. I am sure I can sell ferns, I know I can nuts, and the Bird Woman says the grade rooms want leaves, grasses, birds’ nests, and cocoons. Oh, isn’t this world lovely! I’ll be helping with the tax, next, mother!”
Elnora waved the waist and started for the bedroom. When she opened the door she gave a little cry.
“What have you people been doing?” she demanded. “I never saw so many interesting bundles in all my life. I’m ‘skeered’ to death for fear I can’t pay for them, and will have to give up something.”
“Wouldn’t you take them, if you could not pay for them, Elnora?” asked her mother instantly.
“Why, not unless you did,” answered Elnora. “People have no right to wear things they can’t afford, have they?”
“But from such old friends as Maggie and Wesley!” Mrs. Comstock’s voice was oily with triumph.
“From them least of all,” cried Elnora stoutly. “From a stranger sooner than from them, to whom I owe so much more than I ever can pay now.”
“Well, you don’t have to,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Maggie just selected these things, because she is more in touch with the world, and has got such good taste. You can pay as long as your money holds out, and if there’s more necessary, maybe I can sell the butcher a calf, or if things are too costly for us, of course, they can take them back. Put on the waist now, and then you can look over the rest and see if they are suitable, and what you want.”
Elnora stepped into the adjoining room and closed the door. Mrs. Comstock picked up the bucket and started for the well with it. At the bedroom she paused.
“Elnora, were you going to wash these arrow points?”
“Yes. The Bird Woman says they sell better if they are clean, so it can be seen that there are no defects in them.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Some of them seem quite baked. Shall I put them to soak? Do you want to take them in the morning?”
“Yes, I do,” answered Elnora. “If you would just fill the pail with water.”
Mrs. Comstock left the room. Wesley Sinton sat with his back to the window in the west end of the cabin which overlooked the well. A suppressed sound behind him caused him to turn quickly. Then he arose and leaned over Margaret.
“She’s out there laughing like a blamed monkey!” he whispered indignantly.
“Well, she can’t help it!” exclaimed Margaret.
“I’m going home!” said Wesley.
“Oh no, you are not!” retorted Margaret. “You are missing the point. The point is not how you look, or feel. It is to get these things in Elnora’s possession past dispute. You go now, and to-morrow Elnora will wear calico, and Kate Comstock will return these goods. Right here I stay until everything we bought is Elnora’s.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Wesley.
“I don’t know yet, myself,” said Margaret.
Then she arose and peered from the window. At the well curb stood Katharine Comstock. The strain of the day was finding reaction. Her chin was in the air, she was heaving, shaking and strangling to suppress any sound. The word that slipped between Margaret Sinton’s lips shocked Wesley until he dropped on his chair, and recalled her to her senses. She was fairly composed as she turned to Elnora, and began the fitting. When she had pinched, pulled, and patted she called, “Come see if you think this fits, Kate.”
Mrs. Comstock had gone around to the back door and answered from the kitchen. “You know more about it than I do. Go ahead! I’m getting supper. Don’t forget to allow for what it will shrink in washing!”
“I set the colours and washed the goods last night; it can be made to fit right now,” answered Margaret.
When she could find nothing more to alter she told Elnora to heat some water. After she had done that the girl began opening packages.
The hat came first.
“Mother!” cried Elnora. “Mother, of course, you have seen this, but you haven’t seen it on me. I must try it on.”
“Don’t you dare put that on your head until your hair is washed and properly combed,” said Margaret.
“Oh!” cried Elnora. “Is that water to wash my hair? I thought it was to set the colour in another dress.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” said Margaret simply. “Your hair is going to be washed and brushed until it shines like copper. While it dries you can eat your supper, and this dress will be finished. Then you can put on your new ribbon, and your hat. You can try your shoes now, and if they don’t fit, you and Wesley can drive to town and change them. That little round bundle on the top of the basket is your stockings.”
Margaret sat down and began sewing swiftly, and a little later opened the machine, and ran several long seams.
Elnora returned in a few minutes holding up her skirts and stepping daintily in the new shoes.
“Don’t soil them, honey, else you’re sure they fit,” cautioned Wesley.
“They seem just a trifle large, maybe,” said Elnora dubiously, and Wesley knelt to feel. He and Margaret thought them a fit, and then Elnora appealed to her mother. Mrs. Comstock appeared wiping her hands on her apron. She examined the shoes critically.
“They seem to fit,” she said, “but they are away too fine to walk country roads.”
“I think so, too,” said Elnora instantly. “We had better take these back and get a cheaper pair.”
“Oh, let them go for this time,” said Mrs. Comstock. “They are so pretty, I hate to part with them. You can get cheaper ones after this.”
Wesley and Margaret scarcely breathed for a long time.
When Wesley went to do the feeding. Elnora set the table. When the water was hot, Margaret pinned a big towel around Elnora’s shoulders and washed and dried the lovely hair according to the instructions she had been given the previous night. As the hair began to dry it billowed out in a sparkling sheen that caught the light and gleamed and flashed.
“Now, the idea is to let it stand naturally, just as the curl will make it. Don’t you do any of that nasty, untidy snarling, Elnora,” cautioned Margaret. “Wash it this way every two weeks while you are in school, shake it out, and dry it. Then part it in the middle and turn a front quarter on each side from your face. You tie the back at your neck with a string—so, and the ribbon goes in a big, loose bow. I’ll show you.” One after another Margaret Sinton tied the ribbons, creasing each of them so they could not be returned, as she explained that she was trying to find the colour most becoming. Then she produced the raincoat which carried Elnora into transports.
Mrs. Comstock objected. “That won’t be warm enough for cold weather, and you can’t afford it and a coat, too.”
“I’ll tell you what I thought,” said Elnora. “I was planning on the way home. These coats are fine because they keep you dry. I thought I would get one, and a warm sweater to wear under it cold days. Then I always would be dry, and warm. The sweater only costs three dollars, so I could get it and the raincoat both for half the price of a heavy cloth coat.”
“You are right about that,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You can change more with the weather, too. Keep the raincoat, Elnora.”
“Wear it until you try the hat,” said Margaret. “It will have to do until the dress is finished.”
Elnora picked up the hat dubiously. “Mother, may I wear my hair as it is now?” she asked.
“Let me take a good look,” said Katharine Comstock.
Heaven only knows what she saw. To Wesley and to Margaret the bright young face of Elnora, with its pink tints, its heavy dark brows, its bright blue-gray eyes, and its frame of curling reddish-brown hair was the sweetest sight on earth, and at that instant Elnora was radiant.
“So long as it’s your own hair, and combed back as plain as it will go, I don’t suppose it cuts much ice whether it’s tied a little tighter or looser,” conceded Mrs. Comstock. “If you stop right there, you may let it go at that.”
Elnora set the hat on her head. It was only a wide tan straw with three exquisite peacock quills at one side. Margaret Sinton cried out, Wesley slapped his knee and sighed deeply while Mrs. Comstock stood speechless for a second.
“I wish you had asked the price before you put that on,” she said impatiently. “We never can afford it.”
“It’s not so much as you think,” said Margaret. “Don’t you see what I did? I had them take off the quills, and put on some of those Phoebe Simms gave me from her peacocks. The hat will only cost you a dollar and a half.”
She avoided Wesley’s eyes, and looked straight at Mrs. Comstock. Elnora removed the hat to examine it.
“Why, they are those reddish-tan quills of yours!” she cried. “Mother, look how beautifully they are set on! I’d much rather have them than those from the store.”
“So would I,” said Mrs. Comstock. “If Margaret wants to spare them, that will make you a beautiful hat; dirt cheap, too! You must go past Mrs. Simms and show her. She would be pleased to see them.”
Elnora sank into a chair and contemplated her toe. “Landy, ain’t I a queen?” she murmured. “What else have I got?”
“Just a belt, some handkerchiefs, and a pair of top shoes for rainy days and colder weather,” said Margaret.
“About those high shoes, that was my idea,” said Wesley. “Soon as it rains, low shoes won’t do, and by taking two pairs at once I could get them some cheaper. The low ones are two and the high ones two fifty, together three seventy-five. Ain’t that cheap?”
“That’s a real bargain,” said Mrs. Comstock, “if they are good shoes, and they look it.”
“This,” said Wesley, producing the last package, “is your Christmas present from your Aunt Maggie. I got mine, too, but it’s at the house. I’ll bring it up in the morning.”
He handed Margaret the umbrella, and she passed it over to Elnora who opened it and sat laughing under its shelter. Then she kissed both of them. She brought a pencil and a slip of paper to set down the prices they gave her of everything they had brought except the umbrella, added the sum, and said laughingly: “Will you please wait till to-morrow for the money? I will have it then, sure.”
“Elnora,” said Wesley Sinton. “Wouldn’t you——”
“Elnora, hustle here a minute!” called Mrs. Comstock from the kitchen. “I need you!”
“One second, mother,” answered Elnora, throwing off the coat and hat, and closing the umbrella as she ran. There were several errands to do in a hurry, and then supper. Elnora chattered incessantly, Wesley and Margaret talked all they could, while Mrs. Comstock said a word now and then, which was all she ever did. But Wesley Sinton was watching her, and time and again he saw a peculiar little twist around her mouth. He knew that for the first time in sixteen years she really was laughing over something. She had all she could do to preserve her usually sober face. Wesley knew what she was thinking.
After supper the dress was finished, the pattern for the next one discussed, and then the Sintons went home. Elnora gathered her treasures. When she started upstairs she stopped. “May I kiss you good-night, mother?” she asked lightly.
“Never mind any slobbering,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I should think you’d lived with me long enough to know that I don’t care for it.”
“Well, I’d love to show you in some way how happy I am, and how I thank you.”
“I wonder what for?” said Mrs. Comstock. “Mag Sinton chose that stuff and brought it here and you pay for it.”
“Yes, but you seemed willing for me to have it, and you said you would help me if I couldn’t pay all.”
“Maybe I did,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Maybe I did. I meant to get you some heavy dress skirts about Thanksgiving, and I still can get them. Go to bed, and for any sake don’t begin mooning before a mirror, and make a dunce of yourself.”
Mrs. Comstock picked up several papers and blew out the kitchen light. She stood in the middle of the sitting-room floor for a time and then went into her room and closed the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed she thought for a few minutes and then suddenly buried her face in the pillow and again heaved with laughter.
Down the road plodded Margaret and Wesley Sinton. Neither of them had words to utter their united thought.
“Done!” hissed Wesley at last. “Done brown! Did you ever feel like a bloomin’, confounded donkey? How did the woman do it?”
“She didn’t do it!” gulped Margaret through her tears. “She didn’t do anything. She trusted to Elnora’s great big soul to bring her out right, and really she was right, and so it had to bring her. She’s a darling, Wesley! But she’s got a time before her. Did you see Kate Comstock grab that money? Before six months she’ll be out combing the Limberlost for bugs and arrow points to help pay the tax. I know her.”
“Well, I don’t!” exclaimed Sinton, “she’s too many for me. But there is a laugh left in her yet! I didn’t s’pose there was. Bet you a dollar, if we could see her this minute, she’d be chuckling over the way we got left.”
Both of them stopped in the road and looked back.
“There’s Elnora’s light in her room,” said Margaret. “The poor child will feel those clothes, and pore over her books till morning, but she’ll look decent to go to school, anyway. Nothing is too big a price to pay for that.”
“Yes, if Kate lets her wear them. Ten to one, she makes her finish the week with that old stuff!”
“No, she won’t,” said Margaret. “She’ll hardly dare. Kate made some concessions, all right; big ones for her—if she did get her way in the main. She bent some, and if Elnora proves that she can walk out barehanded in the morning and come back with that much money in her pocket, an armful of books, and buy a turnout like that, she proves that she is of some consideration, and Kate’s smart enough. She’ll think twice before she’ll do that. Elnora won’t wear a calico dress to high school again. You watch and see if she does. She may have the best clothes she’ll get for a time, for the least money, but she won’t know it until she tries to buy goods herself at the same rates. Wesley, what about those prices? Didn’t they shrink considerable?”
“You began it,” said Wesley. “Those prices were all right. We didn’t say what the goods cost us, we said what they would cost her. Surely, she’s mistaken about being able to pay all that. Can she pick up stuff of that value around the Limberlost? Didn’t the Bird Woman see her trouble, and just give her the money?”
“I don’t think so,” said Margaret. “Seems to me I’ve heard of her paying, or offering to pay those who would take the money, for bugs and butterflies, and I’ve known people who sold that banker Indian stuff. Once I heard that his pipe collection beat that of the Govern