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'When I was a girl we wore our hair down our backs in a braid and was thankful to our Creator for the blessing of a heavy head of hair. "Faith laughed and laughed. I can see her now; she had a funny way of crinkling up her eyes when she laughed. "'I'll take it down for you, Mrs. Watterby, she says; and, my land, if she didn't pull out every pin and let her hair tumble down her back.
The most disquieting rumors had come down from the fields that afternoon, and Bob knew that every kind of story, authentic and unfounded, would be promptly retailed over the Watterby gate. If Mr. Gordon's life were in danger, and Bob feared it was, it would be agony for Betty to be unable to go to him and be forced to listen to hectic accounts of the fire.
They both thanked him repeatedly, and he stalked off, carrying his piece of the apple tart and apparently assured of their sincerity. "Though what he expects me to do with a hunting knife is more than I can guess," laughed Bob. "Be sure you send me a postal from Washington. I never knew anybody from there before," said Grandma Watterby earnestly.
Bob took this advice, and the sympathetic Watterby family came to the oil-spotted pair's assistance with copious supplies of hot water, soap and towels and liberal handfuls of borax, for the water was very hard. "I'm clean, anyway, and that makes me feel good, so why should I care how I look?" was Bob's defense when his appearance was commented on.
Then Grandma Watterby took up her sewing with a sigh, and the spell was broken. "Know everybody in the neighborhood?" she echoed Bob's statement. "Yes, I used to. But with so many moving in and such a lot of oil folks, why, there's days when I don't see a rig pass the house I know." Betty and Bob spoke simultaneously. "Do you know any one named Saunders?" they chorused.
The doctor urged Bob and Betty strongly to stay to supper with him and promised beaten biscuit and honey, but although they knew the skill of his old Southern cook very well, they had promised Grandma Watterby to be there for supper and such a promise could not be disregarded.
"I'll have to go to Flame City, too, I think," decided Betty. "I hope you'll take the next automobile ride," she added, mounting Clover. "Gee, Grandma Watterby says if they buy a car I can have all the rides I want," grinned the towhead engagingly. "You bet I hope they buy!" All her worry about Bob shut down on Betty again as she urged the horse toward the town.
Luckily there was little packing to be done, for the few bits of old furniture were to be sold for what they would bring, and the keepsakes that neither Miss Hope nor her sister could bring themselves to part with were stored in several old trunks to be housed in the Watterby attic.
Grandma Watterby, as might be expected, was delighted with the turn of events, and Betty and Bob spent a day with her, telling her all that had happened. "It's better than a book," she sighed contentedly. "If Emma would only go around more, I'm sure she could find interesting things to tell me. 'Fore I was crippled with rheumatism, I used to know all that was goin' on."
"But I never dreamed you would send East for 'em simply because I happened to say I was hungry for good candy. Um um taste one quick, Bob." Bob took a caramel and pronounced it not "half bad." "Uncle Dick's gone somewhere with Dave Thorne," announced Betty, biting into another candy. "He didn't know when he would get back, and I'm supposed to ride to the Watterby farm for lunch.
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