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Updated: May 25, 2025
She had had little time for riding since she had been nurse and housekeeper, and the little horse was becoming restive from too much confinement. "A ride will do you good," declared Miss Hope, in her eager, positive fashion. "I suppose you'll stop in at Grandma Watterby's? Tell her Charity and I thank her very much for the rugs and for the beef tea she sent us."
I took a look at the pantry last night before you came, and the old ladies have been living on what the farm produced; if it didn't produce what they needed, they evidently went without. I'm afraid they're desperately poor and proud. What's that? Grandma Watterby's beef extract? Fine! Just what you need! Give 'em some for supper.
It was a foot below her waist, too. I never saw such a head o' hair." Bob looked up at the old woman with shining eyes. "That was my mother," he said quietly. "Your mother!" Grandma Watterby's tone was startled. Then her face broke into a wrinkled smile. "Well, now, ain't I stupid?" she demanded eagerly. "My head isn't what it used to be. Course you are Faith Saunders' son.
Watterby's waffles were quite as good as they smelled, and she apparently had mixed an inexhaustible quantity of batter. Every one ate rapidly and in comparative silence, a habit to which Bob and Betty were by now quite accustomed. When Mr. Gordon was present he insisted on a little conversation, but his presence was lacking to-day.
"Grandma Watterby's great-nephew, up to Tippewa, died and left her two thousand dollars. And she says she always wanted a car, and now she's going to have one. A different agent has been here trying to sell her one every week. They took me last time."
"No thanks," said Betty, uncertain what to do next. "I don't suppose there's a telephone at your house, is there?" she asked, smiling. The urchin shook his head quickly. "No, we ain't got one," he replied. "Was you wanting to use Mis' Watterby's? It's out of order. Been no good for two days. My ma had to go to Flame City yesterday to telephone my dad."
Suddenly Betty's eyes widened in astonishment. She jerked up Clover's head so sharply that that pampered pet shook it angrily. Why should she be treated like that? "The three hills!" gasped Betty. "Grandma Watterby's three hills! 'Joined together like hands' she always says, and right back of the Saunders' house. Clover! do you suppose we've found the three hills and Bob's aunts?"
"No, not a dog," said the Indian showing his white teeth in a grin which was the nearest he ever permitted himself to come to a laugh. "Not a dog a fox. I shot him last night. He would eat Mis' Watterby's chickens." "So that was what I heard," Betty said, recalling the noise that had wakened her. "Bob, come and see the fox Ki shot."
Before the purchase of the automobile, bought with a legacy inherited by Grandma Watterby, dishes and housework had been the sum total of Mrs. Will Watterby's existence. Now that she could drive the car and get away from her kitchen sink at will, she seemed another woman. Betty voiced something of this to Bob as she unfastened the towel and let her heavy dark hair fall over her shoulders.
She was up at four o'clock this morning, carrying water to fill the tubs; she is doing the washing now." "Water's as hard as a rock, too," commented Bob. "I suppose that's the alkali. Did you notice how harsh and dry Mrs. Watterby's face looks? Seems to me I'd rather drill for water than for oil, and the first thing I'd do would be to pump a line into the house.
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