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Updated: September 22, 2025
Well, anyway, I don't believe in being narrow; if a man can show me a better way to do a job, I'm willing to be shown." "I simply have to have a clean middy blouse to wear to-morrow when Uncle Dick gets back," Betty confided to Bob. "And I don't intend to let Mrs. Watterby wash and iron it for me. Can't you fix me a tub of water somewhere out in the barn?
Bob forbore to argue further, more because he thought that it was best to get Betty away from the Watterby place on the main road to Flame City than because he approved of her taking another long ride after an exhausting day.
Never! Mrs. Watterby is always so busy. I wonder if anything has happened." "Hello! Hello!" A shout from the roadway made her turn. "You looking for Mr. Watterby?" "I'm looking for any one of them," explained Betty, smiling at the tow-haired boy who stood grinning at her. "Are they all away?" "Yep. They're out riding in an automobile," announced the boy importantly.
The men are all working in the oil fields. Ki is mad at the oil investors, and that's the only reason Will Watterby can keep him." "Are they both asleep?" asked Bob, whose mind skipped topics with amazing rapidity. "All right then, let's go out to the barn. Something tells me if you look around you'll get a basket of eggs."
The hospitable front door was closed, and the shining array of milk pans on the back porch was the only evidence that some one had been at work that morning. No Grandma Watterby came smiling down to the gate, no busy Mrs. Will Watterby came to the window with her sleeves rolled high. "Well, for pity's sake!" gasped Betty, completely astounded. "I never knew them to go off anywhere all at once.
"But my brand-new blouse that I worked on for two days you ought to see it, Uncle Dick! Grandma Watterby thinks maybe she can get the oil out, but she says the color may come out, too." Mr. Gordon sat down on the step and took off his hat. "You've a clear claim for damages, Betty," he assured his niece gravely. "To save time, I'm willing to make good; what does a new blouse cost?"
"Oh, Bob, you're so funny!" she sighed. "I made this blouse all myself that is," she corrected, "Mrs. Watterby helped me cut it out and she sewed the sleeves in after I had basted them in wrong twice, but I did everything else. There wasn't a scrap of goods left over, either. I put it on to-day because I wanted you to see me in it." She was worth seeing, Bob acknowledged to himself.
"Well now," fluttered Grandma Watterby, pleased as could be, "I don't know when I've had somebody give me a lift. Working all by yourself is tedious-like, and Emma don't get a minute to set down. My brother used to make lots of mats to sell; he could braid 'em tighter than I can." She showed Betty how to braid and then started Bob on three strips.
The Watterby household had the farm habit of retiring early, and to-night Betty and Bob were anxious to get to sleep early, too, that they might have a good start in the morning. Mr. Gordon was glad to turn in when the rest did and make up for lost sleep, so by nine o'clock the house was wrapped in slumber. An hour or two later Betty was awakened by what sounded like a shot.
"You go right out in the sun and dry your hair, Betty," said Mrs. Watterby, when the meal was over. "No, I don't need any help with the dishes. Grandma and me, we're going over to town in the car this afternoon and I don't care whether I do the dishes till I come back or not." This, for Mrs. Watterby, was a great step forward.
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