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Updated: September 22, 2025
Startled, she listened for a moment, and then, hearing no further commotion, went to sleep again. She was the first one down in the morning, barring Mrs. Watterby, who, winter and summer, rose at half-past four or earlier. Going out to the pump for a drink of water she saw Ki bending over something beside the woodshed. "Hey!" he hailed her, without getting up. "Come see what I got."
Bob and Betty had never seen a wagon fitted up like this, and they thought it far better than a store. "I might buy that dotted swiss shirtwaist," whispered Betty, as Mrs. Watterby ordered five yards of apron gingham measured off. "My middy blouse might not dry in time." "All right. And I'll get a clean collar," agreed Bob.
Her eyes were bright and clear as a bird's, and she had a quick, darting way of glancing at one that was like a bird, too. "Emma's got the supper on," she announced. "She's frying chicken." "I'll go in and tell Mrs. Watterby that she may count on me," declared Mr. Gordon jovially, as Bob jumped down and helped Betty out. "I never miss a chance to eat fried chicken, never.
Betty enjoyed the sense of motion and the rush of the wind, and horse and girl had a glorious hour before they drew rein at the Watterby gate. "Well, bless her heart, did she come to see us at last!" cried Grandma Watterby, hurrying down to greet her. "Emma!" she called. "Emma! Just see who's come to stay with us."
Ki, it developed, when they reached the Watterby farm, had been busy with farewell plans of his own. "For you," he announced gravely to Bob, handing him an immense hunting knife as he stepped out of the car. "For you," he informed Betty with equal gravity, presenting her a little silver nugget.
"These aren't much and I suppose they're too cheap to last long, but at any rate they're clean." The peddler drove on at last, and then Bob and Betty hurried back to their washing. Alas, the tub had disappeared. At supper that night, Mrs. Watterby had missed it and demanded of her husband if he had seen it. "Sure, I had Ki spraying the hen house this afternoon," Watterby rejoined.
"Look ahead, and you'll see the Watterby farm 'place, in the vernacular of the countryside," announced Mr. Gordon. "Unlike the Eastern farms, very few homes are named. There's Grandma Watterby watching for us." Bob and Betty looked with interest.
He pulled out to allow her room, recognized her, and waved a friendly hand as he raced by. By this token Betty knew he was in haste, for he always stopped to talk to her and ask after the Saunders sisters. The Watterby place, when she reached it, seemed deserted.
Ki will look after Clover," said Bob authoritatively. "Supper is almost ready, and I'll tell you all I know. Mrs. Watterby has gone to bed with a sick headache, but Grandma is taking her place." "Is it a very bad fire?" urged Betty. "Where is it? When did it start? Have you seen it?" "I guess it is pretty bad," said Bob soberly. "It's the north section, Betty. Just what Thorne has been afraid of."
The household rejoiced with Bob that he had found his kindred, and Grandma Watterby expressed the sentiments of all when she said that "Bob will take care of them two old women and be a prop to 'em for their remaining years." Ki, the Indian, had the fox skin cured, and proudly showed it to Betty.
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