Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1923-06-07
CHAPTER H.-contlnued.

P
Above these rooms was a loft, once
used for hay but now entirely cut
off from the ground floor. It could,
however, be approached by ladder
on the outside-and was so ap-
preached by Crink during winter
rains, when it was the last resort for
drying clothes.
1t was September. The California
summer was in its glory; the days
were warm and bright, not yet edged
with the crispness of fall. Crink be-
ing in school, Mrs. Penfeld was man.
aging alone.
She had taken up her basket Of
clothes and started for the yard,
when the bell rang. This was strictly
in accordance with the usual routine,
because Mrs. Penfleld rarely finished
anything without interruption. She
put down her basket and went to the
door.
"Good morning, Mrs. Bosley. Come
right in"
A young woman stood outside. She
was carefully groomed, snartly
dressed, striking in appearance with
out being exactly pretty. She and
her husband lived in The Custard
Cup, but no one could understand
why. They were apparently free of
all responsibilities and devoted them
selves to good time; in short; they
were everything that the other mem
bers of the community were not.
II can't stop, Mrs. Penfeld. I'm
going downtown, and wondered If
you't let me leave this package with
you. It's got a few trinkets in It,
and I'd feel safer"
Mrs. Penfeld hesitated. 81 hain't
got eny safe place" she said slowly,
%SHc I'm in and out
Gussie Bosley broke in eagerly.
''You needn't feel any care about it.
Nobody'd take It, but I've got feel
1ng-Td rather leave 1t here. I put
a newspaper round it, so 'twouldn't
leek of any value whatever" She
passed over a small package.
Mrs. Penfeld took it with some re-
1uctance and carried IT into her bed
room. She was accustomed to all
sorts of strange requests but it was
the first time she had been asked to
guard valuables.
IT expect she thinks nobods,'d look
here" Mrs. Penf1eld reflected; and
with that she dismissed the matter
altogether and went on out to the
yard with her basket. AS she wiped
the lines, she sang under Der breath
in sheer blitheness of spirit. This was
the happiest part Of her work; she
loved the air, the sunshine.
"Mornin'," called a rasping voice.
-"Why, Mr.. Wopple, good morning I"
she returned briskly. "Ain't it a
grand dayY
'Well, pretty fair" conceded Mr..
Wopple grudgingly. He never so far
encouraged anything, even the
weather, as to give 1t unqualified APP
prevail.
Mr.. Wopple was night Waterman
IN some vague building near the
water front; and no one in The Gus
tard Cup questioned his being emil
hently adapted to exactly that work.
Watchfulness was the keynote Of his
personality; he sacrificed many hours
Of possible daytime sleep by bringing
Bis professional activities into the
home field.
Eyes, it's a grand day." repeated
Mrs. Penfeld, quite as If she had re-
ceived more encouragement. GLOW
are you feeling, Mr.. Wopple2"
"Jest middlin'," he replied, in die
away voice. His small, beady eyes
were filmed for moment, out of def
erence to this sentiment. He gazed
at Mrs. Penfeld with new shrewd-
ness which she would have sensed at
once If she had been less occupied.
.'I see Thad's got new rig" con-
ainued Mr.. Wopple, in the manner of
sne who delivers a preamble.
"Yes, bless the babyp laughed Mrs.
Renfeld. 81 finished that up last
night. I'm sorry it's pink, cause it
Cont go with his hair the best ever,
bit that nice gingham couldn't go to
waste"
81 expect Thad's lucky to get as
nlucks that" Mr.. Wopple now be-
gan on the main argument
"Sure. He was little Disappointed
bout the color, cause he amt struck
With pink, but that's good for him.
I figger a child ought to be dis'ppoint-
I'd at least once a week, in order to
get used to life" She discarded
broken clothespin and reached into
her pocket for another.
81 guess likely you aimed to have
folks think he was your own kid"
insinuated Mr.. Wopple, testing the
strength OF his old pruning-shears.
Land, no. I never claimed he was.
He's mine cause l adopted him and
love him, and cause he loves me.
That's all there is to It."
Mr.. Wopple thought otherwise. "It's
easy said. Mis- Penfield, but I'll bet