The Waterbury Democrat., 1931-03-21
CHAPTER XIII

why, they re regular gang, aren't they?" Ginger cried. Ben to,s gang. Isn't Iowa getting
 But they explained that 1t was no gang, that Benito had been free lancing on his own account and to the horror of his countrymen. Little Angelo had taken the first train back to his mother in Chicago. He couldn't think of remaining longer in place where such horrible crimes were committed; his mother wouldn't like it.
 Pietro, on the other hand, did not wish to leave at all. He was wait ing to talk it over with Ginger. He said 1t was a good job. and he liked It.. and if Miss Ginger! was willing he'd cook her spaghetti for life
 "Oh, Phil" leased Ginger, how ever did you get the idea that may be l was bored?"
 Almost with consciousness itself returned the memory that Cotton was the wife of Speed.
 And l hope" she said slyly. set ting herself more comfortably with in Bard's arm, that you do not feel so very badly about that
 "I don't feel badly about it at all. The only thing I regret is that my portrait painting has been so inter- rupted. I'm in great hurry now to get enough money for us to get married on."
 Perhaps" she suggested bright ly. Phil will be willing to lend us some of the ransom money. It was really you who saved it for her." But she lapsed presently into trou- bled thought.
 Bard" she said at last, with a sigh, II have something to tell you. You're going to be disappointed in | me, I know. But you may as well have the truth before you begin sav- ing money"
 Ut sounds very terrible" he said, smiling.
 Tt is terrible. You see, it's like this. I'm not really what you think l am at all."
 q think you are the sweetest"
 "Yes. but listen. I'm not really sophisticated and smart and world ly as I've been letting on. Not bit. I'm really-Im just the same old parsonage Ginger that I always was. You know, Bard, you can't outgrow things when you get to be my age, I'm sort of ashamed of 1t, in a way. but on the whole it's comfortable, too"
 What do you mean, Ginger?"
 "Why. being old-fashioned like am. You know, Bard. still say my prayers. Yes. really. Not before people-but l do. And believe me, when I get in a jam I say them in earnest! Every time I half came-to in that boat I was just praying my head off. Don't tell the others. How Enr rlF 1n uh
 Bard's eyes were misty. He caressed her hand. pressed 1t to his lips. He did not speak.
 And the way l pan preachers" she continued ruefully. Its all put on. Really. I still think preachers arc quite corking--nice ones. that is, like father. And Bard, don't tell this. but I don't like to See Cotton smoke. I'd much rather she didn't. But don't ever give mo away. will you?"
 "Is that all of the confession?"
 She sighed little. Ut seemed no more than fair to tell you," she said regretfully, But I knew you would be disappointed in me-
 "But Ginger" he said laughing. "you know-to tell you tho truth suspected 1t all the time."
 Ginger was wordlessly amazed.
 You often gave yourself away" he went on. Just little things that would crop out now and then"
 "Oh, dear" she said. What a trump I must bel"
 Bard stood up. Guess I'd better get at those portraits" he said. Every hour I lay off work now Is just so many days I haven't got you"
 Ginger frightened. You mean she said. Parsonage and all?"
 Parsonage and all," he declared firmly.
 But when it came to breaking the news to Eddy Jackson-dear. faith full Eddy Jackson!-tried and true friend through the narrowing vicis- sitLdes of so many years-her happt- ness clouded n little. She sent every one else away and had him come, alone, and sit beside her on the bed.
 "Eddy." she said. burrowing her head into the silken cushions and reaching feverlshly for his hands those kind hands that had steadied her troubled steps through so this" she began. You know how Bard is, don't your"
 No" said Eddy. "How Is he?"
 "Hes all right" she said, slightly disconcerted. "I mean you know how his disposition is."
 Its pretty rotten sometimes, l think" said Eddy critically.
 "I mean. he is careless. said Gin- ger more firmly. He's just an art fist and really, in some ways. he hasn't gat so very much sense. He would just go on painting portrait after portrait--and pay for the paints and cnnvases himself--and never ask anybody for n cent of money if I wasn't right there to nudge him. He's just got to have somebody to take care of him and remind him of things he forgets- like getting the money. Don't you sec how 1t is?'
 "Weli. don't just see it. admit ted Eddy. But if you say he hasn't got much sense. suppose he hasn't"
 ''That Isn't what mean. Dear mel What I mean is that--dear, dear Eddy!--1 hope you won't think for a miuul0 that Iowa him or any-