“Of course not!” cried Wyn, warmly. “Of course not!”
“Well, then, you’ll have to believe just what I tell you. Father was in some business deal with a man here in Denton, and something went wrong. The other man accused father of being dishonest. Father could not defend himself. Circumstances were dead against him. And it worried mother so that it made her sick.
“So we all left town. Father had very little money, and he built a shack up there in the woods near Honotonka. We’re just ‘squatters’ up there. But gradually father got a few boats, and built a float, and made enough in the summer from fishermen and campers to support us. Of course, mother being sick so many years before she died, kept us very poor. I only go to the district school winters. Then I have to walk four miles each way, for we own no horse. Summers I help father with the boats.”
“That’s where you got such palms! cried Wyn, touching her new friend’s calloused hands again.
“It’s rowing does it. But I don’t mind. I love the water, you see.”
“So do I. I’ve got a canoe. I’m captain of a girls’ canoe club.”
“That’s nice,” said Polly. “I suppose when you take up boating for just a sport it’s lots better than trying to make one’s living out of it.”
“Well, tell me more,” urged Wyn. “What are you in town for now? Why did I find you crying here on the bench?”
“A man hurt me by talking harshly about poor father,” said the girl from Lake Honotonka.
“Come on! tell me,” urged Wyn, giving her a little shake. Polly suddenly threw an arm about the town girl and hugged her tightly.