The cowboy’s face brightened. “Say, that’s a bingo-fine idea! That school had to close because we hadn’t any children. All we need are eight youngsters to reopen it. Let’s see, there are the twins, Jackie will make three.” Then, anxiously he glanced at Mary. “How soon can Baby Bess go to school?”
“She’d have to go if Etta did,” was the laughing reply.
Dora suggested, “Couldn’t there be a kindergarten department?”
“I reckon so.” The cowboy’s face was troubled. “Four kids aren’t eight.”
Dick, remembering something Mr. Newcomb told his wife, inquired, “Jerry, your dad asked your mother if she minded having a cowboy next winter who had a wife and six children.”
“Jolly-O!” Dora cried. “What did Mrs. Newcomb say?”
It was Mary who replied, “You know what dear, big-hearted Aunt Mollie would say. I can almost hear her tell Uncle Henry that ‘the more the merrier.’”
“Of course,” Jerry told them, “even if we can work the school plan, the salary is mighty small. It wouldn’t more than pay their grocery bill but it’ll help all right, along with—”
Mary caught the cowboy’s arm, her expression alarmed. “Jerry, what if there isn’t any money in that rock house after our planning?”
“Tomorrow we will know,” Dick said. Then, as the young nun reappeared, they arose and thanked her for the good meal. Dora noticed that as Dick passed out he dropped a coin in a little box labeled, FOR THE POOR.