“The wear and tear would eat up the profits,” he would declare. “Give it away or burn it up but don’t rent it for a boarding house.”
And so the great house with its luxurious furnishings remained empty, sad and gloomy in its isolation and desertion while its owner lived in the Higgledy Piggledy Shop, a good part of the day busily plying her clever needle fashioning hats and bonnets for the ladies of Dorfield and, after five o’clock, donning her little white apron and serving tea and cinnamon toast, waffles and hot chocolate to the hungry treating trysters.
Months went by. Spring was in the air. Electric fans must be installed at the Higgledy Piggledy to keep the balcony cool, the menu changed somewhat to suit the weather. Business was flourishing.
“If we could rent the big house we could afford to put an awning on that old back porch that is nothing more than a dirt catcher now,” sighed Mary Louise, whose ideas for improvement in the business made Josie clap her hands with delight.
Josie was rather glad the big house had not been rented. The loss of the Colonel’s money was ever on her mind and she spent much time studying the case and wondering if she could have overlooked any spot in or about the house where gold might have been concealed. Of one thing she was sure and that was he could not have buried it in the yard. Manual labor was never Colonel Hathaway’s strong point and Josie doubted that he could have handled a pick and shovel any better than a new born baby. She hoped she could give the place another thorough going over before a tenant took possession.
Uncle Peter Conant scorned the imputation that his old friend had concealed actual cash anywhere. He was inclined to think he had bought heavily in some gold mines he talked about and then had mislaid all papers connected with the deal. It was rather strange that no clue to the gold mines could be found. The Colonel seemed to have been the only purchaser in stock of such mines. At least, Mr. Conant, after diligent inquiry, could find out nothing about anyone else being involved. The good old man was sorely puzzled.
“Jim Hathaway always was close-mouthed about his affairs but I was certainly an unneighborly fool not to have questioned him some about his business when I felt all the time he was not quite himself. I was afraid of intruding. Thinking about myself and not about dear little Mary Louise!” he would reproach himself.
Not many hours after Mary Louise had spoken of the desirability of putting an awning over the old back porch and enlarging their possibilities for tea service, the telephone rang with a message from a real estate agent saying a tenant had been found for the Hathaway house, a gentleman and his son. The gentleman was blind and wanted a quiet retreat for a few months. He was not willing to take a long lease on the house, as he expected to go abroad a little later on. Mr. Conant advised Mary Louise to accept the proposition. Certainly a blind gentleman and his young son could not do much damage to a furnished house and it was better to get some one in for even one month than let the property lie idle, eating its head off with taxes and insurance.
Mary Louise accepted the tenant joyfully.
“Now we can have an awning and some pretty wicker furniture for the porch!” she exclaimed. “The agent says he has insisted upon their paying in advance.”