Where the frankfurter man had been with his wagon away up this country road, the girls did not know; but before they overtook him they smelled the warm sausages and saw that the top of his boxlike wagon was covered over with a glass case and that everything was clean about his outfit.
So eager and hungry were they that Tess and Dot fairly trotted through the hot dust to overtake the man. He was a short, sturdy man in a blue shirt, khaki trousers, and a broad-brimmed straw hat. When Tom Jonah bounded along beside him, sniffing in a friendly fashion, he turned around and saw the girls.
“How-de-do!” he said, smiling. “You want a hot frankfurter, little girls?”
“Yes, sir,” said Dot, frankly.
“Oh, we can’t, sir—not till we get to Willowbend Camp,” Tess hastened to say, squeezing Dot’s hand admonishingly.
Dot’s lower lip trembled and the man asked:
“Why can’t you have ’em now?”
“We—we should have to ask Ruthie,” said Tess, slowly.
“Who’s she?”
“Our sister. We—we don’t carry any money in these old clothes. She’s afraid we’ll lose it out of our pockets,” said Tess, honestly.