Meanwhile she had opened the gate and invited the Corner House girls into the yard. There was an arbor which was already shaded by quick-growing vines. The little kitchen garden, with its border of gooseberries and currants, was as neat as it could be.
“I gotter cow of my own out back, and hens, too. I make a bare livin’ in winter, and put frills onto it in summer,” and the old lady laughed. “These folks from the city that come livin’ in tents here, like my bread and cookies.”
“That is what we have come to arrange for, Mrs. Bobster,” said Ruth.
“I dunno. Most all I can comferbly bake three times a week, is bespoke,” said the little old woman who lived in a shoe. “How many is there in your fam’bly, Miss?”
When she heard that there were just four of them—these girls alone—and that they were to live by themselves in a tent, she grew greatly interested.
“Surely I’ll bake for you—and cookies, too. Maybe a fruit pie oncet in a while—’specially if you’ll go over beyond the bend when berries is ripe and pick ’em yourself. And you gals a-livin’ all alone? Sho! I’d think you’d be scaret to death.”
“Why, no!” said Ruth. “Why should we?”
“After dark,” said the old woman, shaking her hand.
“Who would hurt us?” asked the Corner House girl in wonder.
“Can’t most always sometimes tell,” said the old woman, shaking her head.