“He drove her out of the woodshed three times yesterday,” said the little girl. “And Joe tried to throw water on her, but she flew off a-squawking and Joe splashed the water over himself.” She broke into a delighted giggle at the recollection of Joe’s discomfiture, and Peggy smiled in sympathy with her evident enjoyment. Peggy’s heart was tender to all children, and this small, communicative creature was so nearly Dorothy’s size as to appeal to her especially.
“I think you are about the age of my little niece,” said Peggy in her usual friendly fashion. “You must come to play with her some day. You see, she is the only little girl among a lot of big ones, and she might get lonely.”
“I’ll come along with you this afternoon,” said the child readily, whereat Rosetta Muriel uttered a horrified gasp, and her mother hastily interposed.
“Annie Cole! You won’t do any such thing. Folks that snap up invitations like a chicken does a grasshopper, ain’t going to be asked out very often.”
It was arranged that Peggy should carry home a basket of provisions for the evening meal, and that Joe should come over in the morning with a larger supply, bringing at the same time the yellow hen who was desirous of assuming the cares of a family. During the discussion of these practical matters, Rosetta Muriel had maintained a disdainful silence. But when Mrs. Cole went to pack a basket, the daughter, for the first time, took an active part in the conversation.
“I guess you’ll find it pretty dull up here, with no moving picture shows nor nothing.”
Peggy disclaimed the idea in haste. “Dull! I think it’s perfectly lovely. I couldn’t think of missing anything up here, except folks, you know.”
“Moving pictures ain’t any rarity to me,” said Rosetta Muriel, trying to appear sophisticated. “I’ve seen ’em lots of times. But I get awfully tired of the country. I’ve got a friend who clerks in a store in your town. Maybe you know her. Her name’s Cummings, Gladys Cummings.”
Peggy had never met Miss Cummings, and said so. Rosetta Muriel went on with her description.
“It’s an awful stylish store where she works, Case and Rosenstein’s. And Gladys, she’s awfully stylish, too. She looks as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion plate.” And something in her inflection suggested even to Peggy that from Rosetta Muriel’s standpoint, she had failed to live up to her opportunities. Certainly in a gingham frock two seasons old, and faded by frequent washings, Peggy did not remotely suggest those large-eyed ladies of willowy figure, so seldom met with outside the sheets of fashion periodicals.