The other two proceeded to the company house, as the superintendent’s quarters were called.
“Well,” said the lady, as they began to pack the two men’s belongings, “I expected to get this house ready for a bride and groom but I must say I wasn’t looking for a lone woman. And yet if I’d had my wits about me I might have known. Only last night Dolores and me were running the Ouija and it says—look out for trouble—just as plain as that!”
“I shouldn’t call her anything as bad as that,” said Hard, crossing to where the photograph of Polly Street hung over the fireplace.
The picture showed a small girl, probably about ten or eleven; a fat little girl with chubby legs only half covered with socks, and with dimples in the knees; a little girl with very wide open eyes and a plump face, a firmly shaped mouth and a serious expression; a little girl with frizzly hair and freckles that the photographer had failed to retouch, in a costume consisting of a short skirt, middy, and tam-o’-shanter.
“I wouldn’t call her a trouble maker,” said Hard, laughing, “unless she’s changed a lot in ten years.”
CHAPTER III
EN ROUTE
To say that the days which followed Miss Street’s unconventional decision passed in a whirl is to be both trite and truthful. In fact, it was not until she had crossed the border that she found leisure to reflect.