At this point, a companion called to the boy, and he strolled away.
“Like to go?” asked Jack, who had not been unobservant of Desiré’s eager interest.
“How could we? We haven’t any pies.”
“There must be some place to buy them. Surely some enterprising person would foresee the market. Let’s look around a bit.”
He tied the horses to a post and locked the doors. René was wide awake by this time, and eager for new adventures; so the four, Priscilla still silent, walked along the streets of the little town until they found a place bearing a sign—“Pies for sale.” Here they purchased four pies, and turned their steps toward the church. At the door a pretty girl took their donations, and they were allowed to enter. Along the sides of the little basement were rough board counters loaded with pies of every size and variety. One could buy whatever one desired, from a whole pie to a small slice.
“We’re like the Chinese,” smiled Jack, as they stood eating pieces of custard pie; “dessert first, then more substantial food.”
The pretty girl who had been at the door now approached them, and smiling at Jack, said—“We’re going to dance here tonight after all the pies are sold. Hope you will all stay.”
“I’m sorry, but we shall not be able to,” he replied courteously. “I have old Simon’s wagon out there, and can’t leave it so long.”
“Oh, we heard about the young man who was going to take Simon’s route. My folks know him real well. He often puts the wagon in our barn and stays all night at our house. Why—wait a minute.”
She darted off, and returned almost immediately with a short, thick-set man, who looked like a farmer.