“Sure,” Randy told them, cheerfully. “Walk right in.”
“The door is up here in front, girls.” Jean led the way, and the girls climbed up in front. There was canvas stretched over bows to make a roof, and in the back end a window was cut. It was quite comfortable, with its bunk, and cupboard, and boxes. Randy had colored pictures tacked up here and there, and some old magazines lay in one corner on top of a pair of gray blankets.
“It makes me think of a gypsy wagon,” Polly said. “I saw one of them once at a camp up near Richmond. Aunt Evelyn lives there, you know, girls, and grandfather took me to visit her when I was about ten. The wagon was like this, only inside it was hung with yellow silk curtains, and lace over it.”
“These seats lift up like lockers,” said Peggie. “In the winter, they have a stove in here too, and it’s cosy, but pretty lonely. Sometimes there’s months and months when the herders never see a human being.”
“The boys are sure to ride over soon, Randy,” Jean promised when they were ready to leave on the home journey. “I’ll tell them to bring some stuff to read.”
“I’m out of baking powder, too,” Randy remarked, casually. “Can’t make decent pancakes without baking powder.”
“All right, I’ll remember,” laughed Jean, and they rode away.
“I should think he’d be terribly lonesome,” Ted said.
They Never Forgot That Picture