It was Ma Parmalee who first suggested that Lucy sell on the commission plan. “I’ve got thirty-five jars of the best kind of preserves and canned goods in Elmhurst,” she announced one day, when she had stopped on her way by the crossroads to look over the new establishment. “Most of them are pints, and besides I’ve got—land, I don’t know how many glasses of jelly and jam. I’d be willing to give you a good share of whatever you could make on them, if you could sell them off for me down here.”
Lucy agreed gladly, and the fruit made a splendid showing along the upper shelves behind the counters. Not only that, but it began to sell at once. Mr. Ormond bought up all of the canned peaches after sampling one jar, and Ralph said he was willing to become responsible for some of the strawberry jam and spiced pears. Before long, Lucy was looking around for more supplies.
One morning, just after Tommy had gone whistling out to the barn, Doris spied a familiar figure coming along the drive toward the house, and leaned out of the dining room window, calling with all her heart, “Hi, Billie!”
Billie waved back and came up to the back steps where he found the other girls. “The camp’s immense,” he said. “We got in late last night and I knew the way down, so we didn’t disturb anybody. Even found the old boat in the same place, Doris.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t hauled it there, where I knew you could lay your hands on it.”
Billie laughed. He knew from past experience that Doris’s scoldings didn’t amount to much. He and Frank had brought up a load of supplies with them but huckleberry pancakes with honey lured them both up for breakfast that first morning. And even Kit was silent as Frank related all of his adventures during the year. It seemed to her that she had never really looked at him before, that is, to get the best impression, without prejudice. Now, she realized he was quite good-looking and she noted for the first time his curly yellow hair, and long, half-closed blue eyes, that always seemed to be laughing at you. He had dimples, too, and these Kit resented.
“I can’t abide dimples in a boy’s face,” she declared privately to Jean, when the latter was dwelling on Frank’s good looks.
“But, Kit, Buzzy has dimples, and you always thought he was such a swell guy.”
“Well, he’s different,” Kit said lamely. “I don’t think I like blond, curly hair, either.”
They had walked down to the Peckham mill after supper to get some supplies that Danny Peckham had promised to bring up from Nantic. Just as they came to the turn of the road there came a strange sound from the direction of the waterfall cabin, deep, rich strains of music, almost as low-pitched and thrilling as the sound of the water itself. Both girls stood still listening, until Jean whispered, “It must be Mr. Ormond. He’s playing on a cello, isn’t he?”