Why did they keep talking about the beauty soap and about Miss Prindle going into the movies? I wondered.
When Tom and I arrived at the mill at the conclusion of the day’s school, the soap man had Romeo hitched to the buggy. We got in, one on each side of the driver, with the satchel of soap at our feet.
“Git up,” the old man clucked, flapping the lines, and in response Romeo sort of collected his wabbly joints and leaned forward until he was in motion.
“We’ll go over in the Crandon neighborhood,” [[186]]I spoke up. “Follow this road to the first turn, then go to the right.”
It was four-thirty when we came within sight of the Crandon farm. Taking six cakes of beauty soap in my hands, I scrambled out of the buggy in front of the farmhouse, motioning to Tom to follow me.
“You wait here in the road,” I told the soap man.
When Mrs. Crandon, a cousin of Dad’s, opened the door, Tom and I stepped quickly into the farmhouse kitchen. I had been here a number of times to Sunday dinners. Chicken and hot biscuits and gravy. Um-yum! The thought of it made me hungry.
“I’ve been expecting you, Jerry. Your wheel’s here.”
“I know it.”
“How did you come out?” she smiled, curious.