“I do!” cried Polly, getting out to go after him.
At the open door of the humble dwelling, the two looked in and saw the house-wife bending over a cook-stove, turning some doughnuts in a pan of hot fat. Jimmy waited until she had finished and then said: “May we have a drink, if you please?”
His smile and manner were very pleasing, and Polly saw how people fell before his winsome way. “Just a minute—I’ll draw some fresh cold water for you,” said the woman.
“Oh, do let me help you!” exclaimed Jimmy, whipping off his cap as he hurried through the room to carry the pail the woman had taken.
The two of them went out to the back-shed where the water ran, and filled the pail. Meanwhile, Polly gazed about the interior of the little house. She saw several objects which might be old pieces, so she wondered how she could get Mr. Fabian there to judge.
As Jimmy came in, carrying the pail, and the woman held a tin dipper for the tourists, he remarked as he passed the cook-stove: “My, how good those doughnuts smell.” And he sniffed.
“You shall hov some!” declared the woman, laughingly.
“Oh no! I couldn’t think of it,” objected Jimmy, hoping all the time to be persuaded into taking some.
“I knows what young boys’ appetites is like,” chaffed the woman, taking a large platter from the corner cupboard and piling a heap of doughnuts upon it.
Jimmy laughingly protested, but she waved him out and followed at his heels. When they reached the cars, she proffered the platter to the gentlemen first. Polly tried to get Mr. Fabian’s eye to tell him about the furniture in the cottage.