“No, ’cause he never come this road, yet. He mapped it out, once, and said he would try it some day. That’s why he told me which road to foller today.”
The girl had disappeared but was coming back by this time. She climbed upon the picket gate and hung over it, as she called out: “My ma’s kneadin’ bread an’ can’t get out, this minit. She says if you want somethun, fer you to come in and see her!”
This invitation sufficed for all five to instantly get out of the car and lift the latch on the gate. The girl never budged from her perch, but permitted the visitors to swing her back as the gate was opened.
“Go right to the side door,” advised she, holding on to the pickets.
As invited, the collectors went to the side door and Mrs. Fabian knocked timidly. “Come in!” said a shrill voice from within.
The lady of the house had plump arms elbow-deep in dough. She glanced up and nodded in a business-like manner. “Did yer come fer fresh aigs?” asked she, punching the dough positively.
“If you have any for sale, I should like to take a dozen,” returned Mrs. Fabian, politely. Polly and Dodo stared in surprise at their chaperone, but Eleanor and Nancy comprehended at once, why this reply was made.
“Wait a minute, will yuh, and I’ll get this job off my hands afore I go fer the aigs.”
Eleanor laughed humorously as she remarked: “It looks like dough on your hands.”
The woman laughed appreciatively, while the others smiled. “That’s right! It’s dough, all right. I s’pose you folks are from nearby, eh?”