“Hm! Are de—deficiencies holes, Mr. David?”
“In a sense, lad.”
“Where’d be the fun, though,” my loyal lad cried out, “if there weren’t no holes in cabins. There’d be nothing to patch. An’ you’d never see a rat poke his cunning head through the wall cold nights when you sit by the fire. Pooh! I like de—deficiencies.”
That very day I went about setting what traps I had to catch the rodents that were destroying Mrs. Olds’ peace of mind. And I began the manufacture of others. I also mended the screen doors, and purchased a package of mosquito netting from Wanza’s cart, for the windows.
It was a curious ménage I captained. I found myself grinning from time to time as I took orders from Mrs. Olds. Although I was in love with Haidee, and although Joey was an entertaining companion, and although I found Mrs. Olds’ pessimism a curious study, it was to Wanza that I turned most frequently for comfort and advice during these trying days. We had many a rueful laugh together at Mrs. Olds’ expense.
“The whole thing with her, I do think,” Wanza said, one day, “is drawing her pay.”
But Wanza maligned her. Mrs. Olds was a rare nurse, conscientious to a fault. And she received little enough pay from the big man, I knew. Wanza had a cot in the cedar room now, and Mrs. Olds was able to rest the greater part of the night, as her patient’s condition improved.
CHAPTER XIV
JACK OF ALL TRADES
IN due time I received another communication from my unknown friend. Very brief it was. It said:
“I appreciate your confidence. I am glad to know of Haidee. But I want still more to know of yourself. Can you trust me?”