“Yes, in lots of lumber-camps.”
“How many?”
“Nineteen. At least, we moved nineteen times.”
It was hard not to be interested now. One close question followed another regarding the surroundings of her girlhood. The answers were so detailed, so sharply remembered, that the next question was natural.
“If you remember like that, you must have kept a diary.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Yes, always. I do still.”
“Then it is not the book I want, but the diary.”
She caught her breath. “It’s destroyed. It’s all torn up.” Tears were in her eyes.
“You loved it?”
“Yes; I told it everything.”