“Shall I run over and ask about them?”
“N-no, I don’t think you’d better, dear. I dare say she’s just too upset to get things baked. I know myself how contrary ovens will act when you can’t give your whole mind to them. Maybe she’ll be over in a little while.”
Miss Comfort remained the subject of conversation for another ten minutes, and then Laurie, suddenly realizing that it was alarmingly close to dinner-time, winked meaningly at Mrs. Deane, said good night, and bolted. This time he made no attempt to avoid Bob Starling. Bob, however, was not in sight as Laurie sped by the big house.
“I’ll telephone him to come over after dinner,” reflected Laurie. “I sort of promised to let him in on it. Besides, I’ll bet it costs a lot to telegraph to Iowa!”
CHAPTER VI
LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH
But Laurie didn’t have to telephone to Bob. Bob was waiting in No. 16 when the twins returned from supper. There had been no opportunity to take Ned into his confidence in dining-hall, and, since Laurie wouldn’t have thought of embarking on even the most inconsequential enterprise without his brother’s aid, the first step, as he now saw it, was to put Ned in possession of the facts. So, closing and locking the door in the manner of a conspirator, Laurie faced the eager Bob and the mystified Ned and began the recital of the pathetic story of Miss Comfort. And, as Laurie told it, it certainly was pathetic. Having found, as he believed, a way of making good his boast to Bob the day before, he set out determinedly to win his hearers to the cause. He not only wanted moral aid and counsel but pecuniary assistance in the matter of that telegram to Sioux City! So he made a very moving story of it, picturing Miss Comfort as a penniless and hard-working little woman battling heroically against the tides of adversity with unfaltering courage, Mr. Goupil as a monster of cruelty, and Mr. Goupil’s lawyer as a fiend in human form. Miss Comfort’s age was now given as “over eighty,” an estimate that caused Bob to gasp. Laurie even attempted to dwell on the horrors of existence for a well bred lady like Miss Comfort on the poor-farm. But, never having had close acquaintance with such an institution, he had to confine himself to generalities and dark insinuations, and, discovering that his audience was not as much impressed as he meant them to be, he wisely switched back to Miss Comfort herself and told how in the winter, too poverty-stricken to buy coal for the furnace, she lived in the kitchen, while her brother-in-law, rolling in riches, gave her no thought.
Ned, who, at the beginning of the narrative, had worn a smile of careless, tolerant amusement, was soon frowning troubledly. Then indignation swelled within him, and he glowered darkly upon Laurie as though the latter was all to blame for Miss Comfort’s plight. Bob appeared moved almost to tears. As an orator Laurie did himself proud on that occasion. By the time he had finished he was almost as much moved as his hearers.
There had been, of course, interruptions, but they had been few, and Laurie had waved them aside. Now, at the end, both Ned and Bob wanted many things explained to them. Thanks, however, to his talk that afternoon with Mrs. Deane and, later, with Polly, Laurie was in a position to answer all questions promptly and lucidly. When, as infrequently occurred, his knowledge was insufficient, he answered just the same. He grudgingly struck off ten years from Miss Comfort’s age at Bob’s behest, but to all other statements he clung tenaciously.
“Another thing I don’t understand,” said Ned, “is why some of the folks she knows don’t give her a home. There must be lots of people in Orstead who would be glad to take her in.”