“I see,” said Kitty with a significant nod. “And in the meantime I suppose the garbage is hauled off somewhere in the marshes and burned?”
“That’s right.” Suddenly her father’s face became very serious, and he sent her a penetrating glance. “What are you driving at, Kitty, with all these strange questions?”
“Haven’t time to explain now,” she said evasively. For so long Kitty had had to solve her own problems, when her father was at distant stations, that she had not yet learned how to make a confidant of him. Nor did she want to run the risk of having him put a stop to her investigations. But she made bold to ask one further question.
“Do you know where they haul the garbage, Dad?”
He led her to the window and pointed across the marshes. “See that smoke on the horizon.”
“Yonder—way south?”
“That’s it. That’s where they burn it.”
“Why so far away?”
“We couldn’t stand the stench if it was too close. Even at that distance a southwest wind will bring the odor into my window. I’ll surely be thankful when they use the incinerator again.”
Kitty’s mind was clicking like a teletype machine as she left the hospital. She hadn’t used their boat in a week, and felt she was entitled to a little gasoline for explorations.