The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wishing Well, by Mildred A. Wirt This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Wishing Well Author: Mildred A. Wirt Release Date: December 18, 2010 [EBook #34689] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WISHING WELL *** Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Brenda Lewis and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net The Wishing Well The Wishing Well By MILDRED A. WIRT Author of MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS Illustrated CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY Publishers NEW YORK PENNY PARKER MYSTERY STORIES Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER THE SECRET PACT THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN THE WISHING WELL SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER GHOST BEYOND THE GATE HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE VOICE FROM THE CAVE GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES SIGNAL IN THE DARK WHISPERING WALLS SWAMP ISLAND THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT COPYRIGHT, 1942, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO. The Wishing Well PRINTED IN U. S. A. CHAPTER 1 AN OLD HOUSE 2 BY THE COVERED WELL 3 CHICKEN DINNER 4 A RECORD ON ROCK 5 STRANGERS FROM TEXAS 6 A WISH FULFILLED 7 PENNY’S DISCOVERY 8 A MOVING LIGHT 9 MYSTERIOUS PROWLERS 10 BENEATH THE FLAGSTONES 11 JAY FRANKLIN’S TRICKERY 12 NO ADMITTANCE 13 A SILKEN LADDER 14 NIGHT ADVENTURE 15 OLD BOTTLES 16 INSIDE THE MANSION 17 THE MARBOROUGH PEARLS 18 SIGNBOARD INDIANS 19 PUBLICITY PLUS 20 RHODA’S PROBLEM HE WHEELED AND RAN OUT THE OPEN DOOR. HE WHEELED AND RAN OUT THE OPEN DOOR. “The Wishing Well” (See Page 199) CONTENTS PAGE 1 10 21 27 39 46 54 62 70 79 86 94 101 110 117 124 133 140 149 158 21 MRS. MARBOROUGH’S LOSS 22 THE MISSING NECKLACE 23 GRAND BALL 24 RIVER RISING 25 PRECIOUS CARGO [1] [2] 168 175 185 195 202 CHAPTER 1 AN OLD HOUSE At her desk in the assembly room of Riverview High School, Penny Parker sat poised for instant flight. Her books had been stacked away, and she awaited only the closing bell to liberate her from a day of study. “Now don’t forget!” she whispered to her chum, Louise Sidell, who occupied the desk directly behind. “We start for the old Marborough place right away!” The dismissal bell tapped. Penny bolted down the aisle and was one of the first to reach the door. However, hearing her name called, she was forced to pause. “Penelope, will you wait a moment please?” requested the teacher in charge of assembly. “Yes, Miss Nelson,” Penny dutifully responded, but she shot her chum a glance of black despair. “What have you done now?” Louise demanded in an accusing whisper. “Not a thing,” muttered Penny. “About ten minutes ago I clipped Fred Green with a paper ball, but I don’t think she saw me.” “Get out of it as fast as you can,” Louise urged. “Unless we start for the Marborough place within half an hour we’ll have to postpone the trip.” While the other pupils filed slowly from the room, Penny slumped back into her seat. She was a tall, slim girl with mischievous blue eyes which hinted of an active mind. Golden hair was accented by a brown sweater caught at the throat with a conspicuous ornament, a weird looking animal made of leather. “Penelope, I don’t suppose you know why I asked you to remain,” observed the teacher, slowly coming down the aisle. “Why, no, Miss Nelson.” Penny was far too wise to make damaging admissions. “I want to talk to you about Rhoda Wiegand.” “About Rhoda?” Penny echoed, genuinely surprised. The girl was a new student at Riverview, somewhat older than the members of her class, and lived in a trailer camp at the outskirts of the city. Miss Nelson seated herself at a desk opposite Penny, thus indicating that she meant the talk to be friendly and informal. [3] [4] “Penelope,” she resumed, “you are president of the Palette Club. Why has Rhoda never been taken in as a member? She is one of our most talented art students.” “Some of the girls don’t seem to like Rhoda very well,” Penny answered, squirming uncomfortably. “We did talk about taking her into the club, but nothing came of it.” “As president of the organization, couldn’t you arrange it?” “I suppose so,” Penny admitted, frowning thoughtfully. “Why do the girls dislike Rhoda?” “There doesn’t seem to be any special reason for it.” “Her poverty, perhaps?” “I don’t think it’s that,” Penny defended the club members. “Rhoda is so quiet that the girls have never become acquainted with her.” “Then I suggest that they make an immediate effort,” Miss Nelson ended the interview. “The Palette Club has no right to an existence unless it welcomes members with real art talent.” A group of girls awaited Penny when she reached the locker room. They eagerly plied her with questions as to why she had been detained by the teacher. “I’ll tell you later,” Penny promised. At the other side of the room Rhoda Wiegand was removing a coat from her locker. A sober-faced girl of seventeen, she wore a faded blue dress which seemed to draw all color from her thin face. Knowing that she was not well liked, she seldom spoke or forced herself upon the other students. “Rhoda,” began Penny, paying no heed to the amazed glances of her friends, “the Palette Club is having a meeting this afternoon at the old Marborough place. Why not come with us?” The older girl turned quickly, a smile of surprise and pleasure brightening her face. “Oh, I should love to go, only I don’t think—” Hesitating, she gazed at the other girls who were eyeing her in a none too friendly way. Penny gave Louise Sidell a little pinch. Her chum, understanding what was expected, said with as much warmth as she could: “Yes, do come, Rhoda. We plan to sketch the old wishing well.” “I have enough drawing material for both of us,” Penny added persuasively. “If you really want me, of course I’ll come!” Rhoda accepted, her voice rather tremulous. “I’ve heard about the Marborough homestead, and always longed to see it.” A group of subdued girls gathered their belongings from the lockers, preparing to leave the school grounds. No one understood why Penny had invited Rhoda to attend the outing, and the act had not been a popular one. Boarding a bus, the twelve members of the Palette Club soon reached the end of the line, and from there walked a quarter of a mile into the country. Penny and Louise chose Rhoda as their companion, trying to make her feel at ease. Conversation became [5] [6] [7] rather difficult and they were relieved when, at length, they approached their destination. “There’s the old house,” Penny said, indicating a steep pitched roof-top which could be seen rising above a jungle of tall oaks. “It’s been unoccupied for at least ten years now.” The Marborough homestead, a handsome dwelling of pre-Civil war day, long had been Riverview’s most outstanding architectural curiosity. Only in a vague way was Penny familiar with its history. The property had been named Rose Acres and its mistress, Mrs. James Marborough, had moved from the city many years before, allowing the house to stand unpainted and untended. Once so beautifully kept, the grounds had become a tangle of weeds and untrimmed bushes. Even so, the old plantation home with its six graceful pillars, retained dignity and beauty. Entering the yard through a space where a gate once had stood, the girls gazed about with interest. Framed in a clump of giant azaleas was the statue of an Indian girl with stone feathers in her hair. Beyond, they caught a glimpse of the river which curved around the south side of the grounds in a wide bend. “Where is the old wishing well?” Rhoda inquired. “I’ve heard so much about it.” “We’re coming to it now,” Penny replied, leading the way down an avenue of oak trees. Not far from the house stood the old-fashioned covered well. Its base was of cut stone and on a bronze plate had been engraved the words: “If you do a good deed, you can make a wish and it will come true.” “Some people around Riverview really believe that this old well has the power to make wishes come true,” Louise Sidell remarked, peering at her reflection mirrored in the water far below. “In the past years when Mrs. Marborough lived here, it had quite a reputation.” “The water is still good if you don’t mind a few germs,” Penny added with a laugh. “I see that someone has replaced the bucket. There was none here the last time I came.” By means of the long sweep, she lowered the receptacle and brought it up filled with water. “Make a wish, Penny,” one of her friends urged. “Maybe it will come true.” “Everyone knows what she’ll ask for!” teased Louise. “Her desires are always the same—a bigger weekly allowance!” Penny smiled as she drew a dipper of water from the wooden bucket. “How about the good deed?” she inquired lightly. “I’ve done nothing worthy of a demand upon this old well.” “You helped your father round up a group of Night Riders,” Louise reminded her. “Remember the big story you wrote for the Riverview Star which was titled: The Clock Strikes Thirteen?” “I did prevent Clyde Blake from tricking a number of people in this community,” Penny acknowledged. “Perhaps that entitles me to a wish.” Drinking deeply from the dipper, she poured the last drops into the [8] [9] well, watching as they made concentric circles in the still water below. “Old well, do your stuff and grant my wish,” she entreated. “Please get busy right away.” “But what is your wish, Penny?” demanded one of the girls. “You have to tell.” “All right, I wish that this old Marborough property could be restored to its former beauty.” “You believe in making hard ones,” Louise laughed. “I doubt that this place ever will be fixed up again—at least not until after the property changes hands.” “It’s Rhoda’s turn now,” Penny said, offering the dipper to her. The older girl stepped to the edge of the well, her face very serious. “Do you think wishes really do come true?” she asked thoughtfully. “Oh, it’s only for the fun of it,” Louise responded. “But they do say that in the old days, this well had remarkable powers. At least many persons came here to make wishes which they claimed came true. I couldn’t believe in it myself.” Rhoda stood for a moment gazing down into the well. Drinking from the dipper, she allowed a few drops to spatter into the deep cavern below. “I wish—” she said in a low, tense voice—“I wish that some day Pop and Mrs. Breen will be repaid for looking after my brother and me. I wish that they may have more money for food and clothes and a few really nice things.” An awkward, embarrassing silence descended upon the group of girls. Everyone knew that Rhoda and her younger brother, Ted, lived at a trailer camp with a family unrelated to them, but not even Penny had troubled to learn additional details. From Rhoda’s wish it was apparent to all that the Breens were in dire poverty. “It’s your turn now, Louise,” Penny said quickly. Louise accepted the dipper. Without drinking, she tossed all the water into the well, saying gaily: “I wish Penny would grow long ears and a tail! It would serve her right for solving so many mystery cases!” The other girls made equally frivolous wishes. Thereafter, they abandoned fun for serious work, getting out their sketching materials. Penny and Louise began to draw the old well, but Rhoda, intrigued by the classical beauty of the house, decided to try to transfer it to paper. “You do nice work,” Penny praised, gazing over the older girl’s shoulder. “The rest of us can’t begin to match it.” “You may have the sketch when I finish,” Rhoda offered. As she spoke, the girls were startled to hear a commotion in the bushes behind the house. Chickens began to cackle, and to their ears came the sound of pounding feet. Suddenly, from the direction of the river, a young man darted into view, pursued by an elderly man who was less agile. To the girls, it [10] [11] was immediately apparent why the youth was being chased, for he carried a fat hen beneath his arm, and ran with hat pulled low over his face. “A chicken thief!” Penny exclaimed, springing to her feet. “Come on, girls, let’s head him off!” CHAPTER 2 BY THE COVERED WELL Seeing the group of girls by the wishing well, the youth swerved, and fled in the opposite direction. Darting into the woods, he ran so swiftly that Penny realized pursuit would be futile. “Who was he?” she questioned the others. “Did any of you recognize him?” “I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere,” Louise Sidell declared. “Were you able to see his face, Rhoda?” The older girl did not answer, for at that moment the man who had pursued the boy ran into the yard. Breathing hard, he paused near the well. “Did you see a boy come through here?” he asked abruptly. “The rascal stole one of my good layin’ hens.” “We saw him,” Penny answered, “but I’m sure you’ll never overtake him now. He ran into the woods.” “Reckon you’re right,” the man muttered, seating himself on the stone rim of the wishing well. “I’m tuckered.” Taking out a red- bandana handkerchief, he wiped perspiration from his forehead. Penny thought that she recognized the man as a stonecutter who lived in a shack at the river’s edge. He was a short, muscular individual, strong despite his age, with hands roughened by hard labor. His face had been browned by wind and sun; gray eyes squinted as if ever viewing the world with suspicion and hate. “Aren’t you Truman Crocker?” Penny inquired curiously. “That’s my tag,” the stonecutter answered, drawing himself a drink of water from the well. “What are you young ’uns doing here?” “Oh, our club came to sketch,” Penny returned. “You live close by, don’t you?” “Down yonder,” the man replied, draining the dipper in a thirsty gulp. “I been haulin’ stone all day. It’s a hard way to make a living, let me tell you. Then I come home to find that young rascal making off with my chickens!” “Do you know who he was?” asked Louise. “No, but this ain’t the first time he’s paid me a visit. Last week he stole one of my best Rhode Island Reds. I’m plumb disgusted.” [12] [13] Rhoda abruptly arose from the grass, gathering together her sketching materials. As if to put an end to the conversation, she remarked: “It will soon be dark, girls. I think I should start home.” “We’ll all be leaving in a few minutes,” Penny replied. “Let’s look around a bit more though, before we go.” “You won’t see nothin’ worth lookin’ at around here,” the stonecutter said contemptuously. “This old house ain’t much any more. There’s good lumber in it though, and the foundation has some first class stone.” “You speak as if you had designs on it,” Penny laughed. “It would be a shame to tear down a beautiful old house such as this.” “What’s it good for?” the man shrugged. “There ain’t no one lived here in ten or twelve years. Not since the old lady went off.” “Did you know Mrs. Marborough?” “Oh, we said howdy to each other when we’d meet, but that was the size of it. The old lady didn’t like me none and I thought the same of her. She never wanted my chickens runnin’ over her yard. Ain’t it a pity she can’t see ’em now?” With a throaty sound, half chuckle, half sneer, the man arose and walked with the girls around the house. “If you want to look inside, there’s a shutter off on the east livin’ room window,” he informed. “Everything’s just like the old lady left it.” “You don’t mean the furniture is still in the house!” Rhoda exclaimed incredulously. “There ain’t nothing been changed. I never could figure why someone didn’t come in an’ haul off her stuff, but it’s stood all these years.” Their curiosity aroused, the girls hastened to the window that Truman Crocker had mentioned. Flattening her face against the dirty pane, Penny peered inside. “He’s right!” she announced. “The furniture is still covered by sheets! Why, that’s funny.” “What is?” inquired Louise impatiently. “There’s a lady’s hat lying on the table!” “It must be quite out of style by this time,” Louise laughed. “A new hat,” Penny said with emphasis. “And a purse lying beside it!” At the other side of the house, an outside door squeaked. Turning around, the group of girls stared almost as if they were gazing at a ghost. An old lady in a long blue silk dress with lace collar and cuffs, stepped out onto the veranda. She gazed beyond the girls toward Truman Crocker who leaned against a tree. Seeing the woman, he straightened to alert attention. “If it ain’t Priscilla Marborough!” he exclaimed. “You’ve come back!” “I certainly have returned,” the old lady retorted with no friendliness in her voice. “High time someone looked after this [14] [15] [16] place! While I’ve been away, you seemingly have used my garden as a chicken run!” “How did I know you was ever coming back?” Crocker demanded. “Anyhow, the place has gone to wrack and ruin. A few chickens more nor less shouldn’t make no difference.” “Perhaps not to you, Truman Crocker,” Mrs. Marborough returned with biting emphasis. “You know I am home now, so I warn you—keep your live stock out of my garden!” Penny and her friends shared the old stonecutter’s chagrin, for they too were trespassers. Waiting until the woman had finished lecturing Crocker, they offered an apology for the intrusion. “We’re very sorry,” Penny said, speaking for the others. “Of course we never dreamed that the house was occupied or we wouldn’t have peeped through the window. We came because we wanted to sketch the old wishing well and your lovely home.” Mrs. Marborough came down the steps toward the girls. “I quite understand,” she said in a far milder tone than she had used in speaking to the stonecutter. “You may look around as much as you wish. But first, tell me your names.” One by one they gave them, answering other questions which the old lady asked. She kept them so busy that they had no opportunity to interpose any of their own. But at length Penny managed to inquire: “Mrs. Marborough, are you planning to open up your home again? Everyone would be so happy if only you should decide to live here!” “Happy?” the old lady repeated, her eyes twinkling. “Well, maybe some people would be, and others wouldn’t.” “Rose Acres could be made into one of the nicest places in Riverview,” declared Louise. “That would take considerable money,” replied Mrs. Marborough. “I’ve not made any plans yet.” Abruptly she turned to face Truman Crocker who was staring at her. “Must you stand there gawking?” she asked with asperity. “Get along to your own land, and mind, don’t come here again. I’ll not have trespassers.” “You ain’t changed a bit, Mrs. Marborough, not a particle,” the stonecutter muttered as he slowly moved off. Truman Crocker’s dismissal had been so curt that Penny and her friends likewise started to leave the grounds. “You needn’t go unless you want to,” Mrs. Marborough said, her tone softening again. “I never could endure that no-good loafer, Truman Crocker! All the stepping stones are gone from my garden, and I have an idea what became of them!” The group of girls hesitated, scarcely knowing what to do or say. As the silence became noticeable, Penny tried to make conversation by remarking that she and her friends had been especially interested in the old wishing well. “Is it true that wishes made there have come true?” Rhoda Wiegand interposed eagerly. “Yes and no,” the old lady smiled. “Hundreds of wishes have been made at the well over the years. A surprising number of the [17] [18] worthwhile ones have been granted, so folks say. Tell me, did you say your name is Rhoda?” “Why, yes,” the girl responded, surprised that the old lady had remembered. “Rhoda Wiegand.” “Wiegand—odd, I don’t recall the name. Have your parents lived many years in Riverview?” “My mother and father are dead, Mrs. Marborough. My brother and I haven’t any living relatives. Mr. and Mrs. Breen took us in so we wouldn’t have to go to an orphans’ home. They have three children of their own, and I’m afraid we’re quite a burden.” “Where do the Breens live, my child?” “We have a trailer at the Dorset Tourist Camp.” “I’ve always thought I should enjoy living that way,” Mrs. Marborough declared. “Big houses are entirely too much work. If I decide to clean up this place, it will take me weeks.” “Can’t we all help you?” suggested Louise impulsively. More than anything else she longed to see the interior of the quaint old house. “Thank you, my dear, but I shall require no assistance,” Mrs. Marborough replied somewhat stiffly. Obviously dismissing the girls, she added: “Do come again whenever you like.” During the bus ride to Riverview, the members of the Palette exchanged comments, speculating upon why the old lady had returned to the city after such a lengthy absence. One by one they alighted at various street corners until only Rhoda, Penny, and Louise remained. “Rhoda, you’ll have a long ride to the opposite side of the city,” Penny remarked as she and Louise prepared to leave the bus. “Why not get off here and let me drive you home in my car? It won’t take long to get it from the garage.” “Oh, that would be too much trouble,” Rhoda protested. “I want to do it,” Penny insisted. Taking the girl by the elbow, she steered her to the bus exit. To Louise she added: “Why not come along with us?” “Perhaps I will, if you’ll drive your good car—not Leaping Lena.” Penny was the proud possessor of two automobiles, one a handsome maroon sedan, the other a dilapidated, ancient “flivver” which had an unpleasant habit of running only when fancy dictated. How she had obtained two cars was a story in itself—in fact, several of them. The maroon model, however, had been the gift of Penny’s devoted father, Anthony Parker, publisher of Riverview’s leading daily newspaper, The Star. He had presented the car to her in gratitude because she had achieved an exclusive story for his paper, gaining astounding evidence by probing behind a certain mysterious Green Door. Delighted with the gift, Penny promptly sold Leaping Lena only to become so lonesome for her old friend that she had bought it back from a second-hand dealer. In towing the car home she was involved in an accident, and there followed a chain of amazing events which ultimately brought the solution of a mystery case known as Clue of the Silken Ladder. Leaping Lena and trouble always went together, according to Louise, but Penny felt that every one of her adventures had been worth while. [19] [20] “I don’t mind taking the maroon car,” she replied to her chum. “In fact, Lena hasn’t been running so well lately. I think she has pneumonia of the carburetor.” “Or maybe it’s just old age sneaking up on her!” Louise added with a teasing laugh. Reaching the Parker home, Penny ran inside to tell Mrs. Weems, the housekeeper, that she was taking Rhoda to the trailer camp. Returning a moment later, she backed the maroon car from the garage with dazzling skill and further exhibited her prowess as a driver. “Penny always handles an automobile as if she were enroute to a three-alarm fire!” Louise assured Rhoda. “A reporter at the Star taught her how to drive.” Presently, the car arrived at the Dorset Tourist Camp, rolling through an archway entrance into a tree-shaded area. “Our trailer is parked over at the north side,” Rhoda said, pointing to a vehicle with faded brown paint. Penny stopped the car beneath a large maple tree. Immediately three small children who had been playing close by, rushed up to greet Rhoda. Their hands and faces were very dirty, frocks unpressed and torn, and their hair appeared never to have made contact with comb or brush. “Are these the Breen youngsters?” inquired Louise. “Yes,” Rhoda answered, offering no apology for the way the children looked. “This is Betty, who is seven. Bobby is five, and Jean is our baby.” Penny and Louise had no intention of remaining at the camp, but before they could drive away, Mrs. Breen stepped from the trailer. She came at once to the car, and Rhoda introduced her. “I’ve always told Rhoda to bring her friends out here, but she never would do it,” the woman declared heartily. “Come inside and see our trailer.” “We really should be going,” Penny demurred. “I told our housekeeper I’d be right back.” “It will only take a minute,” Mrs. Breen urged. “I want you to meet my husband—and there’s Ted.” The woman had caught a glimpse of a tall young man as he moved hastily around the back side of the trailer. “Oh, Ted!” she called shrilly. “Come here and meet Rhoda’s friends!” “Don’t bother about it, Mrs. Breen,” Rhoda said in embarrassment. “Please.” “Nonsense!” the woman replied, and called again. “Ted! Come here, I say!” With obvious reluctance, the young man approached the automobile. He was tall and slim with many of Rhoda’s facial features. Penny felt certain that she had seen him before, yet for a minute she could not think where. “How are you?” the young man responded briefly as he was presented to the two girls. [21] [22] “Ted found a little work to do today,” Mrs. Breen resumed proudly. “Just a few minutes ago he brought home a nice plump chicken. We’re having it for dinner!” Ted gazed over the woman’s head, straight at his sister. Seeing the look which passed between them, Penny suddenly knew where she had seen the young man. Mrs. Breen’s remark had given her the required clue. Unquestionably, Ted Wiegand was the one who had stolen the chicken from the old stonecutter! CHAPTER 3 CHICKEN DINNER The discovery that Rhoda’s brother had stolen food was disconcerting to Penny. Saying good-bye to Mrs. Breen, she prepared to drive away from the trailer camp. “Oh, you can’t go so soon,” the woman protested. “You must stay for dinner. We’re having chicken and there’s plenty for everybody!” “Really we can’t remain,” Penny declined. “Louise and I both are expected at home.” “You’re just afraid you’ll put me to a little trouble,” Mrs. Breen laughed, swinging open the car door and tugging at Penny’s hand. “You have to stay.” Taking a cue from their mother, the three young children surrounded the girls, fairly forcing them toward the trailer. Ted immediately started in the opposite direction. “You come back here, Ted Wiegand!” Mrs. Breen called in a loud voice. “I don’t want any dinner, Mom.” “I know better,” Mrs. Breen contradicted cheerfully. “You’re just bashful because we’re having two pretty girls visit us. You stay and eat your victuals like you always do, or I’ll box your ears.” “Okay,” Ted agreed, glancing at Rhoda again. “It’s no use arguing with you, Mom.” Neither Penny nor Louise wished to remain for dinner, yet they knew of no way to avoid it without offending Mrs. Breen. Briskly the woman herded them inside the trailer. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” she asked proudly. “We have a little refrigerator and a good stove and a sink. We’re a bit crowded, but that only makes it more jolly.” A man in shirt sleeves lay on one of the day beds, reading a newspaper. “Meet my husband,” Mrs. Breen said as an afterthought. “Get up, Pop!” she ordered. “Don’t you have any manners?” [23] [24] The man amiably swung his feet to the floor, grinning at Penny and Louise. “I ain’t been very well lately,” he said, as if feeling that the situation required an explanation. “The Doc tells me to take it easy.” “That was twenty years ago,” Mrs. Breen contributed, an edge to her voice. “Pop’s been resting ever since. But we get along.” Rhoda and Ted, who had followed the others into the trailer, were acutely embarrassed by the remark. Penny hastily changed the subject to a less personal one by pretending to show an interest in a book which lay on the table. “Oh, that belongs to Rhoda,” Mrs. Breen responded carelessly. “She brought it from the library. Ted and Rhoda always have their noses in a book. They’re my adopted children, you know.” “Mr. and Mrs. Breen have been very kind to us,” Rhoda said quietly. “Stuff and nonsense!” Mrs. Breen retorted. “You’ve more than earned your keep. Well, if you’ll excuse me now, I’ll dish up dinner.” Penny and Louise wondered how so many persons could be fed in such a small space, especially as the dinette table accommodated only six. Mrs. Breen solved the problem by giving each of the three small children a plate of food and sending them outdoors. “Now we can eat in peace,” she remarked, squeezing her ample body beneath the edge of the low, anchored table. “It’s a little crowded, but we can all get in here.” “I’ll take my plate outside,” Ted offered. “No, you stay right here,” Mrs. Breen reproved. “I never did see such a bashful boy! Isn’t he the limit?” Having arranged everything to her satisfaction, she began to dish up generous helpings of chicken and potato. The food had an appetizing odor and looked well cooked, but save for a pot of tea, there was nothing else. “We’re having quite a banquet tonight,” Pop Breen remarked appreciatively. “I’ll take a drumstick, Ma, if there ain’t no one else wantin’ it.” “You’ll take what you get,” his wife retorted, slapping the drumstick onto Penny’s plate. Louise and Penny made a pretense of eating, finding the food much better than they had expected. Neither Ted nor Rhoda seemed hungry, and Mrs. Breen immediately called attention to their lack of appetite. “Why, Ted! What’s the matter you’re not eating? Are you sick?” The boy shook his head and got to his feet. “I’m not hungry, Mom,” he mumbled. “Excuse me, please. I have a date with a fellow at Riverview, and I have to hurry.” Before Mrs. Breen could detain him, he left the trailer. “I can’t understand that boy any more,” she observed with a sad shake of her head. “He hasn’t been himself lately.” The younger members of the Breen family quite made up for Ted [25] [26] [27] and Rhoda’s lack of appetite. Time and again they came to the table to have their plates refilled, until all that remained of the chicken was a few bones. Penny and Louise felt quite certain that Rhoda realized what her brother had done and was deeply humiliated by his thievery. To spare the girl further embarrassment, they declared that they must leave. However, as they were presenting their excuses, there was a loud rap on the door of the trailer. Peering from the curtained window, Mrs. Breen immediately lost her jovial manner. “He’s here again,” she whispered. “What are we going to tell him, Pop?” “Just give him the old stall,” her husband suggested, undisturbed. Reluctantly, Mrs. Breen went to open the door. Without waiting for an invitation, a well-dressed man of middle age entered the trailer. Penny immediately recognized him as Jay Franklin, who owned the Dorset Tourist Camp. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Breen,” he began, his manner falsely cheerful. “I suppose you know why I am here again?” “About the rent?” “Precisely.” Mr. Franklin consulted a small booklet. “You are behind one full month in your payments, as of course you must be aware. The amount totals eight dollars.” “Pop, pay the gentleman,” Mrs. Breen commanded. “Well, now, I ain’t got that much on me,” her husband rejoined, responding to his cue. “If you’ll drop around in a day or two, Mr. Franklin—” “You’ve been stalling for weeks! Either pay or your electric power will be cut off!” “Oh, Mr. Franklin,” pleaded Mrs. Breen, “you can’t do that to us. Why, with our refrigerator on the blink, the milk will sour. And I got three little children.” The man regarded her with cold dislike. “I am not interested in your personal problems, Mrs. Breen,” he said, delivering his ultimatum. “Either settle your bill in full by tomorrow morning, or move on!” CHAPTER 4 A RECORD ON ROCK “What’ll we do?” Mrs. Breen murmured, gazing despairingly at her husband. “Where will we get the money?” Penny stepped forward into Jay Franklin’s range of vision. Observing her for the first time, he politely doffed his hat, a courtesy he had not bestowed upon the Breens.