"Yes; for talking it over. Can't you imagine the clack of tongues;
the 'I says to _her_,' and 'she told _me_,' and 'what _do_ you
think!'"
"Don't be sarcastic and disagreeable, Jim," advised Fanny, with some
heat. "When you think of it, it _is_ a wonder--that girl coming here
the way she did; buying out the fair, just as everybody was
discouraged over it. And now--"
"How do you explain it, Fan?" asked her brother.
"Explain it? I can't explain it. Nobody seems to know anything about
her, except that she's from Boston and seems to have heaps of money."
Jim was wiping his hands on the roller-towel behind the door.
"I had a chance to annex a little more of Miss Orr's money today," he
observed grimly. "But I haven't made up my mind yet whether to do it,
or not."
Fanny laughed and shrugged her shoulders.
"If you don't, somebody else will," she replied. "It was Deacon
Whittle, wasn't it? He stopped at the house this afternoon and wanted
to know where to find you."
"They're going right to work on the old place, and there's plenty to
do for everybody, including yours truly, at four dollars a day."
"What sort of work?" inquired Fanny.
"All sorts: pulling down and building up; clearing away and
replanting. The place is a jungle, you know. But four dollars a day!
It's like taking candy from a baby."
"It sounds like a great deal," said the girl. "But why shouldn't you
do it?"
Jim laughed.
"Why, indeed? I might earn enough to put a shingle or two on our own
roof.
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