"In the house?"
"No, walks out o" doors. Sometimes he"ll come in at jes" daylight; sometimes not till break-fas" is ready."
"And doesn"t that make him cross, Ingua?"
"Not a bit. It seems to chirk him up. Yist"day mornin", when he come in, he was feelin" so chipper he give me a cent, an" told me to buy somethin" useful. I guess that"s the first cent he ever give me. I"ve _took_ money o" his"n, but he never _give_ me none afore."
"Oh, Ingua! I hope you haven"t stolen money?"
"Nope. Jes" took it. It ain"t easy, "cause he knows ev"ry cent he"s got, an" it ain"t often he leaves it where I kin git it. P"r"aps he knows it"s me, but when I lie out of it he can"t do noth"n" but growl-- an" growlin" don"t hurt any."
Mary Louise was greatly distressed. This reckless disregard of property rights was of course the direct result of the child"s environment, but must be corrected. Ingua resented direct chiding and it was necessary to point out to her the wickedness of stealing in the gentlest possible manner.
"How much money have you taken from your grandfather?" she asked.
"Oh, not much. A nickel, now an" then. He wouldn"t stan" for losin" any more, ye see. P"r"aps, altogether, I"ve swiped twenty-five cents. But once Ned Joselyn give me a dollar, an" Ol" Swallertail knowed it, an"
made me give it to him to save for me. That were the last I ever saw o"
that dollar, Mary Louise, so I ain"t even with Gran"dad yet."
"Do you think," remarked Mary Louise, "there is ever any excuse for stealing?"
The girl stared at her, coloring slightly.
"Do ye mean Gran"dad, er _me?_"
"I mean you. He didn"t steal your dollar, dear; he merely took it so you wouldn"t spend it foolishly."
"An" I merely took them nickels so"s I could, spend "em foolish.
There"s no fun in spendin" money, seems to me, unless you squander it reckless. That"s what I done with them nickels. Candy an" chewin" gum tastes better when you know it"s swiped."
Mary Louise sighed. It was so hard to show little Ingua the error of her ways.
"As fer stealin"--out an" out _stealin","_ continued the girl, with a proud toss of her head, "we Craggs ain"t never took noth"n" that don"t belong to us from n.o.body. What a Cragg takes from a Cragg is a Cragg"s business, an" when we takes someth"n" from somebody else I"ll ask ye to tell me "bout it."
"Where are you going, Ingua?"
"Home."
"You"re not offended, I hope."
"No, but I got work to do. I ain"t done my breakfas" dishes yet."
Mary Louise musingly watched the girl cross the river. On the opposite bank she turned to wave her hand and then ran into the cottage. Ingua"s code of honor was a peculiar one. Her pride in the Craggs seemed unaccountable, considering she and her grandfather were the only two of the family in existence--except that wandering mother of hers.
But the recent conversation had uncovered a new phase of the mystery.
Old Swallowtail was nervous over something; he could not sleep at night, but roamed the roads while others with clear consciences slumbered. There must be some powerful reason to account for the old man"s deserting his bed in this manner. What could it be?
When she walked over to the postoffice the girl found the long-looked-for letter from Josie O"Gorman. It said:
Dear Mary Louise: How good you are! I positively need a change of scene and a rest, so I"m coming. To-morrow--by the train to Chargrove. The mystery you hint at will help me to rest. Dad doesn"t want me to grow rusty and he has some odd theories I"d like to work out. I haven"t an idea what your "mystery" is, of course, but if it enables me to test any one of the O"Gorman theories (a theory is merely a stepping-stone to positive information) I shall bless you forever. And that reminds me: I"m coming as a sewing girl, to help you fix over some summer gowns. You"re anxious to give me the work, because I need it, but as we"re rather chummy I"m half servant and half companion. (I hate sewing and make the longest st.i.tches you ever saw!) Moreover, I"m Josie Jessup. I"m never an O"Gorman while I"m working on a mystery; it wouldn"t do at all.
Explain this to dear old Gran"pa Jim.
Between the receipt of this script and to-morrow"s train jot down in regular order everything you know concerning the aforesaid mystery.
Make it brief; no speculations or suspicions, just facts. Then I won"t waste any time getting busy.
Can you hear the rumble of my train? While you"re reading this I"m on my way!
Josie
"Good!" murmured Mary Louise, as she folded the letter. "I feel better already. Whatever the mystery of Old Swallowtail may be, Josie is sure to solve it."
CHAPTER VIII THE RED-HEADED GIRL
Sol Jerrems the storekeeper, coming in from the back room where he had been drawing mola.s.ses for Farmer Higgins, found perched on top the sugar-barrel a chunky, red-haired, freckle-faced young girl whom he had never seen before. She seemed perfectly at home in his store and sat with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms encircling her legs, eyeing soberly the two or three farmers who had come to the Crossing to "trade."
"If the head o" thet bar"l busts in, you"ll be a fine mess," remarked Sol.
The girl nodded but did not move from her position. Sol waited on his customers, at times eyeing the strange girl curiously. When the farmers had gone with their purchases he approached the barrel and examined his visitor with speculative care.
"Want anything?"
"Spool o" red cotton, number thirty."
"Ain"t got no red."
"Green"ll do."
"Ain"t got green. Only black an" white."
"All right."
"Want black or white?"
"No."
Sol leaned against the counter. He wasn"t busy; the girl seemed in no hurry; it was a good time to gossip and find out all about the strange creature perched on his sugar-barrel.
"Where"d ye come from?" he inquired.
"City," tossing her head toward the north.
"What for?"
"To do sewing for the Hathaways folks. Mary Louise, you know."
Sol p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. The Hathaways were newcomers, about whom little was known. He wanted to know more, and here was a girl who could give him inside information.