"Did you come to see Mr. Thorne on business?" she asked.
"No," replied Bob; "just ran over to see him."
She laughed quietly.
"Then I'm afraid I won't do," she said, "for I must cook dinner. You
see," she explained, "I'm Mr. Thorne's clerk, and if it were business, I
might attend to it."
Bob flushed to the ears. He was ordinarily a young man of sufficient
self-possession, but this young woman's directness was disconcerting.
She surveyed his embarrassment with approving eyes.
"You might finish those beans," said she, offering the hoe. "Of course,
you must stay to dinner, and I must go light the fire."
Bob finished the beans, leaned the hoe up against the house, and went
around to the front. There he stopped in astonishment.
"Well, you have changed things!" he cried.
The stuffy little shed kitchen was no longer occupied. A floor had been
laid between the bases of four huge trees, and walls enclosing three
sides to the height of about eight feet had been erected. The affair had
no roof. Inside these three walls were the stove, the kitchen table, the
shelves and utensils of cooking.
Pages:
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476