ke
only one or two evenings a week. They furnish all the chemicals and it
pays very well. I'll do it through the summer anyhow, until school
starts."

"What a child! What a child!" was all Mrs. Buck could say. "I don't
believe even the Norse sailor could have beat her."

Again the old men on the hotel porch were treated to a sight of Judith
Buck. She parked her little blue car directly across the street from
the Rye House and began the business of shopping.

"What you reckon that Judy gal is up to now?" queried Judge Middleton.
"I betcher she's goin' in the butcher shop."

"I betcher she ain't," said Pete Barnes for the sake of argument. "I
betcher she's going in the Emporium to buy herself a blue dress."

"Maybe," ruminated Major Fitch. "I always did hold to women folks that
had sense enough to wear blue. That blue that Miss Judith Buck wears
is just my kind of blue too--not too light and not too dark--kinder
betwixt and between, like way-off hills or--"

"Kittens' eyes," suggested Colonel Crutcher with a twinkle.

"Cat's foot! Nothin' of the kind! Anyhow, that kind of blue is mighty
becomin' to Miss Judith."

They all agreed to this and when Judith appeared again with her arms
laden with bundles to be stowed in the back of the car the old men
called in chorus:

"Hiyer, Miss Judith?"

"Hiyer, yourselves?" she answered.

"Come over and tell us the news," they begged, and she ran across the
street and perched on the railing of the Rye House, while she
recounted what news she had picked up on her peddling trip of the day
before.

"Uncle Peter Turner has gone over to cook and wash dishes for the
ladies at Mr. Big Josh Bucknor's. They haven't had a servant for
weeks. They thought Miss Ann Peyton was coming but she turned in at
Buck Hill, I saw her. She has been visiting the Throckmortons and left
there in a hurry. Old Aunt Minnie, over at Clayton, has just had her
hundredth descendant. She had sixteen children of her own and all of
them have had their share of children and grandchildren. I know it's
so because I just sold one of the great-granddaughters some hair
straightener and a box of flea powder and she thought of getting some
talcum powder for the new baby, but decided to use flea powder
instead."

The old men laughed delightedly. "Tell us some more," they demanded.

"The widow Simco, at Nine Mile House, asked me what had become of Mr.
Pete Barnes. I sold her some henna shampoo and a box of bronze