they always have the stove tank full of
hot water."

Bob took this advice, and the sympathetic Watterby family came to the
oil-spotted pair's assistance with copious supplies of hot water, soap
and towels and liberal handfuls of borax, for the water was very hard.
Fortunately, Betty had a clean blouse and skirt at hand (most of her
wardrobe was in the guest room at the Saunders farm), and Bob borrowed a
clean shirt from Will Watterby, in which the boy, being much smaller than
the man, looked a little absurd.

"I'm clean, anyway, and that makes me feel good, so why should I care how
I look?" was Bob's defense when his appearance was commented on.

"I'm so hungry," announced Betty, coming out of her room, once more trim
and neat, and sniffing the delicious odor of hot waffles. "I wonder if I
could pin my hair up in a towel and dry it after lunch?"

"Of course you may," said Mrs. Will Watterby warmly. "Did you fix a place
for Betty, Grandma?"

"What a silly question, Emma," reproved old Grandma Watterby
severely. "Here, Betty, you sit next to me, and Bob can have Will's
place. He's gone over to Flame City with a bolt he wants the
blacksmith to tinker up."

Ki, the Indian who helped with the farm work, smiled at Betty but said
nothing more than the single "Howdy," which was his stock form of
salutation. Mrs. Watterby's waffles were quite as good as they smelled,
and she apparently had mixed an inexhaustible quantity of batter. Every
one ate rapidly and in comparative silence, a habit to which Bob and
Betty were by now quite accustomed. When Mr. Gordon was present he
insisted on a little conversation, but his presence was lacking to-day.

"You go right out in the sun and dry your hair, Betty," said Mrs.
Watterby, when the meal was over. "No, I don't need any help with
the dishes. Grandma and me, we're going over to town in the car
this afternoon and I don't care whether I do the dishes till I come
back or not."

This, for Mrs. Watterby, was a great step forward. Before the purchase of
the automobile, bought with a legacy inherited by Grandma Watterby,
dishes and housework had been the sum total of Mrs. Will Watterby's
existence. Now that she could drive the car and get away from her kitchen
sink at will, she seemed another woman.

Betty voiced something of this to Bob as she unfastened the towel and let
her heavy dark hair fall over her shoulders. She was sitting on the back
porch where the afternoon sun shone uno