The woman smiled with pleasure. A workman loves to hear praise of his achievements, and the peach orchard was this lonely woman’s one happiness and pride. For the moment, she forgot the part she was to play in her sheer delight at the compliment.
“Yes, I growed them all myself. Been livin’ here nigh on to thirty year--” she was about to say, “by myself” but caught herself in time, and added, “me and my husband. And if I do say it myself, it’s a fine crop of peaches I’ve got. I never have no trouble sellin’ them.”
“And do you do all the work yourself?” questioned Frieda. “Doesn’t your husband help you?”
The woman shook her head. “No, he runs the car into Besley and other towns and sells ’em, but I do all the growin’. He never seemed to have no luck. But set down a minnit, and I’ll give you some doughnuts and fresh milk.”
“Thanks,” said Marjorie, gratefully. “But I almost think we oughtn’t to be so far behind the others----”
“But it will take a while to pick the peaches,” interrupted the other; “and you might as well be restin’ and a refreshin’ yourselves. Set down!”
The girls laughed good naturedly, and seated themselves upon a long wooden box which was evidently used for kindling. Just as they were handed their refreshments, an old man shuffled into the room.
“Jim, these girls wants some peaches,” said the woman. “Will you go out and pick them a basket?”
“A dollar’s worth,” explained Marjorie, biting into her doughnut.
The man nodded his head slowly, and then turned around and carefully closed the wooden door and bolted it.
“First of all,” he drawled, “will you answer me one question. Be either of yez by any chance Margie Wilkison?”
Marjorie dropped her doughnut into her lap in amazement. How could this man possibly know her name? But she never thought for a moment of attempting to conceal her identity. So she answered unhesitatingly.
“Yes, my name is Marjorie Wilkinson. Why?”
The old man squinted one eye, and, glorying in the completeness of his disguise, looked into her face.
“You know why as good as I do, young leddy! They’s no use pretendin’!”
At these words both girls sprang up instantly. There was something queer about the old creature--something uncanny! Both girls shuddered involuntarily, and with a common purpose started for the door, leaving their half-finished doughnuts on the table.