Part 7 (1/2)

”One of these days you'll choke on some of those big words,” Louise grumbled. ”All right, I'll come.”

Fifteen minutes later she arrived at the Parker home to find Penny, garbed in an ap.r.o.n, working industriously in the kitchen.

”Say, what is this?” Louise demanded suspiciously. ”If you tricked me into helping you with the dishes, I'm going straight home!”

”Oh, relax,” Penny laughed. ”The dishes were done hours ago. We're going to help out the Old Wis.h.i.+ng Well.”

”I wish you would explain what you mean.”

”It's this way, Lou. The Breens are as poor as church mice, and they need food. At the Marborough place this afternoon Rhoda made a wish--that her family would have more to eat. Well, it's up to us to make that wish come true.”

”You're preparing a basket of food to take out to the camp?”

”That's the general idea. We can leave it on the doorstep of the trailer and slip away without revealing our ident.i.ty.”

”Why, your idea is a splendid one!” Louise suddenly approved. ”Of course Mrs. Weems said it would be all right to fix the basket of food?”

”Oh, she won't mind. I know she would want me to do it if she were here.”

Swinging open the porcelain door of the ice box, Penny peered into the illuminated shelves. The refrigerator was unusually well stocked, for Mrs. Weems had baked that day in antic.i.p.ation of week-end appet.i.tes.

Without hesitation, Penny handed out a meat loaf, a plum pudding, bunches of radishes, scrubbed carrots, celery, and a dozen fresh eggs.

”Dash down to the bas.e.m.e.nt and get some canned goods from the supply shelf,” she instructed Louise briskly. ”We ought to have jelly too, and a sample of Mrs. Weems' strawberry preserves.”

”You do the das.h.i.+ng, if you don't mind,” her chum demurred. ”I prefer not to become too deeply involved in this affair.”

”Oh, Mrs. Weems won't care--not a bit,” Penny returned as she started for the bas.e.m.e.nt. ”She's the most charitable person in the world.”

In a minute she was back, her arms laden with heavy canned goods. Finding a market basket in the garage, the girls packed the food, wrapping perishables carefully in waxed paper.

”There! We can't crowd another thing into the basket,” Penny declared at last.

”The ice-box is as bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard,” Louise rejoined.

”What will the Parker family eat tomorrow?”

”Oh, Mrs. Weems can buy more. She'll be a good sport about it, I know.”

With no misgivings, Penny carried the heavy basket to the garage and loaded it into the car. Discovering that the gasoline gauge registered low, she skillfully siphoned an extra two gallons from her father's car, and then announced that she was ready to go.

”Don't you ever patronize a filling station?” Louise inquired as her chum headed the automobile down the street.

”Oh, now and then,” Penny grinned. ”After that cheque I wrote for the Breens' rent, I'm feeling rather poor. Dad is much better able to buy gasoline than I, and he won't begrudge me a couple of gallons.”

”You certainly have your family well trained,” Louise sighed. ”I wish I knew how you get by with it.”

The car toured through Riverview and presently arrived at the entrance of the Dorset Tourist Camp. An attendant stopped the girls, but allowed them to drive on when he learned that they did not wish to make reservations for a cabin. Penny drew up not far from where the Breen trailer was parked.

”A light is still burning there,” Louise observed. ”We'll have to be careful if we don't want to be seen.”