made her turn. "You looking for Mr. Watterby?"
"I'm looking for any one of them," explained Betty, smiling at the tow-haired boy who stood grinning at her. "Are they all away?"
"Yep. They're out riding in an automobile," announced the boy importantly. "Grandma Watterby's great-nephew, up to Tippewa, died and left her two thousand dollars. And she says she always wanted a car, and now she's going to have one. A different agent has been here trying to sell her one every week. They took me last time."
In spite of her anxiety, Betty laughed at the picture she had of the hard-working family leaving their cares and toil to go riding about the country in a demonstrator's car. She hoped that Grandma would find a car to her liking, one whose springs would be kind to her rheumatic bones, and that there would be enough left of the little legacy to buy the valiant old lady some of the small luxuries she liked.
"Ki's home," volunteered the boy. "He's working 'way out in the cornfield. Want to see him? I'll call him for you."
"No thanks," said Betty, uncertain what to do next. "I don't suppose there's a telephone at your house, is there?" she asked, smiling.
The urchin shook his head quickly.
"No, we ain't got one," he replied. "Was
