“Well, how goofy!” exclaimed the Scout Master. “Have you lived over a month beside Mrs. Cameron and she hasn’t told you a word about Molly and Lolly and about Don?”
“It just happens,” said Jamie, “that when we’ve talked together we’ve talked about bees and flowers and food. She hasn’t told me so very much about her children.”
“Well, they aren’t her children,” said the Scout Master. “At least, Molly and Donald aren’t. Molly and Donald are twins and their father and Mr. Cameron were brothers, and when both of them went down in the boat the night of the big storm, why, Mrs. Cameron brought the kids home to her house and she helped both of ’em to get their schooling, so Molly could teach and so Don could work. He’s electricity. He knows a world about radio and he puts in wires in different places. I think you call it ‘installations,’ ‘Installations’ would be the right word, wouldn’t it?”
“It sounds right,” said Jamie. “And who’s Lolly?”
“Well, Lolly belonged to Margaret Cameron before she was married. Sometime, somewhere, she must have been married to some other man, and I dunno whether he went by the graveyard route or got eliminated by a divorce judge. Sometimes I think I’d like to be a divorce judge. It’d be fun to hear all the folks telling what’s their troubles and why they can’t pull even and who’s to blame, and sometimes I see women that I’d just naturally separate from any man. I see a lot of ’em that don’t look like they were keeping house or tending to their babies or could
