“You old tyke,” says Poppy, affectionately petting the yellow head.

“He hasn’t forgotten,” says Mr. Weckler, “how you fished him out of that dry cistern and bandaged his foot.”

“I see it’s all well again.”

“A trifle stiff in the joint, but otherwise as good as ever.... How big a place do you figure you need for this Pickle Parlor of yours?”

“I imagine we ought to start up in a small way,” says Poppy thoughtfully. “For the chances are we won’t have much of a stock at first. In fact,” came the laughing admission, “after supplying you people we have only seven pickles left. Nor do we know yet where more of the same kind are coming from.”

Mrs. Clayton laughed when she heard about the unknown pickle genius. Then, at the old man’s invitation,[25] we followed him into the back yard, where, almost hidden in a thicket of neglected apple trees, we were shown a small house on the order of a child’s playhouse, but made full height, which we were told we could use for a store if it were big enough for us.

[25]

“Originally a summerhouse, I built it over to please my daughter,” the old man told us quietly. And there was something in the tone of his voice that made us think that the memory of his daughter wasn’t a happy one. “It’s of no use to me now. As a matter of fact, this is the first time that I have been inside of it for years. For your purpose, of course, it would be better to move it to my vacant lot across the street from the canning factory.”

Poppy fairly danced with joy.

“Why, there couldn’t anything be better, Mr. Weckler. It fits our scheme to a ‘T.’ For like the scheme, itself, it’s different. Everybody will notice it. And it’s plenty big enough, too. We can build our shelves on the sides,” he began to plan, “and put the counter back here. Of course,” he ran off into a merry laugh, “it won’t be a very big counter.” Then he stopped. “But maybe,” he looked up at the old man with his big solemn eyes, “we can’t afford to pay you what it’s worth.”

“You paid for it,” came shortly, “when you went down into the cistern to rescue my cat.”

[26]“But that wasn’t anything. I’d do that for any cat.”

[26]

I could see that the old man liked Poppy. 

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