Chapter 4

Shirley was worried about Dinky. The little mite hadn't been seen for quite a while, so she decided to go to search for him. To her consternation, she found him trapped in a hole in the floor of the old icehouse. And, to make matters worse, she discovered he had taken one of her aunt's valuable figurines-a dog-and had managed to break it.

"Oh, Dinky," she said helplessly as she dragged him out of the hole. "To save you from trouble, I won't tell Aunt Jenny her dog is broken."

"I'm sorry," the little boy snuffled.

"Calm down. If I do this for you, you must do something for me. You must not go into this old icehouse ever again-and I mean never."

Dinky nodded solemnly.

"And you must promise, cross your heart and hope to die, that you will not touch the other spotted dog or anything else that does not belong to you for as long as you are in this house. Now if that is a bargain, let's shake on it."

"Pardners," Dinky repeated, extending a small cold hand.

There was no immediate problem when Dolly and Aunt Jenny returned from the Country Club. They were full of their plans for the coming dance, and Shirley listened to them chattering in the living room while she went about her preparations in the kitchen for the evening meal. She felt somewhat guilty about making chocolate cream pie again when George needed to watch his weight. On the other hand, it was one of her specialties, and she was sure that Tom Sanders and Dan Hallbrook could eat and enjoy generous portions without adding an ounce. George would just have to watch himself in the matter of diet.

Supper that night was fun and informal. Both truckmen were enthusiastic about working conditions on the job and the smooth way the truck was operating. They were also enthusiastic about Shirley's chili con carne and hot biscuits. The chocolate cream pie simply vanished. Dolly looked thoughtfully at the truckmen.

"I didn't know you thought so much about food," she remarked sharply. "I should think going around on different jobs the way you do, you'd just eat whatever you could, whenever you could get it."

"But that's just why we're so glad to get home cooking," Dan Hallbrook said quietly. "We haven't had a meal this good since we left home."

Jenny Winsted beamed. "Now you boys eat hearty while you are here. You're both a mite on the thin side, I would say."

"I wish I could say the same," George Weaver said with one of his rare flashes of humor. "But if there's any weight to be added, I think I will have to leave it up to my small son. I do thank you, Shirley, for giving him his supper before we came in. It is important for a child, in my opinion, to eat in a quiet, relaxed atmosphere without bothering about grown-up problems. He's now up in his room watching a Western TV show on that new portable I got him. The Teddy bear you gave him is held tight in his arms."

Shirley felt a pang of dismay as she remembered the Staffordshire dog lying in a hundred pieces in a hole in the icehouse. If only Dinky had taken the Teddy bear instead!

Dolly and Tom Sanders had been murmuring together, and Aunt Jenny seemed not to find anything amiss, but Shirley was vaguely concerned about this sudden intimacy between her cousin and the engaging stranger from the South. She thought, as she caught Dan Hallbrook's eyes on her, that he understood very well what she was thinking. His slow smile was reassuring.

"The kind of food you serve around here, ma'am, makes me feel that we're not paying our way. I'd be glad to work off the debt if you'd let me help with the dishes. I'm something of an expert," Dan added modestly. "I always got roped into wiping the dishes back home."

After the emotional stress of the day, Shirley welcomed a little help and adult companionship. George Weaver announced his intention of turning in early, and Aunt Jenny was knitting a sweater which was to be sold at the church fair next week. She cheerfully gave the car keys to Dolly, who wanted to take Tom Sanders down to the village for cigarettes. Shirley was disturbed by the complete understanding that seemed to exist between the two, Dolly and Tom. She knew that Dan Hallbrook sensed the fact that she was upset.

"You wash and I'll wipe," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. "And don't worry about your cousin. Tom is all right. He likes to have a little fun now and then, but I am sure Dolly Winsted can take care of herself."

Shirley put the soap in the dishpan, a little irritated by his opinion of Dolly. "My cousin is very beautiful," she said severely, "and your friend would not be the first man to lose his head over her. Why, she's been practically engaged to Joe Hamilton for the last year; he worships the ground she walks on."

"I am sure there is another man in the background," Dan said dryly. "Your cousin Dolly is the romantic type. In all fairness, I will admit that Tom's romantic, too. He just can't seem to resist a pretty girl."

Shirley glanced up at him, wondering whether to take his last remark as a comment that she herself was not pretty. But his admiration was so evident that she quickly bent over the dishpan once more.

"You are not the romantic type, I take it," she said demurely.

Dan Hallbrook gave a shout of laughter. "No, you don't, Miss Shirley-you're not going to pretend that I am an old bachelor who can't stand the sight of women. I have known many pretty girls, but I happen to think it isn't fair to ask anyone to share this gypsy life that Tom and I have cut out for ourselves. When we get the business on a really sound basis, then I'll be able to think of love and of building a real home somewhere. I want my wife to have security."

Shirley learned with surprise that the truck the two young men had brought to Burrbridge was only one of three the young partners owned. The others, operated by hired drivers, were working on construction jobs in Kansas and in Louisiana. When they had finished this highway, he and Tom would check on the progress of the other jobs and then would go up to the midwest, or perhaps on to Canada, in order to pick up future assignments.

"If I marry," Dan explained, "I would want my wife to have a real home with furniture and other possessions that she would treasure. The way it is now, either she would have to stay home alone or follow me in a trailer with the pots and pans bouncing and jangling every mile of the way."

"I don't agree with you and I don't think many other girls of my age would agree with you," Shirley objected. "A woman can have too many possessions. Maybe when you get to be Aunt Jenny's age, possessions are necessary. But right now, while I'm still feeling adventurous, I certainly don't want to go about dusting the Staffordshire dogs. I'd rather go to the ends of the earth in a trailer with the man I love."

Dan put his hand on her arm, and for a moment Shirley was afraid she had said too much. She did not want him to feel that she was throwing herself at his head. But his next words showed her how foolish that thought had been.

"You've been worried about something today. I noticed it during supper. Do you want to tell me what is wrong?"

Almost without meaning to, Shirley found herself telling the story of Dinky's attraction to the spotted dogs on the mantelpiece, and of his naughtiness in lifting one down so that he could play with it. When she came to the episode of the icehouse, he looked grave but did not interrupt. Shirley finally confessed that she was not at all certain she had done the right thing refusing to tell Aunt Jenny of her loss right away. But it had seemed the proper thing to do-to wait until Dinky felt more at home in the house before he had to face up to the punishment.

"I think you made the right decision," Dan said firmly. "The poor kid must feel lonely without anyone of his own age to play with, and without a pet of any kind. Tell you what: I'll take him with me when I go on the job tomorrow morning. He will see how the big trucks operate, and I'll explain to him exactly how they work."

Shirley's eyes were dancing with golden lights. "That would be wonderful," she said with enthusiasm. "But are you sure Tom would agree to it?"

There was no need for both Tom and himself to make every trip between the gravel pit and the dumping area, Dan pointed out. He would take the boy with him in the morning while Tom remained at home. In the afternoon, Tom alone could take the truck on its regular run. After a moment's hesitation, she agreed that this was a plan they would try to follow through. She took the dish towel out of his hand and spread it on the towel bar to dry.

"I ought to give you a gold star as a dishwasher's helper," Shirley said, smiling up at him as they went toward the living room. "Not only do you do a fine job of wiping dishes, but you also have the right solution for our small domestic problems and for those of a lonely bewildered boy. The only thing I can't figure out," Shirley dropped her voice a tone lower as she saw Aunt Jenny industriously knitting while she listened to a favorite radio program, "is this: what have you got against love?"

Dan's arm went around her shoulders and he gave her a light hug.

"My dear worry-wart," he said, bending down so that his cheek almost touched hers, "I'm all for love and marriage. Don't get me wrong. But you were talking about romance and adventure-and that's not the same thing. You'll find that out when you grow up."

"I am glad you have some hope for me," Shirley said indignantly, and all but flounced into the living room.