As if to provide a way out of her difficulty a big dog arose from a lawn, and came toward the gate wagging his tail. “If those children ate the stuff, it can't possibly kill him!” thought Elnora, so she offered the bologna. The dog accepted it graciously, and being a beast of pedigree he trotted around to a side porch and laid the bologna before his mistress. The woman snatched it, screaming: “Come, quick! Some one is trying to poison Pedro!” Her daughter came running from the house. “Go see who is on the street. Hurry!” cried the excited mother.
Ellen Brownlee ran and looked. Elnora was half a block away, and no one nearer. Ellen called loudly, and Elnora stopped. Ellen came running toward her.
“Did you see any one give our dog something?” she cried as she approached.
Elnora saw no escape.
“I gave it a piece of bologna myself,” she said. “It was fit to eat. It wouldn't hurt the dog.”
Ellen stood and looked at her. “Of course, I didn't know it was your dog,” explained Elnora. “I had something I wanted to throw to some dog, and that one looked big enough to manage it.”
Ellen had arrived at her conclusions. “Pass over that lunch box,” she demanded.
“I will not!” said Elnora.
“Then I will have you arrested for trying to poison our dog,” laughed the girl as she took the box.
“One chunk of stale bread, one half mile of antique bologna contributed for dog feed; the remains of cake, salad and preserves in an otherwise empty lunch box. One ham sandwich yesterday. I think it's lovely you have the box. Who ate your lunch to-day?”
“Same,” confessed Elnora, “but there were three of them this time.”
“Wait, until I run back and tell mother about the dog, and get my books.”
Elnora waited. That morning she walked down the hall and into the auditorium beside one of the very nicest girls in Onabasha, and it was the fourth day. But the surprise came at noon when Ellen insisted upon Elnora lunching at the Brownlee home, and convulsed her parents and family, and overwhelmed Elnora with a greatly magnified, but moderately accurate history of her lunch box.
“Gee! but it's a box, daddy!” cried the laughing girl. “It's carved leather and fastens with a strap that has her name on it. Inside are trays for things all complete, and it bears evidence of having enclosed delicious food, but Elnora never gets any. She's carried it two days now, and both times it has been empty before she reached school. Isn't that killing?”
“It is, Ellen, in more ways than one. No girl is going to eat breakfast at six o'clock, walk three miles, and do good work without her lunch. You can't tell me anything about that box. I sold it last Monday night to Wesley Sinton, one of my good country customers. He told me it was a present for a girl who was worthy of it, and I see he was right.”
“He's so good to me,” said Elnora. “Sometimes I look at him and wonder if a neighbour can be so kind to one, what a real father would be like. I envy a girl with a father unspeakably.”
“You have cause,” said Ellen Brownlee. “A father is the very dearest person in the whole round world, except a mother, who is just a dear.” The girl, starting to pay tribute to her father, saw that she must include her mother, and said the thing before she remembered what Mrs. Sinton had told the girls in the store. She stopped in dismay. Elnora's face paled a trifle, but she smiled bravely.
“Then I'm fortunate in having a mother,” she said.
Mr. Brownlee lingered at the table after the girls had excused themselves and returned to school.
“There's a girl Ellen can't see too much of, in my opinion,” he said. “She is every inch a lady, and not a foolish notion or action about her. I can't understand just what combination of circumstances produced her in this day.”
“It has been an unusual case of repression, for one thing. She waits on her elders and thinks before she speaks,” said Mrs. Brownlee.
“She's mighty pretty. She looks so sound and wholesome, and she's neatly dressed.”
“Ellen says she was a fright the first two days. Long brown calico dress almost touching the floor, and big, lumbering shoes. Those Sinton people bought her clothes. Ellen was in the store, and the woman stopped her crowd and asked them about their dresses. She said the girl was not poor, but her mother was selfish and didn't care for her. But Elnora showed a bank book the next day, and declared that she paid for the things herself, so the Sinton people must just have selected them. There's something peculiar about it, but nothing wrong I am sure. I'll encourage Ellen to ask her again.”
“I should say so, especially if she is going to keep on giving away her lunch.”
“She lunched with the Bird Woman one day this week.”
“She did!”
“Yes, she lives out by the Limberlost. You know the Bird Woman works there a great deal, and probably knows her that way. I think the girl gathers specimens for her. Ellen says she knows more than the teachers about any nature question that comes up, and she is going to lead all of them in mathematics, and make them work in any branch.”
When Elnora entered the coat room after having had luncheon with Ellen Brownlee there was such a difference in the atmosphere that she could feel it.
“I am almost sorry I have these clothes,” she said to Ellen.
“In the name of sense, why?” cried the astonished girl.
“Every one is so nice to me in them, it sets me to wondering if in time I could have made them be equally friendly in the others.”
Ellen looked at her introspectively. “I believe you could,” she announced at last. “But it would have taken time and heartache, and your mind would have been less free to work on your studies. No one is happy without friends, and I just simply can't study when I am unhappy.”
That night the Bird Woman made the last trip to the swamp. Every specimen she possibly could use had been purchased at a fair price, and three additions had been made to the bank book, carrying the total a little past two hundred dollars. There remained the Indian relics to sell on Saturday, and Elnora had secured the order to furnish material for nature work for the grades. Life suddenly grew very full. There was the most excitingly interesting work for every hour, and that work was to pay high school expenses and start the college fund. There was one little rift in her joy. All of it would have been so much better if she could have told her mother, and given the money into her keeping; but the struggle to get a start had been so terrible, Elnora was afraid to take the risk. When she reached home, she only told her mother that the last of the things had been sold that evening.
“I think,” said Mrs. Comstock, “that we will ask Wesley to move that box over here back of the garden for you. There you are apt to get tolled farther into the swamp than you intend to go, and you might mire or something. There ought to be just the same things in our woods, and along our swampy places, as there are in the Limberlost. Can't you hunt your stuff here?”
“I can try,” said Elnora. “I don't know what I can find until I do. Our woods are undisturbed, and there is a possibility they might be even better hunting than the swamp. But I wouldn't have Freckles's case moved for the world. He might come back some day, and not like it. I've tried to keep his room the best I could, and taking out the box would make a big hole in one side of it. Store boxes don't cost much. I will have Uncle Wesley buy me one, and set it up wherever hunting looks the best, early in the spring. I would feel safer at home.”
“Shall we do the work or have supper first?”
“Let's do the work,” said Elnora. “I can't say that