"Hoot! Hoot!" he called, in a cautious utterance. "She's went, and
the cabin looks just the same--from here."
But Jim, when he came there, with his tiny guest upon his arm, looked
long at the well-scrubbed floor and the tidy array of pots, pans,
plates, and cups.
"We'll never find the salt, or nothin', for a week," he drawled. "It
does take some people an awful long time to learn not to meddle with
the divine order of things."
CHAPTER VI
THE BELL FOR CHURCH
What with telling little Skeezucks of all the things he meant to make,
and fondling the grave bit of babyhood, and trying to work out the
story of how he came to be utterly unsought for, deserted, and
parentless, Jim had hardly more than time enough remaining, that day,
in which to entertain the visiting men, who continued to climb the hill
to the house.
Throughout that Saturday there was never more than fifteen minutes when
some of the big, rough citizens of Borealis were not on hand,
attempting always to get the solemn little foundling to answer some
word to their efforts at baby conversation. But neither to them, for
the strange array of presents they offered, nor to Jim himself, for all
his gentle coaxing, would the tiny chap vouchsafe the slightest hint of
who he was or whence he had come.
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