Part 11 (2/2)

June 12th.

I have been tramping on and on for two more days. I do not believe I shall ever find what I want. Nothing but one old musty place in ruins, so far!

And my money is going, and I am wild with anxiety! I am almost tempted to turn back to the ruin.

June 13th.

I am sitting in a room in a dirty hotel. It was raining to-day and I had to come here. I shall probably have to pay fifty cents too. I won't stay to breakfast.

Oh what will I do if my money gives out? I saw a cottage to-day, that a man said I could have for ten dollars a month. I was tempted to spend nearly all I had and take it, and live on bread and water. I am desperate.

June 14th.

”Perhaps maybe you'd like 'Oaklands,'” said the farmer, laughing.

”Oaklands” turned out to be the home of a millionaire ”dry-goods man” who was in Europe. I did not want ”Oaklands.”

”I don't know of anything else,” said the farmer, scratching his head. Then he added with a grin, ”unless it be the cook-house.”

”What's the cook-house?” I asked, suspiciously.

”Oh, it's a kind of a little place they've got 'way out in the woods,” said the farmer. ”It's where they goes when they goes picnicking.”

My heart gave a jump. ”What sort of a place?” I asked.

”They've got a big platform chiefly, where they put up a tent. The cook-house ain't nothin' but a little two by four shanty, with a big stove in it.”

”How big is it?” I cried.

”It's about half o' this here room, I reckon.”

(”This here room” was about six of my rooms in New York!)

”And where is it?” I cried. ”How can I get there?”

”Oh, you don't want to go to no sech place ez that!” said the farmer.

”There ain't no bed nor nothin' in it! An' it's two mile out there in the woods!”

Let anybody imagine how my heart was going! ”Who can show it to me?” I panted.

”Why,” said he, ”I'm the man that's in charge of it; but I--”

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