CHAPTER 7 _BED AND BOARD_
For a moment the two girls watched in awe the dark, grotesque figuresilhouetted against the leaping flames of the fire. A woman in a long,flowing gown kept stirring the contents of the iron kettle.
"Doesn't she look exactly like a witch!" Penny exclaimed again. "Maybeit's Mrs. Lear."
"If that's the Lear place I know one thing!" Louise announceddramatically. "I'm going straight on to Delta."
Penny knew better than to argue with her chum. Softly she quoted from"Macbeth":
"'Double, double, toil and trouble Fire burn and cauldron bubble.'"
"Trouble is all we've had since we started this wild trip," Louise brokein. "And now you ask me to spend the night with a witch!"
"Not so loud, or the witch may hear you," Penny cautioned. "Don't besilly, Lou. It's only a woman out in her back yard cooking supper."
"At this time of night?"
"Well, it is a bit late, but so are we. Any port in a storm. Come along,Louise. I'll venture that whatever is cooking in that kettle will begood."
Penny rode on and Louise had no choice but to follow. A hundred yardsfarther on they came to an ancient farmhouse set back from the road.Dismounting, the girls tied their horses to an old-fashioned hitchingrack near the sagging gate. A mailbox bore the name: Mrs. M. J. Lear.
"This is the place all right," said Penny.
Just inside the gate stood an ancient domicile that by daylight wasshaded by a giant sycamore. Built of small bricks, it had latticedwindows, and a gabled front. An iron weathercock perched on the curlingshingle roof seemed to gaze saucily down at the girls.
Going around the house to the back yard, Penny and Louise again camewithin view of the blazing fire. An old woman in a long black dress bentover the smoke-blackened kettle which hung from the iron crane. Hearingfootsteps, she glanced up alertly.
"Who is it?" she called, and the crackled voice was sharp rather thanfriendly.
"Silas Malcom sent us here," Penny said, moving into the arc offlickering light.
"And who be you? Friends o' his?" The hatchet-faced woman peeredintently, almost suspiciously at the two girls.
Penny gave her name and Louise's, adding that they were seeking lodgingfor the night.
"We'll pay, of course," she added.
The old woman scrutinized the girls for so long that they were certainshe would send them away. But when she spoke, her voice was friendly.
"Well, well," she cackled, "anybody that's a friend of Silas is a friendof mine. You're welcome to bed and board fer as long as you want tostay."
Penny thanked her and stepped closer to the kettle. "We've not hadanything to eat since noon," she said suggestively. "My, whatever you'recooking looks good!" She sniffed at the steam arising from the iron potand backed hastily away.
Old Mrs. Lear broke into cackling laughter. "You gals don't want none o'that! This here is soap and I'm head over heels in it. That's why I'mworkin' so late."
"Soap," repeated Penny with deep respect. "Why, I thought soap was madein a factory."
Mrs. Lear was pleased at the girl's interest. "Most of it is," she said,"but not my soap. This here is homemade soap and I wouldn't trade a cakeof it for all the store soap ye can lug home--not for heavy cleanin', Iwouldn't."
Moving near enough to the fire to see the greasy mixture bubbling in thekettle, Penny asked Mrs. Lear if she would explain how soap was made.
"Bless you, yes," the old lady replied with enthusiasm. "You are thefirst gal I ever ran across that was interested in anything as oldfashioned as soap makin'. Why, when I was young every girl knew how tomake soap and was proud of it. But nowdays! All the girls think about isgaddin' and dancin' and having dates with some worthlessgood-for-nothin'. Come right up to the fire and I'll show you somethingabout soap makin'."
Mrs. Lear poked the glowing logs beneath the kettle.
"First thing," she explained, "is to get your fire good and hot. Then youadd your scrap grease."
"What is scrap grease?" Louise asked, greatly intrigued.
"Why, bless you, child, that's the odds and ends of cookin' that mostfolks throw away. Not me though. I make soap of it. Even if it ain't sogood smellin' it's better soap than you can buy."
The girls looked over the rim of the steaming kettle and saw a quantityof bubbling fats. With surprising dexterity for one of her age, Mrs. Learinserted a long-handled hoe-shaped paddle and stirred the mixturevigorously.
"Next thing ye do is to cook in the lye," she instructed. "Then you letit cool off and slice it to any size you want. This mess'll soon beready."
"And that's all there is to making soap," Penny said, a bit amazed inspite of herself.
"All but a little elbow grease and some git up and git!" the old ladychuckled. "Them two commodities are mighty scarce these days."
While the girls watched, Mrs. Lear poured off the soap mixture. She wouldnot allow them to help lest they burn themselves.
"I kin tell that you girls are all tuckered out," she said when the taskwas finished. "Just put your horses in the barn and toss 'em some cornand hay. While you're gone I'll clean up these soap makin' things andstart a mess o' victuals cookin'."
Mrs. Lear waved a bony hand toward a large, unpainted outbuilding. Louiseand Penny led their horses to it, opening the creaking old barn doorsomewhat cautiously. A sound they could not instantly identify greetedtheir ears.
"What was that?" Louise whispered, holding back.
"Only a horse gnawing corn!" Penny chuckled. "Mrs. Lear must keep a steedof her own."
It was dark in the barn even with the doors left wide open. Groping theirway to empty stalls, the girls unsaddled and tied the horses up for thenight. Mrs. Lear's animal, they noted, was a high-spirited animal,evidently a thoroughbred.
"A riding horse too," Penny remarked. "Wonder how she can afford to keepit?"
Finding corn in the bin, the girls fed Bones and White Foot, and forkedthem an ample supply of hay.
"Now to feed ourselves," Penny sighed as they left the barn. "My stomachfeels as empty as the Grand Canyon!"
The girls had visions of a bountiful supper cooked over the camp fire.However, Mrs. Lear was putting out the glowing coals with a bucket ofwater.
"Come into the house," she urged. "It won't take me long to git a mealknocked up. That is, if you ain't too particular."
"Anything suits us," Louise assured her.
"And the more of it, the better," Penny muttered, though under herbreath.
Mrs. Lear led the way to the house, advising the girls to wait at thedoor until she could light a kerosene lamp. By its ruddy glow they saw akitchen, very meagerly furnished with old-fashioned cook stove, ahomemade table and a few chairs.
"While you're washin' up I'll put on some victuals to cook," Mrs. Learsaid, showing the girls a wash basin and pitcher. "It won't take me aminute."
With a speed that was amazing, the old lady lighted the cook stove andsoon had a bed of glowing coals. She warmed up a pan of potatoes, friedsalt pork and hominy. From a pantry shelf she brought wild grape jellyand a loaf of homemade bread. To complete the meal she set before thegirls a pitcher of milk and a great glass dish brimming with cannedpeaches.
"It ain't much," she apologized.
"Food never looked better," Penny declared, drawing a chair to thekitchen table.
"It's a marvelous supper!" Louise added, her eyes fairly caressing thefood.
Mrs. Lear sat down at the table with the girls and seemed to take keendelight in watching them eat. Whenever their appetites lagged for aninstant she would pass them another dish.
"Now that you've et, tell me who you are and why you came," Mrs. Learurged after the girls had finished. "You say Silas sent you?"
Good food had stimulated Penny and Louise and made them in a talkativemood. They told of their long trip from Riverview and almost before theyrealized it, had spoken of the Head
less Horseman. Mrs. Lear listenedattentively, her watery blue eyes dancing with interest. Suddenly Pennycut her story short, conscious that the old lady deliberately was pumpingher of information.
"So you'd like to collect Mr. Burmaster's reward?" Mrs. Lear chuckled.
"We shouldn't mind," Penny admitted. "Besides, we'd be doing theBurmasters a good turn to help them get rid of their ghost rider."
"That you would," agreed the old lady exactly as if the Burmasters wereher best friends. "Yes, indeed, you've come in a good cause."
"Then perhaps you can help us," Louise said eagerly. "You must have heardabout the Headless Horseman."
Mrs. Lear nodded brightly.
"Perhaps you know who the person is," Penny added.
"Maybe, maybe not." Mrs. Lear shrugged, and getting quickly up, began tocarry the dishes to the sink. The firm tilt of her thin chin warned thegirls that so far as she was concerned, the topic was closed.
Rather baffled, Penny and Louise made a feeble attempt to reopen theconversation. Failing, they offered to wipe the dishes for their hostess.
"Oh, it ain't no bother to do 'em myself," Mrs. Lear said, shooing themaway. "You both look tired enough to drop. Just go up to the sparebedroom and slip beneath the covers."
Louise and Penny needed no further urging. Carrying their knapsacks and alamp Mrs. Lear gave them, they stumbled up the stairs. The spare bedroomwas a huge, rather cold chamber, furnished with a giant fourposter bedand a chest of drawers. The only floor covering was a homemade rag rug.
Louise quickly undressed and left Penny to blow out the light. Thelatter, moving to the latticed window, stood for a moment gazing outacross the moonlit fields toward the Burmaster estate.
"Nothing makes sense about this trip," she remarked.
From the bed came a muffled: "Now you're talking!"
Ignoring the jibe, Penny resumed: "Did you notice how Mrs. Lear actedjust as if the Burmasters were her friends."
"Perhaps she did that to throw us off the track. She asked us plenty ofquestions but she didn't tell us one thing!"
"Yet she knows plenty. I'm convinced of that."
"Oh, come on to bed," Louise pleaded, yawning. "Can't you do yourspeculating in the morning?"
With a laugh, Penny leaped into the very center of the feather bed,missing her chum's anatomy by inches.
Soon Mrs. Lear came upstairs. She tapped softly on the door and inquiredif the girls had plenty of covers. Assured that they were comfortable,she went on down the hall to her own room.
Worn from the long horseback ride, Louise fell asleep almost at once.Penny felt too excited to be drowsy. She lay staring up at the ceiling,reflecting upon the day's events. So far, the journey to the Valley hadnetted little more than sore muscles.
"Yet there's mystery and intrigue here--I know it!" Penny thought. "Ifonly I could get a little tangible information!"
An hour elapsed and still the girl could not sleep. As she stirredrestlessly, she heard Mrs. Lear's bedroom door softly creak. In thehallway boards began to tremble. Penny stiffened, listening. Distinctly,she could hear someone tiptoeing past her door to the stairway.
"That must be Mrs. Lear," she thought. "But what can she be doing up atthis time of night?"
The question did not long remain unanswered. Boards squeaked steadily asthe old lady descended the stairs. A little silence. Then Penny heard twolong rings and a short one.
"Mrs. Lear is calling someone on the old-fashioned party-line telephone!"she identified the sound.
Mrs. Lear's squeaky voice carried clearly up the stairway through thehalf open bedroom door.
"That you, Silas?" Penny heard her say. "Well, those gals got here, justas you said they would! First off they asked me about the HeadlessHorseman."
A slight pause followed before Mrs. Lear added: "Don't you worry none,Silas. Just count on me! They'll handle soft as kittens!"
And as she ended the telephone conversation, the old lady broke intocackling laughter.
Hoofbeats on the Turnpike Page 7