RUFUS LIKED TO WATCH THE DIMPLE COME AND GO IN
JENNY'S CHEEK.
THE QUILT OF HAPPINESS
CREEPING JENNY
And Other New England Stories
BY
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
AUTHOR OF
REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM,
MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS, ETC.
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1901 AND 1917, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY MCCALL COMPANY (INC.)
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
CONTENTS
THE AUTHOR'S READING AT BIXBY CENTRE
CREEPING JENNY
Jenny Lane lived in a shabby littlefarmhouse on the Back Nippin' Road that ledfrom Riverboro to Moderation Village.The house was small and compact and asneat as wax inside, for there Jenny wasMaster of her fate and Captain of her soul.
Outside, alas, things were different.There was only the shell of a former stable;the shed was tumbling down, and, when raindescended in anything worse than gentleshowers, Jenny's "indoors" looked like asyndicate of milk pans, the leaks were somany and the dripping of water so continuous.
It had been that way for three years, eversince the autumn that her mother had died;and her father, who had followed his wifein everything, followed her to the grave amonth later.
His last words to his daughter had been:"I'm sorry to leave you alone, Jenny, butI'd feel better if only I'd left you shingled.Your mother and me was laying up andlaying up ever since we got married. Webought the house and field, paid off themortgage and gave you good schooling.We are furnished up as well as most o' theneighbors, but when your mother's healthgot slim and my strength begun to fail, wecouldn't seem to get any farther than meat,drink, and clothes for the three of us. Thebuildings couldn't be kept up, that was thelong and short of it."
"I know, I know, Father. Haven't I seenhow hard you tried?"
"Now I'm on my death-bed," said the oldman. "There's money enough in the bankto buy the shingles, but God knows whetheryou can afford to hire a man to put 'em on,labor's so scarce and so high."
"Don't worry, Father! I don't wantyour last days troubled with fears aboutme and the roof. I'm twenty-two and I canearn my living somehow, somewhere!"
"'Tisn't so easy to earn your living andkeep your buildings shingled too!" sighedher father.
"Maybe not, but I'll do it, in course oftime!" said Jenny stoutly. "I've heardenough, all my life, about shingles; alsoabout clapboards and paint. There isn't ayoung man in the neighborhood that I'dwant to go to church with, but if one o