loft to pitch down hay for the balers who were expected to come and
set up their machine that night, ready for work the next day. He
could not have selected a meaner job, for the hay loft was stifling
in the heat of the midday sun which beat down on the roof of the
barn, and there were only two tiny windows to supply air. Mr. Peabody
himself was going up in the woods to mark trees for some needed fence
rails.

Bob departed with a significant backward glance at Betty, which sent
her flying upstairs to get into a clean frock. Mrs. Peabody
manifested so little interest in her activities that the girl
anticipated no difficulty in getting safely out of the house. As it
happened, her hostess made the way even easier.

"If you're going to Glenside, Betty," she remarked dully, stopping
in the doorway of Betty's room as the girl pulled on her hat, "I wish
you'd see if Grimshaw has any meat scraps. Joseph might get me a bit
the next time he goes over. Just ask how much it is, an' all--the
hens need something more than they're getting."

Betty knew that Joseph Peabody would never buy meat scraps for his
wife's hens. Indeed, she had priced stuff several times at Mrs.
Peabody's request and nothing had ever come of it. But she agreed to
go to Grimshaw's if she got that far in her walk, and Mrs. Peabody
turned aside into her own room without asking any questions.

"Gee! thought you never were coming," complained Bob, when the slim
figure in the navy serge skirt and white middy met him at the end of
the lane road. "The sale starts at one sharp, you know, and we'll
miss the first of it. Lots of 'em will come in overalls, so I'll be