CHAPTER II
KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE
"Whatever's going on?" asked a pleasant
voice from the doorway that led into
the room behind the shop. "Is—is anything
wrong, Polly? Dear me, child, you're running
that all over the counter!"
More than two dozen pairs of eyes turned to where Mrs. Deane looked perplexedly about her. She was a sweet-faced little woman whose white hair was contradicted by a plump, unlined countenance and rosy cheeks. Elk's uplifted arm dropped slowly back. For a short moment the silence continued. Then a veritable Babel of voices arose. "Hello, Mrs. Deane!" "Say, Mrs. Deane, don't you remember me paying you ten cents last Friday? Miss Polly says I still owe—" "Mrs. Deane, when are you going to have some more of those twirly things with the cream filling?" "Mrs. Deane, will you wait on
