a livelier cricket in shoe leather than this Bonnie girl, purty as a Christmas card an' always on the prod to start somethin' for the good of he-men's souls"
Andy Dorson's impatient eye had signaled distress to Phenie Logan, the trim little person who "dealt 'em off the arm" at the Rhinoceros Eating House, Two Moons' justly popular restaurant. Phenie, crisply fresh and refreshing to the eye in blue print dress and starched apron, sleeves rolled up from round arms, hair of sunburned gold piled high in a Psyche knot, had moved down to the table where the two cronies from the Hashknife outfit were dining. She laid one competent hand, knuckles down, on the tablecloth to indicate to the absorbed Timberline her immediate readiness to serve. Timberline, again interrupted, looked up dazedly.
"He says two cans of can peaches, Mis' Phenie," Andy interpreted.
"An' make 'em Minervy brand, Mis' Phenie," Timberline hastily interposed. "That was the brand Bonnie Blackburn chose for her Methody church raffle because the name 's religious."
"Religious?" Andy echoed with heavy sur-
