"
Jane's ideas of men were bounded largely by the weakness of her father
and the crudeness of men like Henry Bittinger, Atwood Jones and others
of their kind. She didn't consider Tommy at all. He was a nice boy and a
faithful friend. His mother, too, was a faithful friend. She classed
them together.
Her plan, told with much coming and going of lovely color, was this: She
had read that the way to make money was to find the thing that a
community lacked and supply it. Considering it seriously she had decided
that in Tinkersfield there was need of good food.
"There's just one horrid little eating house," she told Tommy, "when the
men come in from out of town."
"Nothing fit to eat either," Tommy agreed; "and they make up on booze."
She nodded. "Tommy," she said, and leaned toward him, "I had thought of
sandwiches--home-made bread and slices of ham--wrapped in waxed paper;
and of taking them down and selling them in front of the post-office on
Saturday nights."
Tommy's eyes bulged. "You take them down?"
"Why not? Any work is honorable, Tommy.
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