By the dim lantern light she lifted the fallen tank and replaced
it on its skids. Then she wiped up the floor as best she could with
the makeshift mop which had been intended to serve a better
purpose. She wiped off her soggy shoes and tried to clean that
clinging oiliness from her hands. It seemed to her as if the
whole world were nothing but kerosene.
She did not know what to do with the drenched rags, so she took them
with her when she started again for the dark road, this time with her
two cheery companions, the lantern and Wiggle. She soon found the
dripping rags a burden and cast them from her as she passed the well.
Wiggle turned back and inspected the smelly, soggy mass, found that he
did not like it, took a hasty drink from the puddle under the well
spout, and rejoined his companion.
It must have been close to ten o'clock when Mr. Ira Jensen, enjoying
a last smoke on his porch before retiring, saw the lantern light swinging
up his roadway. The next thing that he was aware of was the pungent odor
of kerosene borne upon the freshening night breeze. And then the little
delegation stood revealed before him, Wiggle, wagging his tail, the
lantern sputtering, and Pepsy's head jerking nervously as if she were
trying to shake out what she had to say.
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