CHAPTER 6If Fredericka had not been in so compelling a hurry to leave the town for the woods and had turned right instead of left when she crawled through Margie’s foxhole she would have run straight into her friend, Peter Mohun, and James Brewster. They were standing, on that hot Sunday afternoon, at the corner of Spruce Street and the alley, and they were in earnest conversation.
“Are you really going to build there, Brewster?” Peter asked. He was a little resentful of the fields he was now indicating with a sweep of his right hand. He had been looking for James all morning only to discover him pacing over the great tract of land fronting on this miserable alley. In the search, Peter had missed his lunch and he was now tired, hot and hungry. Moreover, James was still truculent.
“I can’
