The Grub-and-Stakers Spin a Yarn Read Free

star of the Traveling Thespians and two-time winner of the Grand Free-for-All gold medal in archery but also the bosom friend of Arethusa Monk. Now married to Bert Pusey, a jovial salesman who traveled successfully in fashion eyewear, Clorinda was living a life far better suited to her ebullient personality and loving every minute of it. However, the lure of impending grandmotherhood and the chance of spending some time with her old friend had brought her flying back to Lobelia Falls.
    Never one to tackle a situation by halves, Clorinda had been knitting up a storm ever since Dittany had managed to track her down at an optometrists’ convention in Saskatoon and break the joyful tidings. Starting with booties, she’d worked her way up via bonnets and sacques to carriage robes and buntings. Even as she emoted her rapture at being able to walk down the street and bump into her favorite female in all the world, not counting her daughter and whichever twin turned out to be a girl, she was fishing in her pocketbook for a twist of yarn.
    “Come on, Arethusa. I’ve got to see whether Miss Jane has any more of this pink left. I started a bed jacket for Dittany and ran out halfway up the left front.”
    “At last count, Dittany had been the increasingly less grateful recipient of seven knitted bed jackets: two pink, one blue, one white with pink and blue trimming, one yellow, one lilac, and one variegated,” Arethusa pointed out. “Zilla Trott is knitting her a red one with fluffy pompons in case the weather turns cold. And if you’re pondering the advisability of ripping out what you’ve done and starting another bunting, forget it. She’s up to her armpits in tiny garments already. Egad, will this madness never cease?”
    “Probably not,” Clorinda admitted. “You know the old crowd. Once they get the bit between their teeth, there’s no stopping them. But don’t worry, dear, I’ve thought of something else.”
    “Gadzooks, it needed only that!”
    “Don’t be negative, dear, it makes wrinkles. I just got the idea that now everyone’s nicely started and the yarn shop’s so handy, we might as well keep on and knit enough tiny garments for all the underprivileged wee ones in Canada.”
    “What if the wee ones already have enough tiny garments?”
    “Then we knit some for the States, and maybe Europe.”
    “Thence to the Third World, I assume?”
    “Well, dear, it would be good for détente. Do quit standing there darting those quills at me. I’ve got to get cracking. By the way, what are you doing out roaming the roads during your usual work time? Don’t tell me inspiration has flagged.”
    “Perish the thought! I’m roaming the roads because I have an important business appointment.”
    “Really? I must say you do look awfully brisk and competent. I don’t recall ever having seen you in that suit before. Where did you get it?”
    “I can’t remember.”
    “Well, I don’t suppose it matters. Whoever it was, they won’t have one left in my size anyway. They never do. Where is your appointment?”
    Arethusa shook her quills sadly and slowly from side to side. “I can’t remember that either.”

Chapter 2
    “NEVER MIND, DEAR, I expect it will come to you.” Clorinda expected no such thing, but one had to maintain a façade of optimism with Arethusa or be driven to desperation in consequence. “Let’s get that pink yarn before I forget what I came for, too. I can always give the bed jacket to the Russians and call it glasnost .”
    “We can’t go in there,” Arethusa protested. “The Yarnery’s knee-deep in gore and Sergeant MacVicar is detecting.”
    “Darling, do save your tall tales for your vast army of—heavens to Betsy! What are those red spots all over the sidewalk?”
    “Gore, of course. Spies are by nature copious bleeders.”
    “What spies?” demanded Clorinda. “Arethusa, have you any idea what you’re talking about?”
    “Certainly I have. I’m talking about those three