The Mystery of the Scar-faced Beggar - M. V. Carey [22]
“Sorry,” said the girl. “I don’t have time for a daily paper. Thanks anyway.”
Jupe produced a small pad and a stub of pencil from his pocket. “How about the Sunday edition?” he said.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” said the girl.
“Oh.” Jupe looked downcast. “Hardly anyone wants to take a newspaper anymore,” he said.
“Times are tough.” The girl smiled at him. The dog, unwilling to be ignored, came out of the flower bed and sat down on her feet. She rubbed his ears. “Are you working your way through school?” she asked Jupiter. “Or will you win a ten-speed bike if you get a hundred subscriptions?”
“Neither,” said Jupe. “I’m just trying to get a paper route and earn some money.
Do you suppose there’s anybody else here who might like the paper?”
“Nobody else is home right now,” said the girl. “Not on a Thursday. Everyone works.”
“Oh.” Jupe let the corners of his mouth droop, and he sat down gingerly on the edge of one of the chairs that faced the pool. “Delivering papers is easy,” he said sadly. “Selling them is the hard part. Would you … that is, could you … could you …”
“Could I what?” said the girl. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“Oh,
h
, yes.
s
. I’m just
s t
hi
h r
i st
s y.
. Do
o you
o s
u
s pp
p o
p s
o e
s you
o cou
o ld
l
d le
l t m
e ha
h ve a
g
la
l ss
s
s of
o
f wate
t r?”
She
h la
l ughe
h d
e .
. “No
o pr
p ob
o l
b e
l m.
. Just
s si
s t
i rig
i ht
h the
h re
r .
. I’ll
l
l b
e
b
e b
a
b c
a k
c
k i
n
i
n a
a s
e
s c
e o
c n
o d
n .
d ”
Sh
S e
h
e di
d s
i a
s p
a p
p e
p a
e r
a e
r d
e
d in
i t
n o the
op
o e
p n
e
n ap
a a
p r
a t
r m
t e
m n
e t
n ,
t
, an
a d
n
d th
t e
h
e bi
b g
i
g
do
d g
o
g fo
f l
o l
l o
l w
o e
w d
e
d he
h r
e .
r
. Sh
S e
h
e wa
w s
a
s ba
b c
a k
c
k
in
i
n a
a fe
f w
e
w mom
o e
m n
e t
n s
t
s wi
w t
i h
t
h wa
w t
a e
t r
e
r in
i
n
a
a ta
t l
a l
l
l tu
t m
u b
m l
b e
l r
e .
r
. As
A
s sh
s e
h
e ca
c m
a e
m
e ou
o t
u
t
sh
s e
h
e sh
s u
h t
u
t th
t e
h
e do
d o
o r
o ,
r
, cl
c o
l s
o i
s n
i g
n
g th
t e
h
e
dog
o in
i si
s d
i e.
“I
I
sh
s o
h u
o l
u d
l al
a w
l a
w y
a s
y
s
ig
i n
g o
n r
o e
r
e
hi
h m
i ,” sh
s e
h
e sa
s i
a d
i .
d
. “He only gets
ou
o t
u
t of
o
f ha
h n
a d
n
d wh
w e
h n
e
n I
I tr
t y
r
y to
t
o ma
m k
a e
k
e
hi
h m
i be
b ha
h ve.”
Ju
J p
u e
p
e th
t a
h n
a k
n e
k d
e
d th
t e
h
e gi
g r
i l
r
l an
a d
n
d
si
s p
i p
p e
p d
e
d th
t e
h
e wa
w t
a e
t r
e .
r
. Th
T e
h
e gi
g r
i l
r
l sa
s t
a
t
do
d w
o n
w
n in
i
n a
a ch
c a
h i
a r
i
r ne
n a
e r
a
r hi
h m
i
m an
a d
n
d
le
l a
e n
a e
n d
e
d ba
b c
a k
c
k to
t
o ca
c t
a c
t h
c
h th
t e
h
e su
s n
u
n on
o
n
he
h r fa
f ce.
“You
o sh
s o
h u
o ld
l do
o you
o r
r se
s ll
l i
l n
i g at n
ig
i h
g t
h whe
h n
n pe
p o
e p
o l
p e
l are ho
h m
o e,” sh
s e
h
e s
a
s i
a d
i .
d
“Guess
s
s so
s ,
o ” sa
s id
i Jupi
p t
i er.
. He gaze
z d at the
h gi
g r
i l
l as
s if
i
f he
h weren’t
t to
t o
o
o br
b i
r g
i h
g t
h .
t
. “Still,
you’d thi
h n
i k
k a fe
f w
w pe
p op
o l
p e
l wou
o ld
l be
b
e arou
o nd.
. Li
L k
i e you
o .
. You
o ’re home.”
“Not
o of
o t
f en,” sa
s id
i the
h
e gi
g r
i l.
l
“Oh,
h ” sa
s id
i J
upe
p .
. “You
o
u wor
o k,
, too
o ?
o ”
“Sure.
. Bu
B t n
ot
o rig
i ht
h n
o
n w
o .”
“Oh?
h ” Jupe
p
e lo
l o
o k
o ed dis
i t
s r
t ess
s e
s d.
. “Did
i you
o lo
l s
o e
s y
ou
o r job
o ?
b ”
“No.
o
. Not at all
l .
l
. I wor
o k in
i the
h mot
o i
t o
i n
o -picture industry, and that’s
s an
a
n on
o -again,
, off-
again
i so
s r
o t of
o
f thi
h n
i g.
. I do
d
o makeup,
p
, and whe
h n
e a