Miss Dimple Rallies to the Cause by Mignon F. Ballard Read Free Book Online

and his face turned watermelon red. Charlie could see he wanted to crawl under his seat and disappear, but at least he had more color in his face than he had when she saw him last.
    Buddy shared some of the posters he’d received from the government that would be displayed in public places around town. One showed three small children standing in the shadow of a large swastika. The caption at the bottom warned: Don’t Let That Shadow Touch Them. BUY WAR BONDS. Another, picturing a wounded soldier, read: Doing all you can, brother? A third featured a look-alike mother and her young daughter pasting defense stamps in a booklet and advised: Even a little can help a lot—NOW .
    After giving out the posters to those who volunteered to help distribute them, Buddy told them about the contest he’d suggested for the children, depositing a large stack of them on the stage. “We’ve had a huge response, as you can see,” he added, “and a prize will be awarded on rally night. It would be nice, I think, if some of the members of the rally committee would help select a winner.”
    “I don’t think it would be fair for me to be a part of that since I teach some of these children,” Charlie said, and Annie agreed on the same grounds, but Millie McGregor volunteered to help, as did Emmaline and Delia.
    “Charlie, I’d like you to write an article for the Eagle about the womanless wedding and the other entertainment we’re planning,” Emmaline directed. “Since your mother is society editor, she should be able to finagle a featured spot.
    “Rehearsals begin at seven thirty Wednesday,” she reminded them, “and I’ll expect all of you to be here, especially you, Bessie, as you’ll need to get measurements for those who’ll need costumes.”
    Charlie, who said she’d be glad to write the article, wondered if Emmaline had found a wedding dress for the bride. Annie must’ve been thinking the same thing because she looked for all the world like she was trying not to laugh.
    “I heard you were there, Charlie, when they found that poor soul buried out in the country,” Millie said as they walked outside together. “It must’ve been awful!”
    Charlie admitted it was something she’d just as soon forget.
    “And you were, too, weren’t you, Buddy?” the woman persisted. “Somebody said the thing had hair, and it still had scraps of cloth sticking to it. Could they tell if it was a woman or a man?”
    “I really don’t know.” Buddy walked a little faster.
    “Well, it sure didn’t get in that grave by itself,” she continued. “Do you think they’ll ever find out who did it?”
    But Buddy Oglesby had hurried away into the night.
    *   *   *
    “I’ve brought you some of my Victory Muffins,” Miss Dimple said to her friend Virginia during an afternoon lull at the library. “I know you don’t take time to eat the way you should, and”—she lowered her voice—“they provide a lot of the necessary fiber we all need at our age to aid in digestion.”
    Virginia fluffed a feather duster over the piano. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly regular, thank you.”
    Dimple smiled. “Because you eat my muffins. Now, promise you’ll have one at least every other morning.”
    Virginia crossed her fingers and promised. She loved her friend, but was of the opinion that if you built a wall with Dimple’s Victory Muffins, which were intended to make one regular and healthy, as well as patriotic, you could hold off the enemy indefinitely.
    “Emmaline held her first rally meeting at the high school last night,” she said, “and I declare, Dimple, that woman could give Mussolini himself a run for his money. She has all the makings of a dictator.”
    “It doesn’t look as though we’ll have to worry about him anymore,” Dimple said. The Fascist Grand Council had turned against their defeated leader only the summer before and imprisoned him on the island of Ponza.
    “Well, we still have to worry about