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of the others were there yet, and she decided to wait outside the front entrance. She brushed the snow off a small bench in the sunshine and sat down. Soon engrossed in scribbling down her impressions of the lodge area into her notebook, she was startled when Jim sat down next to her.
    “Good morning,” he said. “And what a morning —just smell that air!” He took an extremely deep breath and started to slowly let it out.
    Sounds of crashing glass and a small child’s shrill scream cut short his exhale. Jim leaped up and went inside, Trixie close at his heels. He came to a halt just inside the door, and Trixie, unable to stop, bumped right into him. It had been so bright outside that at first she couldn’t see a thing except spots. When her eyes adjusted, she was horrified to see a small, barefoot girl about five years old, standing amid the debris of a broken peanut butter jar.
    “Don’t move,” Jim ordered, slowly approaching the girl. The little girl, taken by surprise, stood perfectly still and quit crying.
    “I broke my peanut butter,” she sniffed. “That’s my most favorite thing of all.”
    Jim gingerly stepped into the mess, picked up the girl, and carried her to a table. Trixie watched him examine the girl’s feet for cuts and thought, Jim is so good and tender with small children. In a few minutes, Jim had the curly-haired girl laughing.
    “You won’t tell my mama, will you? I’m supposed to be in bed,” she pleaded, pointing to her pajamas.
    Just then a lovely woman with thick black braids and wearing a floor-length skirt came rushing into the room. Behind her was Miss Trask.
    “Rosie, I told you to stay in bed. What are you doing in here?” the woman scolded, gathering the girl into her arms.
    Rosie burst into tears again and wailed, “I broke the peanut butter. I got hungry and I broke the peanut butter.”
    “Oh, Rosie, how many times have I told you not to take things that don’t belong to you? You know you’re not supposed to get into the pantry.”
    This additional scolding only brought more tears.
    “You’re very lucky, honey, because I just happen to have another jar of peanut butter in the pantry,” the woman said soothingly. “Now, let’s see if you’re okay.”
    “That man said I was okay. He saved me,” Rosie sniffed solemnly. She pointed to Jim, causing Jim’s face to turn the same shade of red as his hair.
    The woman stepped forward, extending her hand to Jim. “I’m Katie O’Brien,” she said warmly. “I’m grateful to you for tending to my very disobedient daughter,” she added, giving Rosie a reproachful look.
    “As my friend Mart would say, helping out damsels in distress is my specialty,” Jim managed to respond. He patted Rosie’s tangled dark curls and introduced himself and Trixie.
    “Miss Trask and my husband, Pat, have been telling me about you. I m glad to be able to match names with faces. ’ Katie set Rosie down on the floor and gave her a gentle pat. “Now, Rosie, off to the apartment with you. Daddy’s still there. He’ll help you get dressed.’ She turned to Trixie, Jim, and Miss Trask. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up and fix your breakfast. Then we can talk.” She sighed, looking around at the peanut butter rubble.
    “I’ll clean it up,” Jim offered. Before Katie could object, Jim heard the rest of the Bob-Whites coming in. “Miss Trask, would you introduce everyone while I go get a mop and some paper towels?”
    By the time Jim joined the others in the dining area, the Bob-Whites and Katie were talking as if they were old friends.
    “My blood sugar is at a low ebb, and I crave solid sustenance. Might I suggest we procure the house cuisine?” Mart requested politely.
    Katie gave him a puzzled stare.
    “Mart’s got this disease called dictionary-itis,” Trixie tried to explain. “I think he means he’s hungry.”
    Katie smiled approvingly. “I love a boy with an appetite. Is there anything special you’d