Arming herself with the broken umbrella that stood in the mended umbrella jar in the front hall, Aunty Jane peered cautiously into the dining-room. The "animal" turned its head to blink with mild, expressionless curiosity at Aunty Jane.
"My soul!" ejaculated that good lady, "what are you, anyway?"
The pair blinked at each other for several moments.
"Are—are you a baby?" demanded Aunty Jane.
No response from Rosa Marie.
"What," asked Aunty Jane, cautiously drawing closer, "is your name?"
Still no response.
"Who tied you to that table?"
Silence on Rosa Marie's part.
"I'm going straight after Mrs. Mapes," declared Aunty Jane, retreating backwards in order to keep a watchful eye on the queer object under the table. "I might have known that those enterprising youngsters would be up to something, if I gave my whole mind to pickles."