Three years rather! The face of the heavens was darkened and we wandered in gloom. We made an effort of cheerfulness and started for the pond with a view to catching Lucky-bugs. But we abandoned this almost immediately, and decided to hunt up Jimmy Toppan, who lived next door. Then we remembered that Jimmy had gone to his grandmother's farm in the country for the whole day. By this time the pall that overhung us had become deeper and more insufferable.
We turned the corner of the street and gazed drearily at Dr. Macey's barn and the men at work on its roof. The old shingles were coming down with a clatter, and the odor of the new ones filled the air.
Perhaps there was hope in shingles!
We remembered that it takes but few strokes of a jack-knife, a little cutting and boring, to convert a shingle into a boat. It only needs pointing at the bows and rounding at the stern, the insertion of a mast and the fitting of a paper sail—half an old envelope will do. The boats thus fashioned would sail half across the pond—until stuck in the lily-pads.
We chose two shingles and began to whittle. But there was no salt in it. Our minds wandered, and after a few moments Ed dropped his shingle, closed his knife, and put it in his pocket.
"I'm goin' into the barn an' look for mice," he announced.
About the chutes which let grain into the stalls, mice were known to linger. Once I had caught one in my hands, a feat which I instantly regretted, for the mouse bit my finger and made his escape in short order. Since that time the pursuit of the common drab mouse had been considered a pastime not without the charm of danger and the risk of bloodshed. But now the mention of mice only brought my thoughts back—as if they needed bringing!—to the subject that possessed us both.
"Do you think you drove that old cat away?" I asked abruptly.
Ed understood immediately; I did not need to specify the cat.
"I dunno," he said; "she may be foolin' round now. P'r'aps we ought to go and see."