The next time Grannie Nankivell took biscuits and a junket into her spence she shut the window and also the door; but when she got up the following morning and went to see if they were safe, lo and behold! the junket-bowl was again empty and the biscuits were gone.
‘’Tis a two-legged cat who has eaten up my beautiful biscuits and junket,’ she said to her husband; and she turned and looked at little Genefer.
‘I am not the two-legged cat who ate up all the nice things you made for Granfer,’ cried the child, meeting the old woman’s glance with her honest brown eyes.
‘I never said you did,’ said Grannie Nankivell; ‘but ’tis queer the junket-bowl is empty and every biscuit gone from the dish.’
‘I expect it was a dog which got into the spence and licked up the junket and ate the biscuits,’ put in the old turf-cutter. ‘I would lock and bar the spence-door, if I were you, the next time I put such nice things in there.’
‘I will,’ she said.
The next time Grannie Nankivell made biscuits and a junket she barred the window of the spence and locked the door, and the next morning, before Genefer dressed, she went to see if her junket and biscuits were all right; but the little round biscuits, which she had so carefully made and sugared, were every one gone, and the junket-bowl was quite empty, and as dry as a bone.
‘’Tis our little grandcheeld who has eaten it all!’ cried Grannie Nankivell in great anger to the old turf-cutter. ‘No cat or dog could get into a spence with door locked and window barred.’
‘I don’t believe it was Genefer,’ said the old man stoutly.
‘If it was not Genefer, who was it, pray? Biscuits and junkets don’t eat up themselves, any more than dogs and cats can get through keyholes and barred windows.’