“Gypsies,” answered Grandfather tersely. “She wasn’t their own child, you know. And they were always jealous of the way we treated her. I suppose they argued that, if we were so fond of her, we would be glad of the chance to take care of her. I’ve telephoned, so that people will be on the lookout for them, but the chances are we shall never hear of them again.”
“I wouldn’t want Gentilla to go back to them after the way they have treated her,” said Grandmother indignantly.
“No, except that she is one of them, after all,” answered Mr. Whiting. “Well, we will keep the little girl for a time. We needn’t be in any great hurry to decide what to do. At any rate, Susan will enjoy a visit from her.”
And that Susan proceeded to do at once. She and Phil and Gentilla spent a long and happy day together.
But that night, with Gentilla tucked snugly in the big spare-room bed across the hall, Susan was so excited she couldn’t sleep. She twisted and turned and tossed, and at last pattered downstairs for a drink of water.
In the kitchen, to her surprise, she found Grandfather feeding Snuff, who had been missing all day. Snuff ate his good supper as if he were starving. He was covered with mud, an old rope was tied round his neck, and he was so stiff and lame he could scarcely hobble.
Susan waited until Grandfather had seen Snuff safely at rest upon a comfortable bed of straw in the barn. Then upstairs they went together, and Grandfather lay down on the outside of Susan’s bed beside her and took her hand in his.
“Where do you think Snuff was all day, Grandfather?” began Susan. “I wish he could talk and tell us.”
“So do I,” said Grandfather heartily, “Did I ever tell you about a dog I had when I was a little boy—”
“Yes, you did,” interrupted Susan. “Thank you, Grandfather, but I know all about him. His name was Nick and he was black all over with not a white spot anywhere. Grandfather, do you think Mr. James Lee took the stove from the schoolhouse?”