“Oh! it’s a pussy-cat,” cried Dot delightedly. “Then somebody does live here!”
It was a beautiful blue Maltese cat, and although she was a little wild at first, she must have been used to children when the farmer lived here, for Dot and Tess soon coaxed her to come to be petted.
“Anyway,” Agnes said, “I’m not going to worry about rats with a fine puss like her around. She can handle the rats.”
“Sure. She eats ’em alive,” called Neale from beneath the car.
Agnes went inside and struggled with the bar of the big barn door. Sammy finally went to her assistance and they swung the doors open so that the sunlight might flood the interior. Nothing seemed to be changed since Neale had made his search more than two weeks before.
Mrs. Heard and Ruth were wandering about the premises, looking into the other outbuildings. The stable was empty, of course. There was no stock on the place. But on the other side of the ruins of the burned dwelling they made quite an important discovery.
There was a fenced-in garden patch. It was weed-grown for the most part; but there were berry bushes loaded with dew-berries and raspberries, both black and red; besides ripening gooseberries and currants. Here was a feast for the children, and Ruth was about to call them when Mrs. Heard said:
“Wait. If we should have to remain to-night, this fruit will help out for supper and breakfast. We have plenty of sugar and canned evaporated milk.”
“Goodness me, Mrs. Heard! Don’t talk so perfectly recklessly!” Ruth exclaimed. “It can’t be that we shall have to remain here. Why, we can’t!”
“What are you going to do—walk to the next town?” asked Agnes, who came to them in time to overhear this statement of her sister’s.