Mrs. King shook her pan vigorously in the effort to find a stray pod that had slipped through her fingers.
"I've heard that the place is full of snakes," she answered. "Man or beast isn't safe from them. Rattlesnakes and all kinds—sometimes, I've heard folks say, if the nights are the least bit chilly, the rattlers crawl under the blankets to get warm. Imagine waking up in the morning and finding a snake in bed with you!"
"He wouldn't hurt you, if you didn't provoke him," Sarah asserted. "Snakes are polite and they'll let you alone if you let them do as they please. I think snakes are the most interesting things to see!"
"I don't!" said Mrs. King. "I'd run a mile before I'd face one. There is nothing, to my mind, more disgusting than a wriggling snake."
Sarah looked grieved.
"That's the same way my Aunt Trudy talks," she observed. "She is scared to death of little, tiny snakes. Even water snakes. And a water snake never hurts anyone."
"Don't show me one," said Mrs. King hurriedly. "I don't care what kind of a snake it is, they're all alike as long as they can move. I never want to see one on the place."
Sarah wisely concluded that another topic would be welcome and unconsciously the huge gray cat that climbed over the porch railing and leaped heavily to the floor, provided it.
"What a darling cat!" cried Sarah, abandoning her chair in such haste that it narrowly missed falling backward. "Is it yours, Mrs. King?"
"Yes, he's mine," said the landlady. "He used to be a right handsome cat but lately he's getting too fat. The girls in the kitchen feed him all the time. I don't believe he has caught a mouse or a rat for six weeks."