"There's no 'but' about it," interrupted his good wife; "sin is sin."
Betty's brown eyes gazed with open admiration at Mrs. Catt.
Mentally she said, "by heck," again. "She's some game fighter to tackle Ephraim, but I hope she gets beaten; for Ephraim's all right," she concluded with sudden pride.
Soon they reached the Emmit home, an old-fashioned, white framed house, surrounded with hollyhocks and low shrubbery.
"Home at last!" exclaimed the large, gaunt master of the house.
"How perfectly lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Catt with enthusiasm. "I've always dreamed that it would be so romantic to live in a place like this!"
"Some romance," returned Ford Emmit, laughing heartily, as he deposited the bags on the porch. "We have no time for dreams here; have we, wife? Nine children, and the farm and livestock to it, keep us pretty busy. That's life here!"
At this the door opened and out ran four real children, two boys and two girls, rosy and bright as the dawn.
The two boys were both bright redheads, like their mother; the girls were fair and blue-eyed, with the exquisite coloring of the Norwegian.
"O, Betty," they all cried at once; "we found your pussy dead in the yard. Someone has drowned her."