CHAPTER VIII
"Say, mother," Francie called in through the kitchen screen-door, "Miss Claire, she wants you to come on out. She says she wants to show you a very ol'."
"A very ol' what?" inquired Martha, turning from her stack of washed breakfast dishes, to wipe her hands on the roller-towel.
"I d'know. Only it's up a tree, an' she wants to show you it."
Martha went out at once.
Mrs. Ronald was standing, not far away, gazing intently up into the branches of a splendid spruce.
"Sh!" she cautioned, as Mrs. Slawson drew near.
"What is it?" asked Martha.
"Look!"
Martha's eyes, taking the direction indicated by Miss Claire's pointing finger, saw nothing.