“Not the baby, but my glasses!” answered the old lady. “Oh, dear! I had them just before the runaway cattle appeared, and I must have taken them off and laid them some place. Now I can’t find them! And I’ve gotten so used to them I don’t know what to do without them! Oh, where are my glasses?” and she seemed much distressed over the loss.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE QUEER CLOUD
“We’ll help you look for your glasses, Mrs. Martin,” offered Nan, though she wished very much to finish her story. “Won’t we, Bert?”
“Sure, we will,” he answered, boy-fashion. And, though he very much wanted to go fishing, he gave up his pleasure for the time being to help the old lady.
Mrs. Martin was really quite distressed about losing her glasses, as most people are whose eyes are so poor that they cannot see well nor read without the help of spectacles.
“Where did you have them last?” asked Nan, as she had often heard her mother ask when one of the children lost a toy.
“I had them on my head, over my nose, and in front of my eyes,” Mrs. Martin answered. “Then, all of a sudden, I heard Mrs. Watson cry out about the cattle coming into the garden, and I grabbed off my glasses to get the broom. I was afraid I’d break them chasing after the cows.”
By this time Mrs. Watson, who had been putting the baby to sleep, came out on the side porch.
“Yes, I saw your glasses on you just before the cattle began running wild,” said Jenny’s mother. “Then so much happened all at once that I don’t know what you did with them.”