"Cheese, Massa Bobbsey!" exclaimed the colored cook. "Yo' knows yo' cain't eat cheese. Ebery time yo' does, yo' gits de insispepsia suffin terrible—specially toasted cheese."
"I don't intend to eat it!" answered the twins' father, with a laugh. "I'm going to bait a trap with cheese to catch the mice. I don't care whether they get the indigestion or not."
"Oh! Dat's diffunt," said Dinah. "I'll toast yo' some."
The trap was set, but for two or three days, though it was often looked at, no mice were caught. Meanwhile, several times, Dinah said she missed food from her kitchen. It was only little things, though, and the Bobbseys paid small attention to her, for Dinah was often forgetful, and might have been mistaken.
"I really think we have some rats aboard," said Mr. Bobbsey. "There are some on nearly every boat. I have heard noises in the night that could be made only by rats."
"And Snap still acts queerly, whenever he passes that locker," said
Mrs. Bobbsey. "I'm not so sure it is a rat that made that noise,
Richard."
"No?" her husband asked. "What was it, then?"
But Mrs. Bobbsey either could not, or would not, say.
"I say, Harry," said Bert to his country cousin one day, when the Bluebird had come to anchor some distance down the lake, "let's try to get to the bottom of this mystery."
"What mystery?"