When they had done the best they could, they turned to inspect their handiwork. The room looked better, they admitted, with the kittens in the laundry basket and the straw swept out and the molasses fairly well cleaned up, but somehow the pattern of the linoleum was gone.
"Oh, well," Grandpa sighed, "yer Grandma'll say, 'Clarence Beebe, this floor looks like a hurrah's nest.' And then she'll get right down with her brush and pail, and she'll begin purrin' and hummin' like Wait-a-Minute with her kittens. So let's leave it to her and get on with Misty."
Driving the truck through town to the causeway took an hour instead of minutes. The streets were filled with men and machines. Huge bulldozers were pushing sand back into the bay and rubble into piles for burning.
Every time the truck had to stop, Misty was recognized and men shouted questions.
"Where ye taking Misty?"
"To Doctor Finney's!"
"Clear to Pocomoke City?"