Amanda waited again; she blew out her lamp, for the early dawnlight strengthened. She listened intently for wheels, and looked anxiously at the clock. “It would be dreadful if we got left, after all,” she said.
Suddenly the covered wagon came in sight; the white horse trotted at a good pace. Adoniram held the reins and his wife sat beside him. Mrs. Green peered out from the back seat. “Mandy! Mandy!” Mrs. Babcock called, before they reached the gate. But Amanda was already on the front door-step, fitting the key in the lock.
“I'm all ready,” she answered, “jest as soon as I can get the door locked.”
“We ain't got any too much time,” cried Mrs. Babcock.
Amanda went down the path with her basket and black valise and parasol. Adoniram got out and helped her into the wagon. She had to climb over the front seat. As they drove off she leaned out and gazed back at the house. Her tortoise-shell cat was coming around the corner. “I do hope the cat will get along all right,” she said agitatedly. “I've fed her this mornin', an' I've left her enough milk till I get back—a saucerful for each day—an' Abby said she'd give her all the scraps off the table, you know, Mis' Green.”
Mrs. Babcock turned around. “Now, Amanda Pratt,” said she, “I'd like to know how in creation you've left a saucerful of milk for that cat for every day till you get back.”
“I set ten saucers full of milk down cellar,” replied Amanda, still staring back anxiously at the cat—“one for each day. I got extra milk last night on purpose. She likes it jest as well if it's sour, if the saucer's clean.”
Amanda looked up with serious wonder at Mrs. Babcock, who was laughing shrilly. Mrs. Green, too, was smiling, and Adoniram chuckled.
“For the land sakes, Amanda Pratt!” gasped Mrs. Babcock, “you don't s'pose that cat is goin' to stint herself to a saucer a day? Why, she'll eat half of it all up before night.”
Amanda stood up in the carriage. “I've got to go back, that's all,” said she. “I ain't goin' to have that cat starve.”