"Oh, I can't go home!" cried Susan, when Grandfather opened the door and, stooping low to save his head, came into the shop.

"Five minutes more," said Grandfather, as he sat down for a little talk with his old friend Madame Bonnet.

"Oh, Phil, only five minutes more." And in that five minutes Susan flew around like a distracted hen, making up her mind what her purchase should be.

Phil had been absorbed for some time in a pile of paper books with gay red-and-white pictured covers, and he now came forward with his selection. "The Story of Naughty Adolphus," read Grandfather, and gazed with interest upon the picture of Adolphus, to whom "naughty" seemed a mild word to apply. For not only was Adolphus dancing up and down in a fit of temper, and all but striking his meek and shrinking little nurse who stood terror stricken close by; but it was very evident that Adolphus refused to have his hair brushed, his face washed, or finger nails trimmed. All this the picture showed quite plainly, and innocent Phil gazed at it with a virtuous air, for, in his worst moments, he felt sure he had never even approached "Naughty Adolphus."

"It looks interesting," announced Grandfather soberly. "I think you've made a good choice. Susan, are you ready?"

"Look," murmured Susan, faint with admiration. "Look what I've found."

It was a white china egg, and, lifting off the top, there lay a little dolly, as snug as could be.

"It's beautiful," said Susan. And bold with grat.i.tude, she stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss upon Madame Bonnet's wrinkled cheek.

"Well!" said Madame Bonnet, taken aback for the moment, but liking it nevertheless. "If I had a good knee I'd step down cellar for a bottle of my raspberry vinegar to treat you all. How are your knees, Mr. Whiting?"

"Young as a boy's," returned Grandfather, rubbing them as he spoke. "But here's Parson Drew. Suppose we let him step down. He doesn't know that he has any knees."

So Parson Drew, as fond as Susan of raspberry vinegar, obligingly "stepped down cellar," and brought up a tall rosy bottle the contents of which, under Madame Bonnet's careful eye, he poured into thin little gla.s.ses with a gold band about the top.

"Well," said Grandfather, after he had actually turned the bottle upside down to prove to Susan and Phil that there was not a single drop left in it, "I'm afraid the time has come for us to go."

And after many good-byes and messages for Grandmother, the party moved toward the door.

Parson Drew led the way, and, as he opened the door, something from outside, with a clatter and clash, darted into the shop, whirled down the aisle, and subsided with a jangle into a dark corner at the back of the store.

Madame Bonnet, completely forgetting her bad knee, mounted her chair in a twinkling and stood holding her skirts about her feet, calling-

"Help! Help! Help!"

Susan, clutching tight to her eggsh.e.l.l baby, tried to climb up into Grandfather's arms, while Phil, making himself as small as possible, hid under a convenient table.

Grandfather was peering into the dark corner where the clattering object, now silent and motionless, could be faintly seen.

Suddenly Grandfather put back his head and laughed.

"It's a cat," said he; "a poor forlorn little gray cat. And we were all afraid of a cat."

He gave a second look, and then he spoke in a different tone.

"Tut, tut, tut," said Grandfather, as if he were angry.

He gently moved toward the trembling p.u.s.s.y, but before Madame Bonnet could step down from her chair or Phil come out from under the table, in from the street walked Mr. Drew, whom no one had missed until now. He held by the coat-collar a freckled, red-headed boy, and he was pushing him along in no very gentle way.

"This is the boy who did the deed," said Mr. Drew, and he sounded angry in the same way Grandfather did. "I thought I would catch him enjoying his fun if I stepped outside, and, sure enough, there he was, doubled up with laughter and slapping himself on the knee at the joke. A fine joke," added Mr. Drew, giving the boy a little shake, "a fine joke-tormenting a poor cat."

"The other boys were in it, too," whined the culprit, squirming, "only they ran away."

"That doesn't excuse you," answered Mr. Drew sternly. "I have a notion to tie the tin can on you. 'It's only for a joke,' you know. That is what you told me."

"No, no," whimpered the boy, jerking and twisting about. "Let me go.

I'll give you five cents if you do. I'll give you ten cents if you let me go." And he pulled from his pocket a handful of coins and held them out on his grimy palm.

"Is it yours?" asked Mr. Drew. "Is it your money?"

The boy nodded.

"Good!" said Mr. Drew. "Then I'll take it." And he coolly slipped the coins into his pocket.

"Now," said he to the boy, tightening his grip on his collar, "you come with me, and we will spend this money on a treat for poor p.u.s.s.y. And you shall watch her enjoy it, too."

When Mr. Drew returned with his unwilling companion, he found Madame Bonnet composedly knitting in her chair, the rest of the group eyeing p.u.s.s.y, still motionless in her corner.

"Now, Tim," said Parson Drew cheerfully, to his sulky, red-haired friend, "you shall have the pleasure of giving p.u.s.s.y the milk and the cat-meat which you bought for her with your money."

Tim silently spread the feast and retreated a few steps.

"Come, puss, puss," encouraged Madame Bonnet in her comfortable voice, "drink your milk."

And p.u.s.s.y timidly put out her pink tongue and drank the milk thirstily.

"You needn't be afraid to leave her to me," observed Madame Bonnet to Grandfather, who was looking at his watch. "I like a cat, when I know it's a cat and not a whirlwind. I'll take off the can when she is more used to me, and I'll keep her here a bit till I find her a home."

Outside the shop, the party halted once more.

"Don't play any more tricks like this, will you, Tim?" asked Mr. Drew.

"And shake hands."

Tim nodded and thrust out his hard little hand. He grinned cheerfully up at Mr. Drew, and was off down the street, whistling shrilly between his fingers as he ran.

"When I get home," confided Susan in Grandfather's ear, as she sat on his lap on the homeward ride, "I'm going to tell s...o...b..ll all about it, and about that bad boy, and then I guess she will be glad that she has lost her tail. Don't you?"

CHAPTER IV-THE SQUASH BABY

Susan was very unhappy. She stood by her bedroom window, kicking the wall, and at every kick she said, "mean, mean, mean."

It was all about a little berry pie. Grandmother had made for Susan's dinner a saucer pie. It was juicy and brown and had fancy little crimps all about the edge. It looked almost too good to eat.

But instead of being pleased and thanking Grandmother, Susan had scowled up her face at sight of it, and had muttered,

"I don't like the little pie. I want a piece of the big one."

Now, there is no telling why Susan acted in that way. I don't believe she could have explained it herself. The words seemed to pop out of her mouth, her face seemed to snarl itself up, and, for no reason at all she suddenly felt very angry at the poor, pretty little saucer pie.