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MacCall, she had come to help Ruth and her sisters soon after their establishment in the old Corner House, and by this time had grown to be indispensable. This was the household, saving Sandyface, the cat, and her four kittens Spotty, Almira, Popocatepetl and Bungle. And now there was the goat, Mr. Billy Bumps. Ruth was an intellectual looking girl so people said.
Jock considered cats his rightful prey, and Sammy was not the master to teach him better. The dog sprang for the gate, and it swung open. Sandyface saw her enemy while he was in midair. She flew across the backyard to the big pear-tree. Jock was right behind her, his tongue lolling out and the joy of the chase strongly exhibited in his speaking countenance.
The latter, quite unconscious of impending peril, continued to try to catch Sandyface, who looked down upon his foolish gyrations from a branch near the top of the tree. Perhaps she divined what was about to happen to the naughty Jock, for she did not even meow! Tess had presence of mind enough to holloa "Whoa!" and she kept right on saying it.
"Don't tease him, Sammy," begged Dot. "Aw, I'm not," declared Sammy. "He doesn't like that you know he doesn't," admonished Tess. "He ought to have gotten used to it by this time," Sammy declared. "Jinks! what's that?" Unnoticed by the children, Sandyface, the old mother cat, had gravely walked down the path to the street gate.
The third floor rooms were scarcely ever entered, save by Sandyface and her kittens in search of mice. The stranger boy who had come to the old Corner House so opportunely, proved himself of inestimable value in the work in hand. Uncle Rufus was saved many a groan by that lively youth, and Mrs. MacCall and the girls pronounced him a valuable assistant.
You know you said yourself there were hundreds before Sandyface and her children came." "Glo-ree! I done s'peck dey got down to purty few numbers," agreed Uncle Rufus. "Hi! wot dat cat do now?" "Scat!" cried Mrs. MacCall. She had left the table for a moment, and Popocatepetl was upon it. "Petal!" shrieked Ruth, and darted for the pantry to seize her pet.
"I know Sandyface couldn't go up that tree any quicker not even with Sam Pinkney's bulldog after her." He was a slim boy and the limbs scarcely bent under his weight not even when he was in the top of the tree. He seemed to know just how to balance himself, while standing there, and fearlessly used both hands to pick the remaining fruit.
In his usual foolish fashion, the bulldog tried to climb the tree after the cat. Jock could never seem to learn that he was not fitted by nature for such exploits, and wherever the game led, he tried to follow. His interest being so completely centered in Sandyface and his attempt to get her, peril in the rear never crossed Jock's doggish mind.
Anyway, you can go away, Sandyface, and stop rubbing them off on me." "What's become of that kitten of yours Bungle, did you call it?" asked the groceryman. "Why, don't you know?" asked Dot, in evident surprise. "I haven't heard a word," confessed Mr. Stetson. "Did something happen to it?" "Yes, sir." "Was it poisoned?" "Oh, no!" "Drowned?" "No, sir." "Did somebody steal it?" queried Mr. Stetson.
She was a special favorite of his, and he always stopped to talk with her. "Ruthie says we got to move all by ourselves Tess and me," said Dot, with a sigh. "I'm just as much obliged to you, but I guess you can't help." She had sat down on the porch steps and Sandyface came, purring, to rub against her. "You can go right away, Sandy!" said Dot, sternly. "I don't like you much.
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